Chapter 9

Ah, hangovers. Now those David understood.

He took his sunglasses with him to work for good measure. Even if the store did somehow get a customer, they would surely understand: light was pain right now, pure and simple.

You prefer this to post-coital glow?

I never get to feel that, David thought back. All I get are the aching muscles and rug burns.

I know it’s a crazy idea, but you could have sex with your girlfriend.

David’s heart slumped in his chest. I think I’d be a disappointment, now.

The rabbit shrugged. David’s relationship problems weren’t Mano’s relationship problems; his relationship with David’s girlfriend was just fine.

On the way to work, David decided he’d had enough of the hangover-worsening smells on the north side of the street; he had never been able to master the art of holding his breath all the way to Bob’s Pets. He exited the bus and immediately crossed to the south side where Bob’s Pets was. The first building, labeled “Pawn” (it was a pawn shop, but the sign broke and no one ever bothered to fix it), had a slight wafting of stale cigarette smoke. Next, he walked by Soles for Sale; the shoe store smelled heavily of leather and David’s stomach knotted. After that was Next Next Gen; thankfully, video games had no scent. David paused outside the store for a bit of fresh, non-pungent air before continuing on his way. Molded Sandwiches (their sign proudly proclaimed, “Freshly molded sandwiches when you order them!”) smelled like burned bread, turning David’s knotted stomach into a somersaulting acrobat. Finally, he arrived at Bob’s Pets, which actually smelled like something between a zoo and an animal charnel house, but David had been working there so long he had grown immune to the stench.

David hated both sides of the street and wished he could pay the bus driver extra to travel a few more meters before coming to a stop. Maybe he could get a jackhammer and move the sign closer. (David spent the rest of the day wondering how long it would take to crack the cement and move the bus stop sign.)

When David arrived at the store, Selzer didn’t say anything about the sunglasses. If any customers came in, Selzer would say something then, but he knew the chances of that were slim to none.

When Selzer went out to lunch, David turned off the lights and watched the glow-in-the-dark fish swim around in their tank. The Glowie Fish used to be their best seller, until Selzer raised the price. Now, death was the only way they ever escaped this shop of the genetically damned.

Every person who ever bought a Glowie Fish had to sign a statement that said they understood the fish had to be disposed of properly and were not to be flushed down toilets. David had never seen a Glowie Fish come back for proper disposal, though, so either they lived very long lives with their new owners, or there was a possible biohazard in the city’s water supply.

On an unrelated note, David did not drink water straight from the tap. It was one of the few things he was adamant about.

Are you ready?

Not really.

Don’t be a pussy.

I think your vocabulary’s gotten worse since you started playing human.

I’ll work on that. Are you ready?

Yeah, yeah, just get it over with.

It’s not that the process was painful; David was just being a pussy.

Mano had agreed to draw something different, maybe something that would count as character design. He put pencil to paper and decided to draw one of his neighbors from the genetics lab. The scientists had incinerated the abomination (it refused to stop growing), so it’s not like anyone would ever know.

“Euw, that thing is disgusting,” Amanda said, peering over Mano’s shoulder.

“You have no idea,” Mano said under his breath. He purposefully left out some of the pustules and bony growths; he didn’t need viewers vomiting on his hard work.

Next, he drew a female nude, producing Amanda’s curves from memory. He knew her body so well he could have drawn her blind. Mano drew extra slowly; Amanda would get curious again, and he could guess her reaction.

He was right; seeing him draw her so intimately made her want to be… intimate. She began kissing his neck. Because he knew it drove her nuts, he ignored her and continued drawing. Soon she was nipping at him, and then she was clawing at his shirt. Unable to hold back any longer, she climbed over the side of the couch and into his lap, straddling him and blocking his view of the paper.

He had actually finished the drawing about ten minutes ago; he just liked making her wait.

“I have claw marks in my back!” David said to the mirror.

Yes.

“Claw marks. In my back.”

She’s an animal.

“No, you’re an animal. She’s… I don’t know what she is.”

He tried to reach behind and put salve on the deeper scratches. The awkward movements of his shoulders and elbows would have the casual observer calling for a paramedic.

“Ugh, she never used to do this before.”

It felt good at the time.

David glowered at the rabbit’s reflection. “I wouldn’t know.”

David’s mood didn’t change at work, either.

“We can quit any time you want,” Mano said. “Say the word and it’s over.”

David flipped through his sketchbook. He had left his own disjointed scrawls in it to remind himself what ending the deal meant. The difference between his art and Mano’s was bigger than the difference between a child’s scribbles and a Rembrandt.

David was so lost in self-doubt and pity, he didn’t even notice his boss walk up to the counter.

“David…”

“What?” David looked up and immediately scrabbled to close his sketchbook. “Sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to—“

“Did you draw these?”

The tone of Selzer’s voice confused David.

“Uh, yeah,” David said. “Yeah, I drew these.”

“They look pretty good,” Selzer said, making sure to he didn’t compliment his employee too highly.

“Thank you, sir,” David said, still unsure of the situation.

“Would you be willing to make some fliers? You know, to advertise the store.”

If you agree right off, I’ll refuse to help you.

“Well…” David said, stalling.

What do you want me to do, then?

Let me handle this.

David shrugged mentally; before he could start another thought, it was done. The switch was so quick now it was almost instantaneous.

“I can do that,” Mano said, still in the process of metaphysically filling out David’s body. “But I get paid extra for the work.”

“What?! I already pay you!”

“Yes,” Mano said. “But designers make a lot more money than I do.”

Selzer didn’t answer. Instead, he walked away grumbling. When he reached his office, he immediately sat in front of his computer and turned on the screen. Thankfully, with the advent of the internet came the ability to find the wrong information faster than ever. He looked up how much designers were normally paid for their work, nearly choked on his bourbon, and went back to negotiate David’s price.

Mano started creating the fliers right away. Mostly he needed to draw some of the more aesthetically pleasing creatures in the shop. He’d still take some artistic liberties; nothing obvious, but they’d look more like must-have pets and less like science’s mistakes.

For lunch, Mano went to Molded Sandwiches, the sandwich shop on the east side of Bob’s Pets. He wasn’t going to eat the junk David always ate for lunch. As a rabbit, he appreciated leafy greens and vegetables. The vegetarian on rye at Molded Sandwiches was a lot better than some greasy almost-potato fries.

At the end of the work day, Mano let David have his body back. David returned to being human and was introduced to the worst finger cramps he’d ever experienced.

You are such a dick.

You’re welcome.