Bassie's World - Chapter Twenty

Instructions

[ Dyle, 1:05 AM, ??? ] I woke up, and the first thing I did was look over at the analog clock hung upon my wall. I was not shocked at the time. I had lost sense of when the day was, and when the night was. Other Toons are more coordinated with their schedules than I am, currently. What did the time-of-day matter, anyway? I was only of use to the others if it was Ration Day. I know everytoon thinks I love Ration Day. That I love to make everybody else feel worse than I am. But that is what pains me so. That thought about me, that inference, that assumption. It is untrue, mainly because I comprehend the inferior coworker that I am. There was no point for Bassie to make me unaware of the past of this run-down museum, and no point for her to make me believe that I had equal authority to her. She has called me a 'sucker for rules' many times, and I cannot argue that it is false. Briefly, before she spoke to Vee of her plan to convince that TV to aid her—although it could be considered that Bassie forced Vee—, she defined her plan to me. I hadn't any option besides to accept it, and I concluded it was the same with Vee. It isn't the worst thing that basket could've proposed though. In fact, there are a lot of things she could have said that I would have righteously declined. As long as I uphold my job as the manager of the trains, though, I do not mind what happens to everyone else. I got out of bed and turned on the lights. My small room looked the exact same as it always did. My bed was in one corner, with a dresser who was carrying a lamp on top of itself beside it. Then, there was a wooden bookshelf, however, I did not know how to read most of the words in those books. Although I am known for having some of the best vocabulary in this abandoned establishment, I do not know how to spell or read most of the things I say. I know the alphabet, and how to spell the names of not just the Toons, but also the Toon Handlers and the Toon's creators. I turned the lights off again as I exited the room. It led into the lobby, and I stared at the exact spot that it happened. "Seriously, Dyle?" Brusha's words replayed in my ears. I couldn't help but picture the genuine worry in her eyes, the way it looked like tears would form in them any second now. That day, I had been angry at Bassie. I was doubtful when she reduced the imports to monthly, and now I was enraged at how those monthly imports would be half the size they used to be. I do tell Bassie when I have thoughts of the imports being too much for us to afford, but the first time, I had emphasized that we should decrease the amount of them. This second time, where she had decreased it again, was uncalled for. I hadn't even recently expressed a worry for money. If anything, she's the one wanting to starve the Toons. When Brusha said that, I honestly agreed with her. Since it was blaming me, though, I only became more upset. Sometimes I don't think before I speak, and the thing I say is like a darker, twisted version of me. That is precisely what happened when I replied to Brusha. I knew that I would never receive a chance to apologize. No matter. I have more important dealings to serve. Or, at least, that is what I tell myself. I am needed nowhere until Ration Day rolls around again. It is a sequestrative life that I live contentedly. The other Toons were made to specifically strive for attention, and affection. They were more driven by emotions than logic. On the other hand, I was made to be unlike that. I was made to follow what my brain says, and not my heart. Delilah told me that a long time ago. I know from my phone calls to the outsiders that it is 2008. When I was told that, I had just been made. It was 1988. 20 years have passed. Gardenview originally closed down in late 2003, and Bassie's world popped up in the middle of 2006. It does bewilder me that Bassie is still able to maintain the lie we live in. If it wasn't for Vee being able to alter memories, that may not be the case. Oh, drat. I did have one thing I was meant to take care of that I had forgotten about. Feeding Pebble. Bassie accidentally turned Pebble into a Twisted through some events she never told me of, and now he's like her personal dog. He only needs to be fed every week, and since today was, what? The 5th of April? Yes, a Saturday. He gets fed on Saturdays. I took the elevator to Bassie's labyrinth-like floor, which was absolutely putrid, by the way. Pebble could access all of the vents on this floor. Bassie had made them larger so he could walk around in them. Thank goodness they were there when Bassie scratched Shelly up well. Before that, he had been in the room with her, and she commanded him to leave before Cocoa and Shelly could see him. Bassie isn't stupid, and she is not very insecure anymore. Now that she has a stable position above Cocoa, most of her worries are either bottled up or gone. +