Chapter Three
Trigger Warnings For This Chapter: Cursing, Mental Illness Traits, Hallucinations, and Homelessness
"I hate salty water. Poit."
"…ridiculous…-"
"-…Rickyless"
"Ghosts…"
"Kick him!"
...
Brain launched forward dramatically, chest heaving. He clutched at his heart and took in his surroundings. His wall clock, bedside table, alarm, window… he was in his room. Brain's breathing slowed down. It was just a dream.
His morning routine went by as usual. Shower, black slacks, Pinky, plaid shirt, is he okay? Jacket, gun, does he need a gun? Wallet, shined shoes, coffee, did he get home OK?, and a bagel. Locked door, a letter, ….,
A letter?
Brain halted in front of the doors that led outside and backtracked to the mailboxes. The slots had holes in them, so he could see if he had anything in there. Unless it was a bill, there was usually never anything there. But today, he could see an envelope. Maybe I forgot a payment? There's no way he could have, though.
He quickly grabbed the envelope and headed off to work. He'd read it later.
Brain walked over to the train station, his hands firmly holding the letter in his pocket. … maybe he should just go ahead and read it? Curiosity won over, and he pulled out the envelope. He was careful as he broke the seal, and he slowly pulled out the paper.
Deer Brain-
The train pulled in, bringing with it a strong gust of wind. Brain had been handling the paper so delicately that the wind gust was powerful enough to pull it from his hands.
"No!" He turned in the direction that the paper flew, but it was long gone. "Dammit!" The small man fumed, frightening anyone who was walking by. He stomped his way onto the train and sat down with the weight of a small car. DEER Brain?! It was definitely a letter from Pinky! He couldn't confirm that for certain, but something in him screamed that it was his. When had he written that? Yesterday? This morning?
He lowered his head in between his legs and groaned. What if it was important? Maybe Pinky already changed his mind about Saturday… he hoped not.
Brain didn't bother looking up the whole ride. He didn't have it in him to look at anyone. He could tell where the train was based on the number of stops anyway. He could hear people arguing, cursing, scoffing… not a single nice word or happy laugh. An image of Pinky's smile flashed through his mind. Brain blushed. Then an image of Pinky's abs came through. Stop! Uh, the smelly lady from yesterday, the social worker, SNOWBALL! Brain exhaled with relief as he effectively removed the image of Pinky from his mind.
The train stopped where he was to get off, and he exited quickly. He walked a little too fast towards his place of work. Not that he was eager to get there so soon, it's just…
Brain slowed down when he got to the sidewalk a few blocks before the donut shop. He looked around and frowned. He was hoping to see Pinky down here. He must be done with that particular gig. Or he thought you were pathetic- no. Pinky wasn't like other people. Brain shrugged and headed to the tall, grey building with its depressing grey clouds that seemed to perpetually hang over.
He trudged up the steps and walked inside. Jenny was there at the front desk typing away on her computer. She didn't look up from her screen as she spoke. "Feeling better, are we?"
Before Brain could answer, she spoke again. "Good, good. Here." She stopped typing and grabbed a huge folder filled with papers. "You need to go through these and organize them. They're candidates we think might have a shot at getting employed at the coffee shop down the road. Snowball says he wants the women separate from men. Says women would be more suited for the job."
Brain grabbed the folder with a raised brow. "If they're all candidates, then why does their gender matter? Seems a little unfair. Shouldn't the process be a little more random or perhaps based on each person's current situation?" He knew he was wasting his breath. Brain had had this conversation several times before with both Jenny and Snowball. Nothing he said mattered, though.
Jenny waved him off. "Yeah. Probably. Just go and do it. We aren't getting paid to be fair. We get paid to do what they," she pointed to the ceiling, "tell us to do."
Brain rolled his eyes and walked down the hallway through the right-side door. In his cubicle, he sat down and dropped the folder onto his desk. There were a lot of papers in it. He sighed and pulled out the first one. There was a picture of a man with a forced smile. It was set aside to Brain's left. The first of many without a chance.
Brain had gone through about seventy papers when he heard a knock on the side of his cubicle. He twisted in his roller chair and internally groaned. Paige. "Hello, Paige. Is there anything I can help you with?" The question was robotic and empty. She bothered him at least once a workday.
"Well, yes." She handed him a paper with a young woman estimated to be in her early twenties. There was other information, but Brain was disinterested.
"What do you want me to do with this?"
"That's my cousin, Peggy. She needs a job, and I was wondering if you could put her paper on top of the stack you're making. The stack with actual chances."
Brain shrugged. "I'll put her in, but that still won't give her a guarantee. Even if she's at the top."
"Well, at least her odds are a lot higher." She walked off with a flip of her hair, clacking her pink heels loudly.
Brain's eyes landed on the heels a moment, and he was reminded of Pinky again. Mmmm. Pinky. - No! Stop! Not again!
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Pinky gulped and knocked on the door to his boss's office. He wanted to see him, and Pinky knew exactly about what.
A rude boisterous voice boomed. "Who is it?!"
He closed his eyes and breathed to calm himself. "I-it's Pinky, sir!"
