#TheBootlegParableNarrative

[bootleg-parable]

Heeey.

It's been a while since the story got its rewrite, hm?

Who's ready for Chapter 1?

[bootleg-parable]

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄

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Breathe…

Come on, Donnie, think.

If his hands weren’t both entangled in his hair and pressed to either side of his head, they would have been shaking. His breath escaped him on quaking waves of panic, and his eyes burned with tears that dropped onto the unfamiliar floor below him.

What’s the last thing that you remember doing before any of this happened? Where were you? How…How did I wind up here–?

You have to remember something.

Anything!

Anything…

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Donatello Angelo: Parcel delivery extraordinaire. That's what he called himself to lessen the drab of this soup-sandwich of a life he was living out. He never found any particular joy out of waking up every morning before the breaking of dawn for work. His only saving grace were off days, but with bills to pay and mouths to feed, those came very few and far in between. He was lucky enough to have the privilege of splitting those costs, but that didn't make them come as any less. Sure, he could spice things up with a new occupation, but this was the best-paying one that he could find in his area. He loved his quaint little neighbourhood away from the city, he really did. It was quiet. Everybody knew everybody. It felt like being surrounded by family that he didn't have before. But in being a good distance away from proper civilisation, it made job-hunting an extraordinary feat. It was just his luck that there was a Postal Index at the base of the mountain on which the houses were arranged, otherwise he'd have no job at all.

He had to take what he could get. That's just how life worked- no use in complaining. He knew better than to complain about that which could not be changed. Life was meant to be mediocre. You live and you die, right?

Right.

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......RRIIIIIIIIINNNNNNG!

Donnie groaned, eyes screwing tighter shut while the duvet came up over his head to drown out the rudeness of his alarm clock that he'd set himself the night previous. It was a Wednesday morning, and the sun was barely up. Wednesdays were always the busiest and therefore the worst. He'd be scrambling up and down every street on the roster all day long, and even now, with about two hours between waking up and actually having to get to work, he already wasn’t looking forward to it. Exhaustion was heavy in his mind and body and he hadn’t even stirred to get up yet. Ugh.

"Good morning, my light," Lulled a whispering tone as the ringing was willed swiftly to silence. He must’ve been asleep with the door open- he didn’t hear it click. A weight settled on the bed just beside Donnie, and that voice spoke directly against the back of his neck when the covers were inched down. "I made breakfast."

Donnie opened his eyes and turned himself over to face his housemate, being greeted in return with a pat on the cheek and a pair of smiling amber eyes. "...Mornin', Shie."

Shiloh Karmello, or, if you wanted to get informal about it: Officer Pompadour. They were the best detective on the entire police force, but more importantly, they were Donnie’s housemate, and have been for years now. The two kept each other well in line, balancing one another out in departments where they lacked. Shiloh was nicer than Donnie was, and they maintained a much stronger work ethic than he could ever dream of. The Police Department was thirty minutes away from the Postal Index, which was already almost a thirteen-minute drive, so Shiloh had to be up nice and early to get there on time. Donatello had no problem admitting that his clock was never actually the one to wake him up. Shiloh was. If they could make it day to day without so much as a sigh too heavy, then so could he.

He sat up from bed and watched as his friend's navy-blue figure slunk out the door, fastening a less-than-dress-code-friendly, pink tie around their neck. Or, well. Trying to.

"Come back here," He mumbled, his voice carrying quiet and airy, as it has for years since his childhood. He kicked on a pair of slippers and sleepily hobbled after the other, just barely missing the doorframe with his shoulder. "Idiot."

"Whaaat? I almost had it."

Shiloh leaned in a little closer for Donnie to finish- in a matter of seconds- what they'd barely started in minutes. Seeing as his own uniform required a well-done tie, he'd become a master at shaping one up. Shiloh's was only for show. Donnie didn’t doubt that they only started wearing one to match him.

He patted the side of Shiloh's chest. "'Almost had it', my ass."

