Ratty’s Day Out - 2012

Rember: ratty sad

Eleanor shrugged. Ratty blinked, leaning to look behind Eleanor’s back and counting at least six space heaters, all plugged into the same less-than-solid power strip. That - in conjunction with the obelisk, made her just about opaque.

“Yeah.” She nodded. “It would be.” Eleanor turned to follow her line of sight, then blushed.

“Sorry- I- they make me feel real.” She turned away abruptly, the red still visible on the tips of her ears. “It’s good for the plants, too- I’m sorry This isn’t anything, right?” She threw herself down on the couch, kicking the record player on her floor and burying her face in her elbow. The tonearm picked itself up and set itself down in its cradle.

“What’s isn’t anything?” Ratty sat down on the arm of the couch, intentionally positioning herself so that her and Eleanor’s fur was touching. Eleanor - evidently - had no idea about her soft spot for massive dorks. Eleanor groaned quietly into the muffling fabric of her sweater in false confidence that it would completely silence her.

“Was that Gangsta’s Paradise before?” Ratty - sensing a plea for mercy - changed the subject.

“Yeah, I’m, uh, working on a song.” Still muffled.

“Like a toastmaster thing?”

“Kinda.” She uncovered her mouth. “Can you put something on?

“Do you have anything in mind?”

“You pick something.” With that, Eleanor turned over and buried her face in the pull-out mattress, somehow less muffled by that than her arm. Ratty knelt next to the coffee table, sweeping aside a pile of cassettes half way through their reels and pulling one of the plastic-smelling cases towards her. 

She tapped along the tops of tapes until she found what must have been the only piece of punk-rock in Eleanor’s collection: an almost untouched pirate tape of These Monsters Are Real. She rolled back on her haunches and shut her eyes as the song picked up, her fangs poking through as a gentle smile touched her lips.

God that was cute. Eleanor hoped silently that she couldn’t be seen staring. “You like this?” She asked.

“Love it.” Ratty muttered, flicking her hands in time with the beat. “Do you always have to be playing something?”

“Is it annoying?” Eleanor asked, suddenly feeling a little tight in her chest.

“Not at all, I’m just…” Ratty met Eleanor’s poorly hidden gaze. “...curious about you.” She said, a subtle wink in her voice. One of the fortunate things about being a ghost was that a certain level of blush plateau above what could be seen in her translucent form. What it could not hide was the goofy, scrunched up smirk Sloth-Bunny was now all too conscious of pulling.

“You a fag or something?” Eleanor teased, trying to recover.

“Hard not to be." Ratty doubled down, throwing up a quick hand-horns as though to accent her sharp edge. Eleanor froze, trying and failing to come up with a comeback for long enough to phase slightly through her mattress.

She settled on a shaky: "Shut up, oh my god. Why are you here?" With a sarcastic lilt in the ‘here’.

"Oh right, sorry. I found your family."

"What?" The rabbit's blood ran cold. She stopped herself just short of checking her wrists to see if blue was running through her veins. She sat in stunned silence as Ratty popped up onto her feet, not noticing the rabbit’s struggle to scrape up any scrap memories that didn’t consist of smug shit-shooting with her Uncle A.

“I uh, broke your step-brother out of prison.” Ratty said this as if it was the simplest possible thing. “Angel is gonna come up and portal us over, and I am going to leave so you can put pants on, I guess.”

“Well, wait. Hold on.” Eleanor grabbed the possum’s wrist, shooting a spike of ice up into her chest. “We should dri- Are you okay?” Ratty had flinched hard enough to have to stabilize herself on the opposite wall. She stood shaking, glaring down at Eleanor’s hand.

“Yeah, sorry, just don’t-” She started, her heart still racing as she tried her best to get back to normal. Eleanor pulled back, debating re-changing the subject and scrambling for an excuse. “You said Angel’s thing has been, like, messing up or something, right?” Eleanor forced a grin, struggling to hold down a rising bile. Something clicked in Ratty’s mind as a silent ‘oh’ crossed her lips.

“It is within driving distance.” She said, nodding slowly, choosing to focus on Eleanor’s anxiety over her own.

“Yeah, see, cool.”

“And we could get the big van out of storage.”

“See, absolutely, big van road trip.”

“Alright, cool.” Ratty clapped, not sure how to leave. “Big van road trip.”