"Come in!"
Pinky slumped in, keeping his eyes on the ground. He had only just got here, and he was in trouble. Pinky wrapped his arms around him in an effort to comfort himself, but also because his sides hurt.
The man took a small drag of his cigar and folded his hands together. He had the look of a greasy car salesman. "Pinky. Where'd you go yesterday after your job?"
"Home. Zort!" He lied easily. "I was done, so I went home." He held up a plastic bag that was in his hands. "I didn't take the clown stuff. I brought it back. I was just really tired. Poit."
"That's great. Pinky. Great. What did you do with Mr. Ben's sign, huh?"
Pinky felt a tear slide down his cheek. "Some boys chased me down and broke it." He shuffled his feet awkwardly.
There was a slam on the desk. "That doesn't even make sense! Who would take a sign?! Listen, you either give the sign back to Mr. Ben, or it's coming outta' your pay! The poor guys goin' outta' business, for goodness sake." He took a deeper drag from the cigar.
"Y-yes, sir. I understand."
"Good. Now get outta' here."
Pinky was careful as he shut the door behind him. He slowly made his way upstairs, where everyone else was preparing for the day. He walked past people who were already geared up and sat down on a bench in front of his locker. Then he felt a pat on his back. He turned around and gave a small smile. "Mornin' Tip. How are you?"
"I'm just fine, Pinky! Heard ya gettin' yelled at by the boss. What was up with that?" The balding man suppressed a giggle as he looked down on Pinky.
"Oh. That. I'm just gonna' have some of my pay reduced because of a missing sign. Some mean boys took it from me and chased me. Poit." Pinky looked up and wiped the dried-up tear from earlier. He knew Tip didn't care. The guy just wanted to hear about what Pinky had done, yet again, to make the boss angry. It was entertainment for him.
"Wow. Well, that's messed up, huh?" He walked past with another pat to Pinky's back. "Crazy world out there! But, maybe that one Snowball guy will fix it up!"
Snowball guy? Was there a man made of snow out there? Pinky shook. Hopefully, snow people weren't like ghost people. He looked over by the window and looked back at his locker. The ghost man had followed him into work today. At least he wasn't scaring him, though.
Another man sat down next to Pinky to get to his own locker. "Hey, Jake. How are you?"
The other man barely looked at him. "Fine, Pinky. Look, I'm not in the mood for chattin' today. So just don't start."
Pinky grabbed his makeup supplies from his locker defeatedly. He headed over to one of the many vanities and began painting his face. First, a white base, then the overly red smile, followed by half-diamonds drawn over and under his eyes. "They hate you. They want you dead."
Pinky turned his head to see who had crouched down to whisper something so frightening to him, but no one was there. Again. Someone had said something similar to him a few days ago.
Pinky turned back and looked at himself in the mirror. His fingers came up to the sides of his mouth and pulled them back into a forced, desperate smile. His mother always told him to smile and that his purpose in life was to make people happy. Oh, he smiled. But, he was pretty certain that he hadn't ever made a single person in his life happy. … Hmm. Wait.
Pinky's eyes became half-lidded as he thought of the man who had taken care of him yesterday. He made him happy, at least. Mmm. Brain. Oh, he hoped Brain got his letter. Yesterday, he found a paper and an envelope on the sidewalk outside the apartment complex and couldn't pass up the opportunity to write a quick thank-you letter.
"Pinky! The boss wants to talk to ya again!" Tip shouted across the room louder than necessary.
Pinky slipped on his jacket and tied his shoes before heading back to the office. What could he have possibly found out within the past fifteen minutes to yell at him again? He pushed through the familiar door and stood there, ready to be yelled at some more.
The man caught sight of Pinky in the corner of his eyes and lowered his hand from his ear. There was someone on the phone. Was it an angry customer?
"Here. Someone's on the phone for ya. They said something about wondering what your availability was or whatever."
Pinky stepped forward and grabbed the phone a little reluctantly. People didn't generally ask for him specifically.
The man at the desk stood up. "I'm gonna go take a shit. Go ahead and talk to the guy." He left the office.
Pinky cautiously held the phone to his ear. "H-hello?"...
..."Pinky!"
Pinky nearly dropped the phone in shock. He gasped and hopped from foot to foot… then stopped. Gosh, that hurts to do! "Brain! It's you!" Then Pinky felt his chest tighten in a sad way. "Oh, no. Are you calling to cancel Saturday?!" He didn't mean to sound so pitiful, but if that was the case, there'd be no way for him to hide his devastation.
"No!" Brain answered a little too quickly. "I, uh, just wanted to see how you were doing."
Pinky blushed. "That's actually very sweet of you! I'm uh…." Should he lie? He nodded his head as he considered what he would say. "I'm pretty sore, to be honest. But I think I feel better than yesterday. I haven't done much yet, though."
"Ah. Well, that's good, I suppose. Um, you should gargle some more saltwater today. And for the next two weeks, actually. I didn't think to tell you that yesterday." Brain figured most people would have that sort of common sense, but he worried that maybe Pinky wasn't very bright. Not that he was judging him for it. "Also, you should keep an eye on the torso bruising and remember to take it easy."