"You're always so mean to me." Pouted Shiloh.

“You’re used to it.”

And to announce the coming of his early-morning awareness, he raised his arms above his head in a stretch and let go of a mighty yawn. Shiloh grabbed a hold of the wall and hunkered down like the ceiling was about to collapse.

"Woah. Did you feel that earthquake? It was stronger than the one from yesterday."

Donatello humoured them with a smile. "Shut up."

Dressed, right. He needed to get dressed. How long ago was breakfast made? If it was still fresh, he could probably shovel it down before it got cold. But then again, he didn't mind cold food. Microwaves existed, sure, but time did not. He could eat it in the car, warm or not. Shiloh was driving anyway. He fumbled around for a while putting on the layers of his uniform. Undershirt. Overshirt. Pants. Belt. Tie. Coat. Hat. So many different things to keep track of, and the clothing wasn't even the worst of it. He was lucky to live in a place where the heat was merciful. Running around in various sheets of fabric, lifting heavy boxes and taking care in placing them gently upon doorsteps to avoid incidents of damaged goods. It wasn't necessarily damning work, but it was enough to make a poor bastard sweat. ‘Tedious’ is how Donnie would describe it. The main challenge came out of interacting with people if they answered the door before he could run back to the vehicle. Nobody wanted to hang around anymore than they had to.

"Are you bringing Archie with you, today?" Shiloh questioned while shuffling through a bag for their utility belt. "Or is she staying around the office?"

Donatello mulled over the pros and cons in his head and grinded his molars together. It wasn't healthy, but it helped him think up until the constant pressure carried in a headache. "Not much help lounging around an empty building."

"Empty?"

"It's all hands on deck, today. We'll need all the help we can get, and with a small staff, it won't be much."

Archie was Donnie's service dog. She went with him everywhere, but sometimes when it came to making deliveries, he had to, unfortunately, leave her behind in the office, and one of his trusted coworkers would take her place. There were usually people in the building that could keep an eye on her and keep her busy, but Wednesdays were always an exception.

"Well," Shiloh jingled the car keys. "Her vest is hanging by the door. You can dress her up in the car." That was their nice way of saying 'get moving', which meant that they were running late.

Donnie could respect their patience. He would’ve just gotten straight to the point, no matter how it came across as he said it. They must've had a lot of composure over themselves, especially with a job like that. A detective? Jeez. Looking for evidence leading to the finalisation of a crime, picking out suspects and determining one's guilt by time, place, and a couple of strangely-placed smudges alone. Helping people was hard enough- so much so that sometimes it felt hopeless. Shiloh was strong to be doing what they do. Donnie admired that.

"C'mon, Chia," He patted his leg a few times, and out from her blanket-fort emerged Archie, shaking out her long, tricolour coat.

He gave her a good scratch behind the ears as good morning and scooped the paper plate up from the table that held his lukewarm breakfast. Almost show time. Just a car ride away. He scooted into the passenger seat and let Archie hop up and rest her front paws on his lap. In the time that it took Shiloh to buckle up, start the car, and pull out of the driveway, half of his food was already gone.

They almost seemed disgusted. "Where the fuck did it go?"

Donnie shrugged mid-swallow of an egg. He snuck a sausage Archie's way before strapping her into her vest and attaching the leash to the back hook. All set and ready to go. Maybe she could help him carry letters...Although, nobody wants slobbery mail. Maybe they'd make an exception since she was cute.

Maybe.

He stared out of the window during the spiralled descent down the road. Driving was one of life's greater tediums, as if it wasn’t already full of them. There were so many things to focus on at once, but even with a mind full of life-risking factors, Donnie would find a challenge out of fighting to stay awake while doing so. His brain was always asleep, but especially on the road. He would look into his mirrors to change lanes and receive the horn from a car that he swore wasn't there before. Stupid. He hated driving. It took him so long to get cleared for that licence, and for what? That's why Shiloh usually took him to work. It was safer that way. They went the same direction half of the time anyway. Though, on occasion, Donatello would take the wheel to give the officer a break after a long day. It wasn’t much since it’d always be on the way back home- a much shorter distance than what Shiloh had to travel just to pick him up- but every second counted. They deserved the rest. All he had to do was pay real close attention so he didn't kill the both of them in a wreck. Easier said than done, but anything for his friend.

