Dayton arrived at the gas station twenty minutes later. The night couldn’t encroach on the lights, but it was waiting for them to die out, to rip existence apart and swallow the tatters. Or so his little green friends were trying to tell him.
But the gas station was calling his name, and the demented green rabbits wearing little top hats looked at him strangely. Harry would be able to help him out. The man always came through, in some form or the other.
“I was going to sell these pills to a minor. Good thing you showed up,” Harry said. He was always a man filled with idle threats.
Dayton gave him a noir-ish look. “A green-haired rabbit is trying to worm its way out of your mouth. And that top hat it was wearing just fell to the floor…”
“Sounds like next big hit street drug. I should stock up on the anti-street drug. Everyone needs to sober up at some point. I’ll make millions!” Harry said, making the shape of a billboard with his hands, and smiling, revealing a silver filling.
“I need your anti-thing, Harry.”
“Oh, here. Take it. You earned it after you fully stocked the meat plant. I’ve never seen so much deer meat,” Harry trailed off.
Dayton eyed the pills suspiciously before throwing them down his gullet. It felt like swallowing an anvil. He made a face. “I think you got the better end of the deal.”
“There will be many more, my friend. And don’t ever tell me that you need my anti-thing!”
Dayton nodded, grabbed a soda off the shelf, and left the store. The rabbits were still fucking with his head as he walked across the parking lot. Their green fur seemed to intensify in color, and their eyes were like haunting little pebbles. Like the kind you would see at the beach. They crawled along the streetlamps in a creepy spiral formation, and he chose to look at the cars or a confused looking old man skulking by the corn fields. The need to distract yourself to get through life was a fundamental law of nature.