Gillette was off to a bad start before she was even born. Her heavily pregnant mother was dozing in front of the TV, no more aware of the child inside her than the inanities being played out on the screen, when an advertisement for razors began. The brand name “Gillette” sliced its way through a haze of medication and left an indelible mark on her brain. She liked the sound of it so much she gave it to her newborn daughter.
Gillette’s mother found the business of caring for a child too stressful. As soon as she had the chance she sold Gillette to a drunken brute and declared her daughter “lost.” Gillette’s new custodian locked her in an underground basement and set her to work making novelty badges. Her only friend throughout this time was Rags, a rabbit she made from scraps of cloth.
As Gillette grew older the brute drank more and found new ways to abuse her; on the worst nights of all he quoted the tagline “Gillette: The best a man can get.” She often cried herself to sleep, clutching Rags like an ineffectual charm against everything that was wrong with the world – until the night Rags spoke to her.
“You have given me life through your love,” he said, “and I can end your pain forever.”
Gillette wiped her tears away. “What do I have to do?” she asked.
“Take three pins,” said Rags, “and stick them in me.”
Gillette was shocked. “But won’t that hurt?”
“It won’t hurt me,” Rags assured her, “though I know it will hurt you. But this sacrifice is necessary. If you do as I say, you will be free.”
Having nothing to lose, Gillette rose from her bed and took three pins from the workbench. When she thrust the first one into Rags the entire basement trembled. When the second pin pierced him the stone floor cracked and disgorged piles of ash and bone. When Gillette thrust the third pin into Rags a pale glow emerged from the chasm that had opened underfoot – and out climbed hordes of giant rabbits with purple fur and fiery eyes.
“What’s going on here?” roared the brute, who had appeared on the stairs. Without a word the rabbits rushed forward, brandishing old cutlery, carrots carved from stone, and farm tools. By the time they were done, there was nothing left of Gillette’s cruel custodian but a red smear on the floor.
She turned back to Rags. “What now?” she asked.
“Now we leave this world,” said Rags. Gillette needed no more prompting; she picked him up and followed the rabbits back into the pit they had come from. When she removed the pins from his body the basement floor closed overhead; and since that day she has happily lived in the lands beyond the world, where good food grows on every tree and all the channels on TV run nothing but cartoons all day. She will live there happily forever, but Rags sometimes shows himself to those who still suffer in this world and offers them the same revenge.