Post-It: ETD 00:18am [Video]

[maced_eggs]

[So since he's not permitted in the pub anymore, Mason has decided that the pool is a close second preference. Wearing a swimsuit with the Union Jack on it, he lies half in and half out of an inner tube, his rabbit perched precariously on his chest. Do rabbits like water? Can they swim? Who knows?

He drums his fingers on the inner tube, petting a sniffy rabbit with his free hand]

...Right.


Evening, Barge. Or, morning, or whatever the fuck time it is.

Let's you and me have a little betting game. I bet...you can't knock me out of this tube. You bet you can.

If I win, you've got to go get me a beer from the pub.

And if you lose, you've got to go get me a beer from the pub.

First challengers being accepted now.

Comments

[maced_eggs]

S'not true.

Look, I'm jus' happy to do my thing, all right? I don't want interference in it.

[routemistress]

Doing your thing got you dead before you were thirty, you muppet. Can you blame us for wanting you to do a bit better next time?

[maced_eggs]

What next time? I don't get a next time, Iris. I'm stuck where I am. S'just the way it is.

[routemistress]

No, Mason, it's not. 'Ave you not noticed what it is we do 'ere, at all? You're living in a bloody Next Time factory 'ere, you plonker.

[maced_eggs]

I'm being serious, Iris. There's nothing I've got going back to. If I go back before I died, I'm going back in time forty bloody years. I won't fit in.

An' what's the other option, being a reaper? Which wasn't so bad, except I was bad at it.

I've been trying to tell people this, an' your only answer is to give me all these options I don't want and don't fit into.

Don't fuckin' well understand a man's being out of time.

[routemistress]

I'm a flipping time traveller, Mason, you prize melon, where'd you get the idea I don't understand that shite?

Ever seen the thirtieth century? Ever seen any planet but Earth? You're looking at two options out of literally infinity and 'cause you don't like either of them you try and tell me the entire thing's pointless? 'Ow do you not drown yourself in the bullshite coming out of your gob, Mason?

'Sides that's not your real problem and you and me and our Gwen all know it.

[maced_eggs]

...well, I'd miss people from my time. People I might not get to see ever again.



What's my real problem then? I've fuckin' told you my real problem already.

[routemistress]

Your real problem's you've convinced yourself you'll fail as an 'andy excuse for never trying.

[maced_eggs]

I don't know if it's escaped your notice, but my one defining an' consistent feature is that I fuck up things, Iris. I fuck them up well and good and if I can't make things right I'd rather just get drunk and call it a day.

[routemistress]

It's been 'ard not to notice, Mason. Derek and me were the first ones Joker murdered after you brought 'im on board, remember?

But I understand. Much too much like 'ard work to learn not to fuck things up, eh?

[maced_eggs]

[Cowed by this, Mason shrinks down, looking embarrassed]

I put in hard work an' I fuck up anyway. It's not 'won't', it's 'can't'. I've not ever been good at anything and there's nothing out there for me.

Admiral ought to have jus' let me...I dunno, I can't die again, an' they wouldn't let me keep on being a reaper apparently. Is there a hell? Am I going to hell if I don't graduate?

[routemistress]

Sweetheart, it's bollocks that you're good at nowt. Harvey wouldn't've graduated without you, you know.

You don't want to go back to reaping. That's an 'orrible job and no one with any feelings ought to 'ave to do it. You know what I think you'd be really good at? Working with old folks or sick folks or special needs kiddies: you've got so much kindness and patience in you, Mason, so much love. You know what else 'asn't escaped my notice? The only thing that made you really angry, that made you want to kill, was someone defenseless being picked on. There's plenty of that going on out there, isn't there?

[maced_eggs]

[He gives a sheepish, embarrassed grin, looking down at his hands]

I won't argue the job is total shit. But if I left it, I wouldn't see George or Daisy again. I like them. They're jus' about the only people I'm actually friends with.

I dunno. I'm trying to think what I wanted to be when I grew up. Wee Me wanted to be a rockstar. Not much call for that, the 60s are over. I don't understand the music they've got going on now these days.

You really think I'm kind?

[routemistress]

I 'ave never seen you not try and 'elp when anyone's unhappy or in trouble. Never. That's why reaping did your 'ead in so bad, my darling; all that death and cruelty rubbed in your face day after day? I'd've gone off my rocker if I'd 'ad to do that and all.

[maced_eggs]

...It wasn't fun. Some days, I can't get the worst ones out of me head.


But what do you do? People have got to die. It's how the world works. An' you know where you've been doing something for so long, you can't imagine not doing it?

[routemistress]

That's a system ripe for reform, then. Maybe we can tackle that after you graduate, lovey. There's lots of better ways we could make that work.

And aye, I do know what you mean. But it's time you started expanding your imagination, my darling, 'cause you're not leaving 'ere till we can get you settled into a life you love. One that makes you as 'appy as wardening and adventuring make me.

[maced_eggs]

Tackle death? Death itself? Bit of a tall order, don't you think?



...That sounds very nice, Iris. But I'd have to think long and hard on it, I don't quite remember what makes me happy these days. My rabbit, and Gwenny, an' drinking...Well, drinking doesn't make me happy, but it dulls sadness.

[routemistress]

Not Death, no; that's as necessary as birth and change and gin. But making some poor bugger like you sit in on other people's without a change for decades? That part we can do without. Make every dead person do one before they move on, for instance; that ought to be workable, don't you reckon?

You'll work it out. You're smarter'n you look, you know, Mason.

[Iris is sometimes grateful she's had so much practise at lying straightfaced.]

[maced_eggs]

Rube wouldn't like us touching that system. Far as we know, it's been in place for thousands of years. What would happen if we went about changing things?

...You think so?

[routemistress]

[She doesn't think so, no, but she thinks he could be with enough encouragement; so she continues to lie with conviction.]

I do. You just need to start thinking instead of trying to avoid it all the time, my darling.

[maced_eggs]

Thinking about it depresses me, though.

[routemistress]

That's 'cause you're trying to think about death and misery and failure. Try this: think of a life where you're doing a thing you love. Think of waking up every morning and you can't wait to get started. Not necessarily a paying job, you understand, just ...a thing you could be doing.

Imagine that feeling. Then try and work out what you want that life to look like.

[maced_eggs]

...I don't know if I love much anymore.


I think I love people. Certain people. An' music and the 60s.

Mostly it's things I can't imagine I'd deserve.

[routemistress]

Mason, you are a sweet man with a good 'eart. Forget about telling yourself you don't deserve shite, will you? Forget about messing things up.

Do this as an exercise in imagination: forget the details, just imagine 'ow it feels. To 'ave a life you love so much you wake up smiling every morning. Once you've got a picture of the feelings in your head, once you can call up that feeling, then you can work out what you need to get there.

[maced_eggs]

...Well, I mean.

Could it not be for me?