TW: This whole thing is based on a suicide afterlife. Heavy mention of suicide.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. The plot is based on the short story Kneller's Happy Campers by Etgar Keret.
The title of the short story is misleading. It doesn't end happily. If you want to stick through this to the end don't read it, it'll spoil this for you.
It was driving him nuts.
The constant drip of the faucet, set high above his current position, told Kevin that maybe he should have fixed the fucking thing before it became impossible. His fingers walked along the tile floor, through the vomit that filled his nostrils, trying to somehow to pull his body over to the bathroom sink, to somehow make the noise stop so he could spend his last few of life in peace. He could feel something hit the back of his hand, his fading vision told him it was the amber pill bottle he had been carrying around with him, reading the label as he waited for the medicine to kick in. No matter how many times he twitched his hand it rolled back to him and the last thought that occurred to him before he closed his eyes was he would probably shit himself, he read somewhere that when people die that's what happened, and he was mortified.
When his eyes finally opened he was at what appeared to be a terminal, the sound of a train in the distance. It wasn't until his eyes started to focus that he noticed something was off about the crowd. In his hand he could feel a piece of paper and when he finally contained his confusion enough to register his surroundings he noticed all it was was 'D2'.
"Letter D number 1" sounded a voice over an intercom, and he clutched his paper tighter in his hand, crumpling it a little. It was then he found out he had been sitting next to someone because they stood up, clutching a similar piece of paper in their hand.
"I guess they mean me." the stranger said, his mouth contorted into a strained almost-smile. The man was taller than Kevin, thinner, and probably around the same age (24). He had dark hair that almost looked blue when the light hit it just right and a thick accent that forced Kevin to focus a little harder to properly hear was the man was saying. Before he could replay, however, the tall stranger had already made his way to the little office at the end of the rows of wooden benches.
"What is this? The fuckin' DMV?" Kevin said aloud, more to himself than anyone else. There weren't many people in the area, but each of them had the same sad, sunken look and he could have sworn one the people walking around, directing people in another row of benches, had the back of their head blown out, like a wound from a gun but before he could do a doubletake at the stranger, however, the voice over the intercom sounded again, this time calling his number.
He entered the office that he had seen the dark-haired male enter to find an older brunette woman with her hair pulled up into a tight, orderly bun typing away on a computer that looked straight out of the 90's, the monitor probably weighing more than desk the woman sat at. Before Kevin could speak the woman held up her hand to her pursed lips to indicate she needed silence and flicked her wrist to then point to the folding metal chair on the other side of the desk. The movement of her hand revealed something Kevin wasn't sure he saw, something that had been happening a lot in the last ten minutes, and Kevin sat down pondering the puckered discolored scar running down the woman's wrists.
"Who were you?" the brunette woman said, her face devoid of any emotion. Her question came without any notice and made Kevin jump at the sound of her raspy voice.
"E-e-excuse me? Who was I?" Kevin stammered, not sure he heard correctly, causing the woman to look up at him from her old computer and shoot him a glare.
"Yes, who were you? Everyone was someone before they killed themselves. What was your name?" her tone was professional but Kevin began to get the feeling she was beginning to get annoyed, something about the way she held her hands over the bulky keyboard cushioned the initial shock of her comment. Something about it made sense, like finding a puzzle piece to a puzzle you had abandoned months ago.
He was slowly getting use to the afterlife.
According to the ratty, yellowed calendar Kevin kept in his room it had been nearly forty-five days since he had arrived on the train, a packet of information in his hand that listed his apartment number, job information, and some general information about a support group (something he had went to twice and gave up). Everything was just about the same in this world, only a little bit worse. The days were always hot and cloudless, the nights starless and cool, the food never quite the right temperature, and everything looked as though you were looking through a pair of dirty glasses. Worst of all, however, was the fact that you couldn't smile.
Kevin worked at a bar called The Dead End, the manager was an asshole but there weren't really stringent rules and nobody cared about how poor the customer service was so Kevin fell rather quickly into the monotony of everyday, waking up around five in the evening to get ready for his shift, missing Nazz, drinking the stale beer as he served the customers (never getting more than a little tipsy which only made him feel more melancholy than he felt sober), and going home only to repeat himself the next day. He contemplated killing himself again, wondering where he would end up if he did, but who would want to go through that shit again? And this continued, day in and day out, once in awhile he thought he had made a connection with a customer, had a deep conversation that could have resulted into some kind of friendship, but that was always proven wrong as the nights continued and the people started sitting further and further away from the bar (or going to a different bar all together).