Almost anything.

“Try to behave yourself today, okay?” Shiloh pulled the car around to the front and kept their foot firmly on the brake instead of shifting the gear to park. “I’m off early, so I’ll be here sooner.”

Oh, great. Maybe they’d send him home when they noticed that his ride was waiting a ridiculous amount of time for his shift to be over. Yeah, right. His boss would never have that kind of mercy on him. Work was work. You had to get it done, or you weren’t going anywhere. That’s how it was for everyone.

“Gotcha,” He said through a yawn. “If I’m not in the office when you get there, just hang tight ‘til I’m back.”

“I’ll be sitting pretty.”

His expression got flatter than he meant for it to. “Right.”

He popped the car door open and allowed Archie the honours of stepping out first. She bounded in circles to work out some of her energy while her not-so-energetic human dragged himself onto his feet, shutting the door behind him. Shiloh gave their housemate a wink and a snappy finger-gun just before the car revved forward, looped around, and peeled off down the road, vanishing around a corner. The day was officially starting. Don didn’t take enough time to mentally prepare himself for all of this, even if every day was the exact same routine with the exception of a few changes. It was too early in the morning. Maybe his coworkers would be too devoid of energy to spark much conversation. A couple of hellos, if even that. Anything more would be a surprise.

“Pray for ease.”

Archie whined.

The ground, composed of 90% gravel and 10% sparsely-growing grass, crunched underneath the soles of his shoes with every step that he took toward the door. He checked the parking lot while it was still within his view: either delivery trucks and three civillian cars, and one of them was definitely his boss’. Most of the bunch that he worked with still hadn’t arrived. Perfect. A bit more silence to relish in before daylight. He was so focused counting cars and getting lost in the personalisation of each individual vehicle to notice that the door was opened before he even reached it, and he collided face-to-chest with somebody much taller than he was…A lot of them were taller than him, but this person was colossal. That meant that it could be one of two people. Remmy, or…

“Marc.”

“Donnie.”

Marcellus was Donatello’s worst enemy. You know, the usual rivalry between coworkers. And of course, he had to be the first big-bearded face to greet him. It was going to be an excellent day.

“You’d ought to pay more attention to where you’re walking, little man,” He sneered as he stepped aside to let the other enter.

Don casted him as dark of a glare as he could manage. Archie did the same. “Keep your tits outta the doorway, then.”

“I was already on my way out before you came by, jackass.”

On his way out? Where could this lumbering idiot be going this early in the morning? He was already at work, what else was there? Whatever. It didn’t have enough of Donatello’s concern to sit and debate. He wanted to get inside and kick on the space heater by his chair. It was too cold outside without the sun.

So he retreated into the building, past Marcellus and through the double-doors to the main office. It was a b-line straight for his desk, where he bent down and twisted the knob on the heater at the foot of his seat to warm the place up a bit. Archie stretched her paws in front of the heat waves and plopped down right beside the machine. If she were a cat, she'd be purring louder than the mechanical hum of it. Donatello patted her lower back and placed himself in the chair near to her. Maybe he could take a nap. How long until the shift started, again..?

"Donnita!"

Oh, here he comes.

Of course, Donnie wasn't able to keep a perfectly straight-face on when Iilak came skipping over to him. The man was hard to be totally sad around. Something about him was just so contagious, and whether you liked it or not, every area that he was in became a no-moping zone.

"You're here early, my man," Iilak pointed out while playfully shaking Donnie's shoulder in greeting.

"Not by choice."

"Oh, I bet."

Iilak dropped to his knees as Archie quickly sat up to say hello to him. Her tail was wagging so hard that her entire body moved with it. She was all wiggles and excited whines, licking his hands and biting at his sleeves once they were in reach to pet her.

