Flipsided

Cracked Reflection

Am I insane? Yes, yes we are. I was talking to myself, asshole. I know, and yourself responded back, dumbass. Ugh... My name's Oswald Mitchell, but most people call me 'Freak', 'Two-face', and almost every other offensive name they could call me. Don't forget 'Jekyll'! And my 'friend' here is an asshole. Hey! You're supposed to tell them my name dumbass! His name is Jack. We're both cats, well, technically only one of us is a cat. We have some... problems. Understatement of the fucking year. Whatever. What time is it? I glance over at the clock. 9:30. Alright, guess it's time to get out of bed. No! It's so comfy here! Too bad.

Getting out of bed and making my way into the main room, I see a familiar skinny ferret lying on the couch, fast asleep in an awkward position with his earbuds on and his cassette player in hand. That would be my roommate, Paint Osborne. If I could describe him in one word, it would be 'strange'. You're one to talk. He's almost always wearing a paperboy hat, a jacket with an assortment of pins on it, and a shirt with an image or logo of some kind. That's been his style ever since we were kids, minus the pins. Right now he's wearing a T-shirt with the cover of Abby Road by The Beetles on it.

I should probably wake him up. Pour ice cold water on him! First off, we don't have any ice cold water. You broke the fridge last month and Paint made it worse when he tried to fix it, remember? Heh, fun times. Second off, he's holding his cassette player, and I'm pretty sure he'd be pissed if we got it wet. You're no fun. And you're an asshole.

Jack suddenly kicks the side of the couch hard, causing Paint to scramble awake and fall off. "I'M UP! I'M UP!" a startled Paint yells from the floor.

"Mornin."

"Morning," He gets up and brushes himself off before straightening his hat. "Didn't realize today's forecast was calling for falling ferrets."

"Yep. You want the bathroom first?"

"No thanks. All yours today." He sits back on the couch.

And with that, I go to the bathroom and I'm met with the same cracked mirror I see every morning. I stand there for a while staring into the mirror and I see a familiar cat with messy white fur, staring back at me with those amber and green eyes. You really need to start being less ugly. That face could scare a monster. "It's your face too, asshole." Yeah, but I'm not usually the one in charge. "Just shut up and let me take my meds." Maybe I will, maybe I won't. Ignoring him, I fill up the cup I keep on the edge of the sink, empty my pill bottle into my paw, and down the medication with a big gulp of water. Ugh... I hate that taste, but it's better than having to deal with the consequences of not taking them.

I take a moment to study my fractured reflection. I hate those eyes. Those stupid horrible eyes. My life has been one unfortunate event after another because of them.

"Hey, you almost done in there?" I hear Paint say from the other side of the door. "You've been in there for a while. Do you need any help or anything?"

"No, I'm fine. I'll be out in a second."

"Okay, just don't take too long. We're going somewhere today."

I take a few minutes to recollect myself and leave the bathroom. "Alright, where are we going?"

"It's a surprise!~" He says in a sing songy voice.

"It's the dump, isn't it?"

"Wha-! Hey! I'll have you know the dump is an amazing place filled with countless treasures! But no. Just follow me!" He grabs me by the wrist and drags me out of the apartment. As soon as we step outside, he puts his earbuds in and starts doing a sort of dance walk down the street while humming.

I follow him, listening to the sounds around us, like the occasional crunch whenever one of us steps on one of the shards of glass littered about on the cracked sidewalk to the sounds of people doing dumb shit with their lives. You get used to it all after a while. The smell of drugs, chemicals, and blood is pretty common in this part of the city, along with fights, robberies, and people who will try to beat you senseless because you looked at them wrong. My people!

Wherever it is where going isn't in this part of the city. If it was, Paint would have brought his makeshift weapon he made out of a sock and a couple sticks of butter or his rubber chicken 'sword'. Unless we're going to the abandoned arcade, but usually Paint brings his tools when we go there. Maybe Paint actually did something worthwhile for once and found a place where we can beat people up with reckless abandon! See, this is one of the reasons I don't like talking to you. Love you too

After a long walk, we find ourselves in front of a cafe. Paint looks over at me with a big smile. "We're here!"

"You took me to a cafe? Why?"

"Well, I figured it's been a while since you've had a good cup of coffee since you've looked like you just crawled out of a coffin for the past week. Besides, I wanted you to meet a new friend of mine. I know what you're thinking, 'You have a friend?!'" He says with a chuckle before opening the door. "Come on!"

I reluctantly step inside. This'll be interesting.