CHAPTER 20

Clay awoke with a memory of random images and sequences that made no sense to him. His mind was beginning to go berserk. With all his might he got to his feet and walked towards the door, merely observing Bloberta vomiting he went out the door without a word.

Clay signed off whatever paper he was brought. He was glued to a chair with no real goal other than to survive. Calls made to him were met with swift approval no matter what the case. Clay didn't care. Nothing mattered. Life is meaningless compared to the afterlife. Afterlife is eternity. This life was temporary.

Bloberta tried her days cleaning the house with a lot of effort. She felt deprived from the pleasure of food, love, rest. Everything was now a chore. Clay was mostly out of the house she needed to arrange her own doctor's visits and other appointments.

Bloberta retired to the couch trying to enjoy the radio. When Clay entered. "Stinkin' dead end job..." Clay grumbled under his breath looking to Bloberta laying on the couch. Clay was deprived as well, of meaningful relationships. Clay decided to try his hand at conversing with Bloberta once again, it had been weeks since they actually had any pleasant conversation. He and she listened to the weather, that was to be his opener.

"Its turning spring...Excited for the nice weather?"

"It feels more like a fall...But yes I am looking forward to the weather."

"Is all the news from the doctor alright? You seem upset."

"I am not upset about anything regarding my child."

"Ahem, that happens to be my seed inside you, too."

"And what effort have you made to help me give it proper care?"

"Uh does the roof over your head, or the food I make for you not speak enough for itself? After you told me I'd never have to make another meal in my life here I am making every meal for not only me but you as well!"

"How is it that the most powerful man in Moralton knew nothing about sex or how pregnancy works. You need your hand held through everything don't you?"

"You know what I was trying to be nice at first but fuck it." Clay got up and stormed up stairs to his study. Bloberta cringed thinking she may have overstepped.

Clay in his study with a few new arrangements and decorations still sat upon the ground, crossing his legs. Closing his eyes. Months of unloving, unappreciative, sex. Months of resentment, all of his sacrifice only met with apathetic sarcastic statements. A part of him wanted to grab a gun shoot everything...everyone in the house. Morality was not lost on him yet however. Taking out your anger had to be done in secret and in alone. Clay packed a couple guns, getting his hunting vest on and walked out the door with nothing other than: "I'm going out for the weekend. Bye."

Bloberta twitched a little but her indifference to Clay's presence told her to sleep instead.

-

It must've been 11pm when Clay drove his way out to the Moralton Nature reserve. It was a beautiful forest filled to the brim with animals just begging to be killed. Though Clay never actually hunted an animal ever before...He was merely using this night to employ his survival strategy. He'd been taught little from his father to survive in these conditions. But genetic consciousnesses helped him. For the humans before him lived for a minimum to bring his existence to light for a reason.

The forest was oddly peaceful, getting to sleep on the grass was easier than previously thought. Clay drifted off to dream land with intent to kill the coming morning. Memories began to flood in...

-

Clay woke up with only 4 hours of sleep and loaded his rifle determined to kill his first animal, and make a trophy out of it. Consciously leaving behind his "ole' gunny". It was his birth right and yet those comments made by his father in it being stained with blood affected him more than he wanted to admit.

Clay set out into the forest being sure to be quiet with every step. It had been years since he'd actually fired a gun. He actually hadn't thought about it until today. Clay had been deprived of ever actually going hunting. Only after Bloberta entered his life with thoughts of a son had he realized he'd never gone hunting.

Clay spotted a deer and in delight he targeted it in anticipation when sudden flashes of his mother collapsing interrupted his thought process. He fumbled his rifle when he saw the deer next to a smaller deer, obviously being their child. Clay stared in frustration and slight jealousy. He tried his best to aim and fire but his finger simply could not pull the trigger. Strange visions of the past that had nothing to do with this intruded his mind.

Clay being fed up at himself returned to his camp site and examined the rifle as well as his hands. He didn't understand why he was suddenly being soft on these animals below him.

'Ole Gunny' called out to him in a snake like voice.

Clay turned to the pistol he merely brought as a good luck charm so to speak rather than an actual weapon. But finally Clay realized he needed to make his first kill with this pistol, as was its intention to be his first hunting trip, his first kill. In using the gun he'd begin the tradition anew and fully relinquish his father's claim to the Puppington tradition. He'd broken it, Clay would redeem it...

Clay slept on it and awoke once more early in the morning. This time he brought 'ole gunny' along, and loaded Ole' Gunny with 6 bullets. The deer couple of mother and son had the routine he noticed. Sure enough he found them again at the same place. Clay held up his pistol, dangerous as hell, hesitating for only a second he closed one of his eyes after one shot, and closed both his eyes after another, a few other shots for good measure. He killed the mother and son deer in swift precision.

He started to shake in fear at what he'd done, the gun dropped to the grass and Clay looked at his master piece, A mother and son dead at his hand. He was honestly surprised his shots landed at how long it had been since he fired a gun. He didn't expect all the shots to land. The trauma was a bit too much to bear mutilating the corpse for his rightful trophy. Naturally he went to the campsite to drink himself to a sense of apathy towards the animal victims he'd slain. Clay decapitated the corpse of the mother deer as for the son deer he set aflame in a misconstrued sense of 'respect'. Clay watched the deer burn almost relating to it.

At some point he blacked out, his work was done, he'd proven himself to be a worthy hunter, and a worthy father to himself.

Clay felt a bit disappointed the next morning only the corpse burned, and not the forest and him with it.