"Ooh, you're so happy. Are you so happy?" Iilak's interactions with Archie always made Donnie laugh. They were just so needlessly and effortlessly goofy. "Archie, Archie, Archie! Happy girlll."

"Stealing my dog, Remm?”

A smirk was sent Donatello's way. "Maybe I am. I'dunno, D.T., I think she likes me more."

Honestly, if Donnie were ever to kick it sooner than Archie did- which was entirely possible in his condition- he'd be perfectly fine with her being handed over to Iilak. Shiloh wouldn't have enough time to take proper care of her. Plus, she really did love the big guy. Who didn't?

"Fuuuuuck."

....Felix didn't. And Rem showed it plainly on his face: once holding a huge smile, and now nothing more than a deadpan, like his day had been ruined before it even began. There were always enemies in the team. Felix and Illak, Donnie and Marcellus. Luckily the others were none to hold gripes against one another, or else nothing would ever get done around here.

"I don't wanna do this fuckin' job, man."

And following Felix came Anwyllo, the head of their every operation and the voice of absolute reason. Sanest guy on the team. Coldest, too. Nothing could shake him. Donnie looked up to him a lot....literally and figuratively.

Gods, he wished he was taller.

"Nobody does," He droned, almost robotically. He must have gotten used to saying something along those lines every single morning. "But we get paid, and that's that."

Iilak hadn't even said anything yet. He only opened his mouth to give some sort of input- maybe he wasn't even going to speak to either of them, and was instead going to continue fawning over Archie- but Felix set himself a few steps ahead, no matter how blind the foresight.

“Shut the fuck up, Loch-Ness."

"Well, shit, good morning to you, too."

Anwyllo rolled his eyes. He usually had something uplifting to say to people, because he knew better than anyone how hard life could be, no matter how mundane or uneventful or problematic. But Felix- and lord knows Anwyllo hated to say it- was just a case that wasn't worth trying for anymore. Not to him.

"The boss'll be back in ten, and I have every intention to be halfway down the street before he does," Anwyllo announced. "I'll take whoever's willing to leave early."

"Dibs," Iilak kissed Archie's head and got to his feet, immediately stepping over to help Anwyllo pick up the three separate courier bags for their simple route.

"Perfect. See you guys at the stop signs."

Ten minutes, huh? That’s all the time that Donnie had to get up and get out of here if he wanted to avoid the boss. But time went fast ticking by in the face of his indecisiveness. If the larger bundles and boxes that Annie and Loch just hauled out were any sign of today’s workload, then Don knew that he’d have to take someone with him as well in order to get through a route faster than if he were by himself. But he didn’t want to go with Felix, much less with Marcellus. However, by the looks of it, Aella and Elliotte hadn’t even arrived yet- late, characteristically, even with an hour left before the shift. Donnie shouldn’t have even been surprised.

He was stuck with two poisons. One was just a bit more lethal than the other.

Ugh. Today was going to suck.

“Marc,” Donnie barked right as Marcellus returned through the door.

He halted in place with a flinch, muffin in his teeth like a rabbit to a wolf’s maw. Why was he holding it like that? There was no use in questioning it. Not out loud.

“Suck it down, red-head,” Donatello jutted his thumb toward route eight’s deliveries. “We’re out of here.”

The other spoke muffled from behind his assumed-to-be breakfast. “Me an’ you?”

Donnie nodded to keep it simple. His throat was starting to hurt already.

Marc groaned.

“I don’t like it either.”

Archie was standing before Donnie even had to give her the command. Any slight movement of his sent her right to her paws and glued to his left leg to support every step that he took, even if he didn’t need it.

Even if he didn’t think he needed it.

“Careful, little man,” Marc cautioned when Angelo put one of the straps around his shoulders. “Those are heavy. We don’t need you falling over again.” He must’ve thought that he was funny. So, so funny.

