He greeted me warmly. I hadn’t yet seen the joke he left on the top side of the Fal Mouth Moon. The jester’s hat isn’t there for nutt’n. He got down to business. “I want the carrcasses,” he said. “I have permission now. You wouldn’t have gotten this far at all if it wasn’t for me… us. I know that much.” He folded his hands back behind his head, but that was just the animation.
“Sure,” I said. “I’ve already given them to Pierre Schaeffer, to Carrcassonnee. Whoever wants to take over is fine. You’re the logical successor.”
“Do you know what that implies? he replied. I did not. “We’re on a new continent now… you and I. Nautilus. Yd Island is the first. The Rabbit Head of Ratzenberger indicates to me that it is the One. You sold my real life self talking to him on that Bunny Trail of yours in your park — and then watching the actual real deal afterwards — and now he’s sent me here to negotiate.
“You’re doing an excellent job,” I reinforced. “Very real in a surreal way. Life-like, yes.”
“Thank you. So here’s the contract.” Surprising me, he whipped out a piece of paper from behind his head. It was written in black but with much red highlighting of text. I read it. I signed it.
“Given I can’t take your first human newborn…” he quipped. What had I just done?
Sunklands 