[MA]

This is the first short story from the Rupture Farms Short Stories collection.

ODDWORLD: HOUSE OF ANGUISH
SHORT STORIES ORIGINATING FROM RUPTURE FARMS

PROLOGUE

Rupture Farms is an unpleasant place to say the least, and is, as everyone knows, the biggest and most dangerous meat-packing plant on Oddworld. Many mudokons work there, and many are replaced through death. Many sligs also work their, and like the mudokons, are also replaced through death, or serious injury. These are just a few true stories originating from the workers of Rupture Farms, pieced together by eye witness accounts, hard evidence and spoken stories.

hope you enjoy it.

JOE’S IDEA

“Many people, mudokons and sligs alike, hate me. I envy them because the only person I hate is myself.” – Joe.

Joe was scrubbing the floor with a filthy cloth that he had been using to scrub the floor with for the last two years. Not as long as Joe had been living in Rupture Farms, but still, long enough, hygienically. He was crouched on the seventh walkway up in the mincing section of Rupture Farms. The noise was rhythmical, and loud, and in a way could send you to sleep. Many sligs practised this, and so had many mudokons, but with the consequences later paid.

The mincing section consisted of a number of giant, iron circular saws attached to slender metal arms that ripped out the innards and unwanted, quivering lumps of meat and cartilage between the ribs of scrabs that moved along a conveyor belt. The ribs were being prepared for packaging and the innards and unwanted meat and cartilage was to be minced up and reformed as mince and pet food.

“Hey! You slackin’?” A passing slig barked at Joe without stopping walking, holding his rifle slack in his hands.

“No sir.” Joe replied nervously, and relaxed when the slig disappeared from view behind him, down a ladder to walkway six.

Joe resumed scrubbing. Scrubbing a dried on bloodstain on the steel plates of the walkway. Either meat, or murder. He dunked his cloth into the bucket of cold water that sat beside him and looked at his reflection on the rippling surface when he pulled the cloth back out, dripping water onto his knees.

He looked at his dirty face and pondered what it would be like to have a hot bath. He had never had a bath in his life, apart from being drenched annually by the orders of Rupture Farms glukkons when the time came.

“How you doin’ Joe?” A mudokon voice said.

Joe looked up and saw his friend standing before him, carrying a metal bucket of water and a black sponge that was originally yellow.

“Hey Crob, how are ya’?” Joe chirped, enlightened from the dull and dank work of Rupture Farms by this new event.

“Not bad, not bad. You mind if I work with you? I’ve done that burn on the wall down on walkway four. Needs re-plasterin’. Told a slig about it and he thought I meant the type of plaster you put on a cut! Dumb bastard.” Crob informed, then smirking at the stupidity of the slig he had spoken to.

“Heh heh, tell me about it. I don’t mind, could do with the company.” Joe replied.

Crob knelt down and dipped his sponge in the bucket of water. He then began to scrub the same bloodstain Joe was scrubbing. Joe flung his cloth onto the steel floor.

“How the fuck do they expect us to keep this place clean if they don’t even supply us with soapy water?!” Joe exclaimed suddenly, frustrated at the fact he’d been scrubbing the same stain for an hour and a half.

He rubbed his head.

“Calm down, Joe. We’ll be back at the hole before you know it, relaxing.” Crob said calmly.

“Yeah well,” Joe answered, “I’m getting a bit pissed off with Relb. Thinks he’s some big shot, always going on about who he’s smacked, which sligs he’s snuck past.”

Joe looked at the stain, part of it had been scrubbed off, but most of it remained. He felt like he was going to lose it.

“Yeah, but he’s the one that gets most of the fags and booze, if he can get his hands on any.” Crob counteracted. He started scrubbing again as if Joe’s opinions were trivial.

Joe thought about just exploding in his face. Grabbing the bucket and knocking out the first slig he saw. He didn’t care if he got shot, not at the moment anyway. He sighed and continued his work.