If Donnie were any less wise, he’d wonder how a bunch of paper mail added up to being almost ten pounds altogether. In truth, sometimes it still baffled him. Just a bunch of envelopes and sealed folders organised neatly side-by-side in a leather bag, and somehow just a few minutes of carrying them around made his body ache. But whatever. He could manage one and a few small boxes just fine, and luckily Marc wouldn’t have any problems carrying the other two.

Their route was a lengthy one. A long street lined with fancy houses and well-trimmed yards. Donnie called it “the rich neighbourhood”, because there was no way in heaven or hell that somebody with a normie salary was living in a place like this. Not unless they were barely scraping by on their higher-than-average mortgage, or living with a dozen other people to help pay it off. That might have been the case for some considering how much mail certain houses accumulated. Marc dropped off almost fifteen letters at one residence alone, and that didn’t include the arm-length package that Donnie had to drag onto the porch step. The only good thing about route eight was being able to look at all of the well-decorated lawns and to marvel at the architecture of each individual building. Otherwise, it sucked just as much as all of the others. Especially on hotter days.

Good thing today wasn’t one of them.

“Angie,” Marcellus huffed after a long unbroken silence.

Donnie looked up, puzzled. They were almost halfway through the day, and barely halfway through the neighbourhood. They hadn’t said a word to each other the entire time, and hardly any words to the homeowners, praise be. He hated when the homeowners kicked up conversation. He was getting tired. His head was spinning and his steps were less calculated than they were before. Slower, even. His chest hurt. He blinked a couple of times to try and clear his head. He wasn’t sure if it did much or not.

“What?”

Marc turned his attention over to Archie, and Donnie did the same. She was pressing her nose against the side of his leg, and when he didn’t make any moves to sit himself down, she  pulled herself back for enough momentum to boop her snout against him again in hopes he’d notice her warning. Of course. Right as they're getting to the midpoint.

“Explains a lot.”

Marcellus nudged him in the opposite direction of the driveway, toward the truck. “Go have a seat, Barbie, and let Ken handle this one.”

Donatello accidentally made a particularly nasty face out loud. “Would you shut the fuck up?”

Marcellus only scooted him away again. “And stop talking while you’re at it. You sound like shit.”

Of course. He’d hardly spoken enough for one day, and already, his voice was giving out on itself. He was weak. A waste of space. A waste of air. He was tired and tired of himself. Tired of this job, tired of Marcellus. All that he could think of on his way back to the truck was how much better things would be if he just…wasn’t here. He didn’t know where else he would go– where else he could go–but anywhere was better than here. He stumbled. Marcellus had said something, but Donnie didn’t catch it.

He was tired. He just wanted the day to be over already so that he could sleep…But then he’d have to do it all over again, huh?

Sleep…He wanted to sleep.

And as the world suddenly faded away from him and the ground came rushing forward, sleep is exactly what he got.

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“Don? Angel? Can you hear me?”

That was a muffled voice that Donnie knew better than he knew his own, and it slowly dragged him into a very hazy consciousness. His head was reeling. His chest still hurt. He peeled open his eyes to find that he was back at home, laid in bed, though not quite covered, with a very distressed-looking Shiloh sitting close at his side. Wasn’t he supposed to be at work? Was Wednesday just some elaborate and thorough dream? Er…nightmare. Nothing with Marcellus in it was a dream.

He tried to speak, but he struggled to make any sound above an airy groan. Irksome, as always.

“Save your voice,” Shiloh spoke in gentle whispers. They brushed their thumb across his head. “You fell out at work. I came as soon as I got the call.”

Donnie put his hands up in surrender before falling them back down into the blankets. And to think that he was doing so well up until this point. Almost a month without a collapse. Now he’d have to start back at zero.

Despite the strain that it posed, he forced a few words out of himself. “How long have I been lying here?” He sat himself up.

Karmello didn’t stop him. “About two hours, give or take?”

