[Text Message Received]

From: King

A rabbit walks into a bar and sees an artist staring into an empty bottle.

“Hey man, what’s wrong?” the rabbit asks.

“I used to see things as half-empty, now it’s just all empty,” the artist responds with a defeated sigh.

“Dude,” the rabbit replies, “you should really be more hop-timistic.”

[End Message]

[Message Response]

From: Jack

Fuck King, do you want me to ‘hop’ out a window?

[End Message]

* * * * *

“Fuckin-A, King is really losing his edge lately. That old fart,” a young man in a plum blazer and a rabbit mask said as he pushed his way into a musty apartment, nearly tripping on trash piled near the front door and dropping his briefcase. As he entered, the smell of spoiled food, dirty dishes, and rank body odor slapped the rabbit in the face like a train headed straight for a landfill.

“I love my job.”

Piles of used dishes were strewn about the living room, which barely allowed enough room for such a mess in the first place. The walls of the apartment looked aged and stained from years of nicotine exposure, which had turned the paint from white to yellow.

Rabbit continued to look around, seeing botched canvas paintings propped up against the walls and various pieces of furniture. A coffee table stood in the middle of all the chaos covered in layers of dried paint like a Jackson Pollock painting. Ashtrays full of cigarettes and empty needles sat on the coffee table like remnants of a broken man, already lost to the stresses of his addictions.

In a nearby bedroom, a man was lying on a worn out mattress resting on the floor without a frame, completely dead to the world. Surprisingly, the room was void of clutter, unlike the derelict living room that was just a few feet away. On the wall near the mattress, a strange design had been marked using masking tape.

Rabbit approached the man on the mattress, leaning low to his face, “Ben…Benny…Bennnaaaay my man. Hello! You there chum?”

Ben remained nestled deeply into the worn covers on his old mattress, completely oblivious to anything happening around him. The rabbit clicked his tongue in annoyance and kicked the mattress. There was still no response.

“Ben my man, if you don’t get up I’m gonna teabag you. I have shit to do,” the rabbit chided, but for all he knew, Ben was in a coma or dead already. Well, he wasn’t dead because he was still breathing. The rabbit had checked of course.

SPLASH. Ice-cold water suddenly slapped against Ben’s face and dampened the sheets surrounding him. He gasped and sat up, frightened and confused after being ripped from a deep sleep.

“What the fuck Jack!? Are you trying to drown me in my sleep?”

“Nah man, you were just completely out. You missed it though; I rubbed my balls aalll over your scrubby face. But seriously, don’t make me water-board you. Get up,” Rabbit responded mockingly.

“I realize we have plans and all, but isn’t this supposed to happen when I say so?” Ben asked while wiping the water from his face with a dirty shirt that was lying on the floor. Now that he was free from his cocoon of bedding, the rabbit could see how skinny Ben had become. The meat had practically melted off of his bones, leaving a skeleton of the man once named Benjamin. His eyes had sunk into his face, leaving dark circles and making him look aged beyond his years.

“You do this every time,” Jack started, “I hate to say it man but…you need to shit or get off the pot. You’re just wasting away at this rate. I have no obligation to help you do this, so either get help or go out with a bang.”

“Fine, just let me have my morning tea and a shower.”

Jack raised his eyebrow, “Uh huh, sure…take your time with that shower.”

Jack waited in patience for about an hour while Ben gathered himself. He didn’t care to hang around clients for too long, but Ben was a pretty decent guy when he wasn’t wallowing in his own misery. It also helped to open a window and let some fresh air into the apartment.

Jack quivered in disgust as a roach crawled out of an old cup of ramen. However, it wasn’t out of the ordinary to see neglected households in this business.

“I will name you Ben Jr. after our highly esteemed artist friend,” Jack said while pointing at the roach as its antennae flicked, “he will live on through you after you have pecked at his – “

“Uh Jack, I’m ready…” Ben said as he emerged from the bathroom. He was freshly shaved, pieces of toilet paper sticking to his skin where he had nicked himself (he hadn’t shaved in ages). His attire had improved drastically with a clean, button-up shirt and a pair of navy slacks. The malnutrition and years of substance abuse were still apparent, but Ben had become noticeably more presentable.

Jack whistled, “Damn Ben, I’d fuck ya.”

“You really are an idiot Jack. How did you even get this job,” Ben asked while raising an eyebrow, “but there is one last favor I want to ask of you.”

“Sure dude, whatever you need.”

Ben held up his bony left hand, revealing a faded ring tattoo on his ring finger, “I want you to return this ring to my ex-wife. I’m sure she’d love to have it back.”

Underneath his mask, the corners of Jack’s mouth twisted into a wide, sick grin. He chuckled maniacally under his breath for a moment and then disappeared to retrieve his belongings. From the briefcase he had brought to the apartment, Jack produced a small surgical-saw and tested its functionality.

“I love my job.”