"Rolf would like a beer." came a voice as Kevin wiped down some of the liquor bottles on the shelf behind his work station, waving a hand over his head to show he had heard the patron.
"I hope this is okay, it tastes the least like piss in this dump." Kevin placed the nondescript bottle on the table in front of the person at the bar, not focusing on who he was serving as he took a couple of the empty bottles from a little further down the counter and mumbling under his breath.
"It is you! Stranger from the train station who Rolf met the first day. How is it you have come to be in this town?" the accent made his words a little hard to understand over the sound of the jukebox in the back, which contained no song anyone with a brain would call 'good', most just generic non-hits from the 80's, but as Kevin looked up from what he was doing the first feeling of recognition he felt since he died dawned on him as his eyes fell on the stranger with the blue-almost-black hair from his first day dead.
First day dead, sounds more like a bad death metal band. Kevin smirked to himself as he took a drink from the sort-of dirty glass he always used when he worked, pulling a stool up near the train station acquaintance.
"I don't know. I was still trying to figure out what the fuck was going on when I got manhandled by some guy with a gunshot wound and I ended up here." he shrugged, his expression souring with another sip of the stale lukewarm beer. Rolf, which Kevin assumed was the man's name based on the fact he seemed to refer to himself in the third person, took a swig from his own beer and acted refreshed, causing Kevin to look on him in disbelief.
"In the Old Country serving warm beer was a practice used to keep the sheep-man from destroying business." Rolf seemed sincere, which confused Kevin even more finished his drink in one fell swoop.
"I'll take your word for that dude." He placed his glass into a nearby box, which would be sent to the kitchen to be cleaned when it came time to close up the bar. Rolf nodded enthusiastically, relaying a story about a pub in his hometown that fell victim to the sheep-man, something Kevin listened to intently, enjoying the distraction.
Rolf came back every night that week, and every night that week he waited for Kevin to close up the bar so they could drive back to his apartment and drink more while he told Kevin about stories from the Old Country. It was the closest thing to enjoyment Kevin had, sitting on Rolf's sofa (which smelled like dust and made you sneeze at least twice an hour) watching his pig Wilfred run around and listening to some of the most extraordinary stories he had ever heard.
"He killed himself too, you know? He missed Rolf." Wilfred was laying in Rolf's lap, sleeping peacefully as his owner took another sip from the bottle of warm vodka as Kevin looked at him in disbelief. "I've had him since he was born, we've been inseparable since then. One time Rolf brought him to work and he -"
"I know, I know. I've heard this story, Rolf. Twice." Kevin said, sinking down into the couch, the dust the movement stirred up making him sneeze.
"Wilfred probably missed Rolf and stopped eating, when he showed up at my doorstep I swear it was half the weight he was when he died." Rolf continues, gazing lovingly at the pig in his lap. It was clear that Rolf loved the pig, and weird that such an emotion could exist considering where they were. Kevin missed Nazz.
It was right before Kevin killed himself that Nazz left him, moving out without uttering a word and when Kevin returned home from work that evening it was the last thing he had expected. He had always been at least a little depressed, even since he moved to Peach Creek and met the young blonde, but maybe she was expecting to save his tortured soul. She didn't and got fed up. Kevin tried, he really did, he tried harder than ever towards the end of their relationship, but he could feel her slipping away. He lost his job a week later, not able to get out of been after she left. Kevin shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts of Nazz. He was dead now, she was not, and this wasn't some shitty romance movie with love that transcends all boundaries. It was real life, sort of.
"Whatever dude, I'll be right back." He said, lifting his body off the couch. He had been at Rolf's apartment since five that morning and it was now nearing nine, the only grocery store in the town was now open and Rolf didn't have anything Kevin considered edible in his fridge. "If you need anything from the store let me know now." Rolf shook his head no and Kevin made he way out the door.
"Kevin? Jesus fucking christ, it's Kevin." At first Kevin didn't see the origin of the voice, but as the stout dark-haired man with blue eyes rounded the aisle, a smug look on his face and a red shopping basket hung over his arm. Kevin rolled his eyes, a wave of irritation rolling over him.
"Eddy, what are you doing here? You were alive last I knew." Kevin said, forcing conversation as the stubby man moved closer to him, fighting the urge to take a long step back.
"Always the jokester, but really. How've you been?" Eddy patted Kevin roughly on the back, causing Kevin to almost drop what he was holding and shoot a glare at Eddy. "I know, I know. How can anyone be in this shithole. If I knew this was what I was signing up for I would have totally not followed Nazz to the grave. Have you seen her, by the way? Your death really shook up the cul-de-sac, really me really think if life was worth living, y'know?"
