Jimmy & Donald play Viscera Clean-up Detail
- by Benjamin Porter
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Now my warp drive has been upgraded with a Warp Reactor Theta, distant solar systems are finally within my reach. I land on a planet with a name I’m sure not one human would be able to pronounce. I look around, gather materials, take in the wildlife, speak to the locals, as much as listening to their arbitrary alien grunts and unsurely picking one out of three options, hoping for a reward constitutes a conversation. After about twenty minutes I decide this planet bores me, so I aim to seek out another one. As my ship takes off with alarming speed, I realize I haven’t heard from Donald in a few days. This fills me with a joy unlike anything I have experienced playing No Man’s Sky. Actual, pure, unadulterated happiness. I soak up the sun, the moon, the infinite stars and the cold, black void of space. I close my eyes, zone out.
My cellphones insistent trembling causes me to crash back to reality with a sickening snap. It’s Donald. Sometimes, I absolutely despise Donald, like I would rather be buried alive in an oxygen starved box, stuck six feet beneath the dirt, with fucking Carrot Top, than spend another ten minutes with Donald. Hesitantly, I pick up, already regretting this very decision.
“Jimmy, I messed up…” he says and breathes into the receiver. “Could you meet me by the Motel on route 9? Room 3.” Donald doesn’t even wait for an answer before he hangs up. He sounds terrified. Against better judgment, I pull on a coat and head out the door to meet Donald. He has me intrigued.
I knock on the door of room 3, not at all expecting what was waiting for me within. Donald opens the door, white as a ghost, covered in blood, smoking. I scan the room; find one dead girl on the bed, a large gash running vertically down the side of her lower back.
“Jesus Fucking Christ, Donald! What did you do?” I exclaim, my arms flailing of their own accord.
“It’s a blur man, I was high as a kite, and…” Donald begins, in-between drags of his Marlboro.
“What a surprise.” I scoff.
“Oh haha, Jimmy. This isn’t the time for your sanctimonious bullshit!” He looks at me with blood-shot eyes, pleading for help.
“Tell me what happened.” I say begrudgingly as my fists clench and my teeth grind.
“I was feeling lonely, Jimmy. You know that special kind of lonely only Cocaine can make you? So I arranged a little company for myself.” He continues, and I wonder just how uneventful his life would be if he never touched any of the mood altering substances he so frequently imbibes. Would he be like me? Would he be an even greater bore? “Thirty minutes later, she arrives, I hand her the money, and its straight to business.” Again he looks at me, takes out two more cigarettes hands me one, and lights it. “You’re gonna need it. Trust me.” He says. I pretend to smoke it, barely inhaling anything, as the smell alone is enough to make me nauseous. “So I’m railing this chick when suddenly everything goes dark and all I can hear is this faint hum emanating from within her body. I look down and see her kidneys glowing bright, like these golden beacons of sunshine. The hum grows louder, finally whispering ‘take us’ in my ear. Take us”
“You sure Cocaine is the only thing in your system?” I ask incredulously, I wrap my lips around the cigarette feebly and pretend to inhale.
“I may have dropped some 2C-B, but that’s neither here nor there, Jimmy.”
“No, I’m sure they in fact made your judgment even clearer, please, do continue, Donald.”
“I’m nowhere on the kidney transplant list, Jimmy. And you know I need that second Kidney to uphold my lifestyle.” He looks at me as if that was more than enough justification for his actions. “So brained her with the lamp and dug it out with my pocketknife. It’s currently residing in the cooler next to the bed.” He comes to a brief halt, breathing manically.
“What if she isn’t a match?”
“I’ll admit I acted a little irrationally.”
“Is she even dead?”
“I fucking hope so, I don’t want to have to explain myself.” Just as the words leave his lips, she lurches upward. “God! Jimmy! Grab the pillow! Smother her!” he screams without hesitation.
“Why me?” I ask, panicking, the butt of the Marlboro cigarette still smoldering and clenched between my teeth.
“Just do it! You’re closer to her than I am!”
I will never get the time back I spent sawing this poor girl into bite size chunks, or pulling out her teeth with pliers, or burning off her fingerprints. Nor will I ever be able to regain my sense of contentment and wonder.
I have simply shut down. I’m unavailable. Not there.
Carrying large plastic bags filled to the brim with dead hooker, soiled bed sheets and bloodied clothes; Donald and I leave room 3 of the Motel over by route 9.
“Please tell me you did not use your real name, Donald.” I ask in monotone.
“You think I would use my real name to check into sleazy motels and bang whores? That would be retarded, Jimmy.” He says, genuinely hurt.
“What? As opposed to knocking them unconscious, harvesting their organs, and badgering your only friend into not only suffocating her, but also chopping her up into tiny pieces and smashing her teeth out. No. Not retarded at all.” I’m shaking. Senses numbed, unresponsive. I’m in shock, probably.
“Fuck you, Jimmy. Thanks for helping me out though man. You really came through for me tonight. Do mind storing the kidney at your house for a few days? I need to sort some shit out.” He hands me the cooler. “Oh, how’s No Man’s Sky by the way? I heard it’s a little disappointing?”
“Yeah…” I say weakly, as he smiles and dashes into the shadows of the night.
I, he, we, never see eye to eye. We go by many names. They have me bound and gagged in the basement of my mind. They have trapped me in a deep state of vegetation. Locked down on the couch they, we are slowly fusing into. Their, our hands used only to rapidly tap buttons and masturbate. My, their eyes grow dull and listless from overuse. Our bodies are weak and malnourished. I count down the days until I am free. Until I never have to hear about Deadly Premonition, ever, again. Please. Send help.