Pinky was sure that if it was possible, he would've melted by now. Kind words were so few and far between with people, but apparently not with Brain. "Oh, well, thank you. It's a good thing you told me, 'cause I wouldn't have known to do that. Narf!" He subconsciously twirled the phone cord with his finger. "So, Brain, how are you doing? Did you get my letter?"
Brain coughed. "Uh, I didn't check for a letter. I'll have to do so when I get home." He felt bad for lying, but he couldn't bring himself to admit that he'd already lost it. "I'm, uh, doing fine."
Pinky's eyes went wide as he thought about something suddenly. "Brain! You're talking on the phone! How'd you manage?! Oh, I'm so proud of you!"
Brain's mouth hung open. He was talking on the phone! He didn't even realize. He'd been so troubled worrying about Pinky at work that he didn't even think twice about making the call. "I don't honestly know, Pinky. I'm sort of surprised myself. Huh." There was a comfortable silence between the two before Brain spoke up again. "Listen, Pinky, I've got to go now. Um, I'll see you Saturday. Stay safe and remember to take care of yourself!" He hung up quickly.
Pinky put the phone back and caught himself on the desk. He was a tad light-headed. But in the fluffy fun-fun silly-willy way. He practically floated out of the office and back to his locker. He locked away his things and lifted the post-it that was on the locker. It had his assignment for today. They wanted him to go to a kid's birthday party within the next two hours.
He giggled. Oh, that should be fun! Pinky was in a much better mood for the day after the phone call.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Brain quickly placed the phone down as Snowball headed towards him. He looked down at his desk. He was nearly done with the folder, so he wasn't too worried about being berated. He probably just wanted to flaunt around his status.
"Hello there, Brain! And how are we doing today? Better than yesterday, I hope." The sleazy man leaned up against the wall of Brain's cubicle with a devilish smirk.
"Yes, I'm much better." He sighed. "How are you, Snowball?" He placed a hand to his cheek.
"Aa-a-a. Remember, Brain, it's sir now. And I suppose I'm doing just wonderful! Have you heard the news of me running for mayor?"
Brain suppressed a growl. "Yes. I have. Congratulations."
"Why, thank you, Brain! I hope I win. I'm up in the polls, but you never know! Anyway, I just wanted to come by and see how you were doing on that folder, but it looks like you've got it pretty much handled. Ta-ta!" He wiggled his fingers as he waved and marched out of the room.
Brain felt smoke coming from his ears, and he returned to separating the papers. This time, a little more aggressively.
When he was finished, there was but a minute left on the clock for his workday. He stood up and stretched as he cleaned up his desk. He put the filed folder away in a marked cabinet and went to clock out. Nobody said anything to him as he left.
He sulked all the way to the train station. Snowball. What a jerk. Brain really hoped Sunday's plan worked. Then he'd never have to worry about Snowball again.
He got on the train and relaxed. Going home was much preferable to going to work.
When he got off the train station, he only got a few feet away before something blew in his face. "Erg! Curse this filthy town!" He angrily removed what he had assumed to be some burger wrapped and gasped. "Pinky's letter!?" What were the odds!? How was it still blowing about in the area?! Brain ran to a bench and sat down far away from the tracks.
He scanned the letter desperately.
Deer Brain,
Thank u for taking care of me. It was very nice of u to do that! I'm really eggcited to see you on Saterday! U are the nicest person I have ever met. I'll think about u every day until Saterday! I promise.
Love, Pinky.
P.S I hope u find a reson to smile this week! ull be mine :)
Brain got up and practically ran home. He didn't know why he was running; he just suddenly had so much energy. A woman who wasn't paying attention bumped into him.
"Hey! Watch it, mister!"
"My apologies!"
Once he finally got to his apartment and shut the door, he clutched the letter tightly to his chest and squealed like a little girl. He covered his mouth quickly and waited to see if anyone heard him. No one shouted through the walls, so he assumed he was in the clear.
He reopened the letter and re-read it a few more times, pausing to smile at the crudely drawn smiley-face at the end.
Brain had never felt like this before. Pinky. Pinky. Pinky. He didn't bother halting his thoughts. He was in the comfort of his own apartment. He didn't care if he was blushing or gushing or whatever. Brain was… happy.
The microwaved freezer meal actually tasted good, Murphy talked about things that weren't the election, and his mattress was extra comfortable that evening. He placed Pinky's letter on his nightstand and closed his eyes. Pinky. Pinky. Pinky
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
On the other side of town, cars rushed over a bridge, creating soothing bumping noises as they passed. Pinky cradled into the furthest corner under the bridge that he could with a torn blanket. It may have been a depressing scene to anyone who walked by, but to Pinky, it was just what he was used to.
Pinky hummed to himself as he got sleepy. The birthday party was alright. The little girl was a bit spoiled and rude, but otherwise, it went well. The rest of the day was relatively mundane, but one thought kept Pinky upbeat throughout it. Brian. Brain. Brain.