Kevin didn't hear anything at all after Nazz's name, his heart almost dropping into his stomach as he tried to wrap his brain around the word his annoying ex-neighbor had spoken. Something finally clicked in his brain and he dropped what he was holding and broke out in a run almost knocking Eddy over.
"Hey Kevin! After you died I washed your car for you, think you could pay me for that sometime?" Eddy yelled after him, but Kevin had already left the store and was making his way back to Rolf's apartment.
"You go to the market and come back with these elaborate plans all because you want to find this Nazz-girl? You expect Rolf to uproot Wilfred and go on this hanky-panky road trip?" He wasn't angry, just confused as Kevin stood there shuffling from foot to foot, trying to hurry this spiel along. He didn't want to be there anymore, he wanted to be on the road, and if he had wheels he wouldn't have bothered Rolf but the only car he had access to was sitting in the driveway outside.
"Listen dude, I just found out the girl I love is somewhere in this wretched place and this could be my only chance at some sort of happiness or normalcy." Rolf's brow furrowed, as if he was concentrating on something really hard as Kevin stood in the middle of his living room, impatient. "Listen dude, let me put this another way; do you have anything better to do?"
"Two rules, Rolf drives and Wilfred gets the gun of shot." If Kevin could have smiled, it would have been dazzling.
"Dude, I cannot believe you were serious about that." Kevin pouted from the cramped back seat. He had tried to sit various ways, but the small back seat kept feeling more and more cramped, even with his legs stretched to the side. Wilfred was had his front legs up on the door, trying to stick his head out the window was they drove but Kevin and Rolf both tried to roll the window down and couldn't get it cracked more than an inch.
"Rolf does not kid when it comes to Wilfred or his comfortable transportation in a vehicle." Kevin stuck his tongue at the driver, his eyes on the landscape as the car sped down the road. There wasn't really anything in sight, just sand and debris, they had been on the road for quite a while now and Kevin had counted at least fifteen toilets, twelve bathtubs, and more mattresses than he could keep track of.
Kevin tried to close his eyes and get a nap as they drove, unable to do so because of the state of the road. Just as the car hit a relatively smooth stretch of road it was ruined by cracked pavement, something that didn't seem to bother the pig. "How is that little shit able to sleep?" Kevin asked irritatedly, his lips twisting into an almost jealous expression as he looked at the sleeping pig, his chin resting where the headrest should have been on the passengers seat.
"He's always been a sleeper with heavy eyes." It was now nearing late evening, the sun had been setting for what seemed like forever and Rolf was had switched on the headlights already, though they weren't really necessary yet. The scenery hadn't changed at all from the time they left their town and Kevin stopped watching out the window, making small talk with Rolf as they went. When the sun finally set Kevin looked up at the sky, a view he didn't often get and a view that shocked him everytime he saw it. The starless sky looked off, incomplete, and caused a melancholy feeling to settle over the world, a feeling that left a thickness in his chest. Maybe Rolf is the only person in this fucking place that can be happy, can we even find her?
"Manure!" Rolf exclaimed, shocking Kevin out of his train of thought. It was clear as his eyes fell on the driver what the problem was, the headlights had dimmed and were flashing on and off. "I must stop this vehicle and inspect the innard of this contraption!"
"Dude, not that big of a deal, it's not like we'll hit anything, and there's enough contrast between the sand so we can keep going." The lights flickered again, staying off this time, causing Rolf to hit the dash. Wilfred stirred but didn't wake up. Kevin watched the road in front of him, Rolf still ambivalent about his course of action as they made their way in the darkness, pounding on the dashboard again, causing the headlights to flicker on just in time for them to see the outline of a person they were about to collide with.
Rolf hit the brakes, turning the wheel and skidding to a stop in the sand to the left of the road. "Just keep driving, he says." he muttered under his breath as Kevin jumped out of the car and ran towards the body laying on the ground, illuminated by the now fully functional headlights.
The man was slender, almost frail looking, and was curved into the fetal position on the uneven cement, he was dressed in a pair of grey corduroys and white button up short-sleeve shirt, a red argyle sweater vest over it, on his head there was a black sock cap with two white lines. Kevin bent down, his hand slowly moving towards the shaking young man, afraid he was hurt, but before he could touch him his green eyes popped open and he slowly pushed himself off the ground.
"Good gracious!" the black-haired young man exclaimed, pulling his lower lip between his teeth revealing a rather noticeable gap between his front teeth.