Two hours? He leaned over to tug the curtain aside for a second. It was dark out. Damn…He meant to stop at the store on his way home. It was his turn to cook dinner tonight, and the fridge was practically bare. There was no way that the market was still open. Takeout was a touch too expensive right now, but they couldn’t end the day hungry.

“What time…–” He took a breath. Damn this. He started to motion with his hands instead. ‘What time is it?’

“It’s only about 7 P.M.”

The store didn’t close until 8. He could make that if he left soon. He felt fine enough, aside from a raging headache and another ache here and there. But that didn’t come to him as anything new. Besides, they were dull. Shiloh shuffled off of the bed and onto their feet, pushing their dark, deflating hair back up to maintain its shape.

“You rest here, okay?” They softly requested. “I’m going to shower, and I���ll be right back.”

Donnie nodded. He’d be there and back before Shiloh was out. They usually took almost thirty minutes in the shower, and a few more just to dry off and get dressed. It was insane how one person could spend that much time in the bathroom. As soon as the officer was gone and the door clicked, Donatello hobbled his way upright and to the key-rack. Shit, he was still in his work clothes, minus the coat and the hat. He’d have to wash his linen again. Ugh.

Focus.

He pushed open the front door. Rain. He didn’t notice the white noise that was raindrops pelting the roof of their house until now. Now that he could actually see it. Inconveniencing. Looks like he’d be taking a shower of his own, too. He ran out to the car and hopped in as fast as he could to escape the weather before sticking the key in the ignition and starting it up. The windshield wipers were his first priority.

In, and out.

In, and out.

The car started forward. Donnie tried to avoid the deeper puddles along the road while he drove down the spiral. The last thing that he needed to end the day with was Shiloh yelling at him for getting the car stranded in the thunderstorm equivalent of a lake. Though, Shiloh wasn’t one to yell. Get to the store, get back home. Easy.

My head hurts…

God…

I can’t…see…

 Maybe he wasn’t as okay as he thought. The windshield looked so blurry to him, and the aches once fading from him were sinking their teeth back into his core all over again. He took a breath and swallowed down his unease. It wasn’t too late to turn back and burden somebody else with driving in this rain. He could find something cheap to have delivered, right? Most of the cost would go to the delivery fee…Yeah.

He’d forever be a stubborn sort of man. It always came back to bite him a few moments too late. He needed to pull over, but between the rain and the tunneling of his vision, he couldn’t very well see where the driving lane ended and the shoulder began. He couldn’t even call for help if he wanted to. Cars didn’t come with phones built into them, and he already passed the phone-booth at PointB of the descent. He didn’t tell Shiloh that he was leaving. Where he was going. An estimate of time to expect him back. He should’ve waited.

He tried to ease himself to the right and slow the vehicle, but the tires did not yield to the brake, instead spinning out of control against the water beneath them and causing the car to sway. Was he hitting the brake too hard? He couldn’t focus. Shit. Not now. Donatello fought to get everything under control, but the world was falling away from him. He couldn’t see the road. He could barely even see the lights on the dashboard.

What the hell was he thinking?

Something slammed against the hood and sent cracks up the windshield like a shockwave, but the sound of it tumbling over could not shake Angelo from his oncoming syncope. The car veered off and rattled uncontrollably, but for a moment of pure bliss, everything around him stopped moving. It was quiet, all except for the sparse pitter patter of rain that was once unrelenting. He felt weightless. Was it over? Maybe he already passed out. Maybe the car struck the side of the mountain and stopped itself, and somebody would come looking for him soon. He wondered where he was, but his slipping mind didn’t allow for much imagination to draw himself a picture.

It was so peaceful.

Everything was so light.

That was until the world shattered and buckled around him in a cacophony of chaos. The car alarm screamed out once or twice as its exterior sounded like it was being ripped away, and Donatello blipped out of existence and into a dark and dreary silence in almost an instant.

He didn’t feel anything.

He didn’t see anything.

It was quiet again, at last.

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But soon the ticking of a clock swelled into the silence.