005 - The World pt.04
#5 of Beastiary Beas Part 1 - A Valentines Story
-VALENTINES DAY 2017-
-16:16-
That's where we find Butters now, back in present time on their stroll back home. They couldn't wait! Who would they meet? What cuties would they smooch!? Butters thinks they scrub up pretty well for their late 20's, surely it's gonna be easier to pull now? It's gonna be a right crack, aaahhh!
God it's gonna feel so nice to not have to worry for one night, about any of it: Not about work or admin, not about bills or meds, not about loneliness or mental health shit, not about getting attacked by specists or the constant media strike against monsters, not about government legislation or about their future. All the constant little things get put on hold for one glorious night, it's like taking off the weighted armour, they can be themselves again. Vibrating with anticipation they start walking from their stop, power walking as if their birthday presents are waiting for them at home!
Of course to get home, there's the rest of the walk home and the walk was keen to remind any monster willing to take it, why these days of losing yourself are necessary. For every electronic store and pub you pass you're treated to the beautiful dulcet tones of the 6 'o clock news. With such delightful news reports as MPs advocating for restricted rights and curfews for Monsters, with rhetoric such as "Humanist interests'' being used as a justification. None of these 'Human interest groups' have managed to get any laws through the houses, but for how long?
There's so many names for them too it's hard to keep track: There's the Huntsman, like Red Riding Hood huntsman, a part of the Humane Huntsman Association (HHA). Mainly Humans in their 20's getting together in a shitty pub in the middle of nowhere getting pissed and saying how good it would be to skin a real monster, as they struggle to text back their dad telling them to finally get a real job. There 'Humanists' and all those spin offs, like 'Monster Exclusionary Radical Humanists' (MERH's) or the 'Human Dark Web' like how's anyone meant to keep up with that? With all these losers whispering in the ears of politicians, all it's gonna take is that one hard-right Tory election victory and it's over. Any Monster would try and keep their head high, but like a constant buzz in your ears the possibility of your freedom being voted out of your life looms. How long? How long will it take?
You try and look away from the screens and you go from institutionalist hatred of monsters to the local kind. You're just travelling home on the trams minding your own, while Sandra is home from her weekly supermarket trip, carrying groceries in a bag with a symbol that casually calls for the destruction of your entire species. There's a few of them, from the Magenta tinged 'Human Pride' flag, to a non existent definition of a [Adult Human Being] or the ever cute Huntsman memorabilia: From logos of wolfs being skinned, to the little green beret's with the feather in them, an aesthetics dedicated to a human letting you know they'd do anything for the chance to gut you like a fish. A personal 'favourite' of Butters is the one that's a human with puzzle pieces of dog ears being 'removed' to mean: 'Every monster has a human inside just waiting to come out! Donate to our eugenics fund today.'
These symbols are everywhere and constant, they mean nothing to the average human but to those in the know they're purpose is swift and effective. They're symbols of "Humanist interests": the fear that protection of monsters is inherently a threat to the Human Race. These symbols of pride in humanity are meant to let Monsters know they're not welcome, that their home is hostile to their continued residency within it. Camouflaging itself in progressive politics, appropriating ideals in order to push their message. In fact the Human Pride flag used to be a queer flag of some sort, but whatever it used to mean is long lost to time.
These symbols, on shirts, bags, plastered on the big screens and reoccurring in your notifications. After a while it starts to wear down the thick skin that lets you dismiss this as a few bad apples, you feel too on edge to enjoy yourself. These thoughts and possibilities poison Butters good vibes the longer they stay out, but they say to themselves: 'If this bums me out then they win.' They just have to make it home, chill out, start the pres and they can get back to being buzzing again. Rushing to the front door they barge their way in not even milliseconds after their key has loosen the lock. Their chant starts again "LET'S GO FUCKING MENTAL" as they rush upstiars to collect the kitty and lamb that'd be their partners in crime for the night.
However once again a sorry sight greets them as they enter the front room. There's nobody, nobody ready, nobody getting ready, nobody on the pre's. Just then Butters hears the faint sounds of Chloe hacking up their guts up from upstairs. Butters didn't need longer to figure it out.
-Fuck. They quietly say to themselves.