"Sorry things had to end this way," said Gary Weinerspiegel.

He sat across from Jelli Blount at a classy restaurant in the middle of downtown. Her dingy jacket stood out against the white tablecloth and tasteful prints.

"And did you say your Creature was actually shot?" Gary added. "Wow. What is this world coming to? I really wonder sometimes."

Though free of emotion, he felt his face turn up in what must have looked like a smug grin.

"She was shot twenty-seven times," said Jelli.

"Wow. Twenty-seven. That's just incredible. Wow."

Gary turned away and looked at the monitors on the wall. They showed the Creatures of the restaurant's clientele being looked after while their owners ate. He saw one rotund little blue boy being massaged on a table, his tongue hanging out and eyes closed dreamily as a beefy masseuse worked what passed for tension out of his shoulders. Another monitor showed a red girl with a head shaped like a hot dog. She was covered in ice cream, laughing as a servant made a spoon swoop in like an airplane.

That's how I feel right now, he thought. Or at least, that's how I would feel, if the thing that feels for me wasn't off somewhere humping a fire hydrant. But I suppose knowing that things have worked out is enough. We can't be too greedy when it comes to the good things in life!

It was strange, but it wasn't so long ago that Gary had wanted to have Jelli killed. Now, seeing her sitting across from him, staring down at her salad with her arms hanging limp at her sides, he felt generous toward her. He wanted to put into words a pithy statement summing up what it was like to go after what you wanted, what it was like to take hold of the reins and steer your ship to better shores. How could he put that into words for her?

"It really is a shame that someone shot your Creature twenty-seven times," he said, smiling at her. "It's a shame because I feel like we might have gotten along."

"Mister Weinerspiegel. I understand you're trying to be nice. But just because I don't feel, doesn't mean I don't care."

"I'm sorry - what was that?" He hadn't expected her to speak, and had been daydreaming about Ariana Porquetuist-Pimperneal, wondering what others would think of them standing side-by-side, their Creatures on the front page of Creature Feature magazine, their child destined for the Ivy League, perhaps, or…

Jelli leaned forward. "Mister Weinerspiegel, I was saying that you're being more cruel than you know. I'm not stupid. Your civil tone, your small gestures of kindness… it's incredibly condescending."

"Am I being condescending?"

"Yes. Mister Weinerspiegel… Gary. They may have pulled a Creature out of you, but deep down, people like you have something far more beastly. There's a thing lying in a deep black pit inside of you. It controls you, and you walk over others, and I doubt you even know it. As you make the world more comfortable for yourself, like a cozy little nest, you turn it into a dump for everyone else."

Gary took a sip of water. The ice suddenly settled, causing water to dribble down his chin. He felt an unexpected flash of annoyance. "Maybe I've been too amiable with you. I'm not stupid either, Miss Blount. I know what's inside of me. Don't try to educate me on who I am. Alright? Now, I think that will be all. Goodbye, Miss Blount."

Jelli immediately stood and walked out. Though he was glad the affair was over, he found it difficult to smile. His phone chimed, and he picked it up without even checking the name.

"Gary. Gary. Something terrible has happened."

A woman's voice, flat, without emotion. He pulled the phone away and glanced at the name.

"Ariana!" he said. "What is it?"

"Gary… you know, our… our Creatures have been seeing one another…"

"They - they were?!"

"I assumed you knew. And I think mine may have been impregnated. By yours. But Gary… someone murdered my Creature."

"Your Creature?!"

"Murdered! They shot it, Gary. They shot her twenty-seven times."

Strangely enough, the entire restaurant gasped as if they could hear his private phone call. Gary looked up, and saw that every monitor on the wall showed a dead Creature lying in a field. The image zoomed in on a lurid display of the Creature's face, its little cheeks puckered, its dull eyes looking sad.

Gary's mind reeled. That was Ariana Porquetuist-Pimperneal's Creature! he thought, horrified. That wasn't Jelli's Creature… I killed the Creature of the mother of my child!

He rose and tried to run to the door to catch Jelli, but his legs wobbled and he crashed against the table. He was surrounded by people with dull expressions, their mouths hanging slack, heads turning from the monitors showing a dead Creature to the man walking out with his legs jerking awkwardly. He stared at the exit, forcing himself not to turn and look at the poor Creature murdered by the progenitor of the father of the child it carried.

He stumbled onto the street and stopped himself from falling down the stairs. The street was crowded with people. Their blank faces were mere masks, their dead eyes unable to see him or care about his plight. They had no idea of the nightmare that he was trapped in. Then he saw her. Jelli Blount - though that was probably not her real name - stood across the street. She was looking back at him, smiling so wide that her teeth gleamed at him, her eyes little diamonds of predatory cruelty. Her hands were in her pockets. Her posture and body language had changed into something… human.

She doesn't even have a Creature, Gary thought. She never had her Creature pulled out of her! It's still inside of her, completely intact! She's some kind of terrorist, a rebel lashing out at those who no longer feel!

A car came to a shrieking stop before her, and she stepped toward it. Through an open window, Gary saw Agent "Buddy" Bishop staring at him, his face cold and devoid of emotion.

Bastard! thought Gary. That traitor hacked our files, and made it seem like Ariana's Creature belonged to Jelli!

Next to Buddy sat his Creature, a wild-looking yellow freak that banged on the dashboard as if drumming in a concert. Jelli threw herself into the backseat, waved goodbye to Gary Weinerspiegel, and the car drove away while the manic Creature riding shotgun drummed a violent song without melody or tempo or meaning of any kind.

That stupid song of betrayal, Gary decided, was now the soundtrack of his life.