Jay:
I wake with such a headache, and a bit of a memory-blank, not going to lie. I thought I was enjoying myself last night, and I'm sure I did for a bit but then all I remember is people shouting and being sad. You can store up a whole lot of sad when you're big like I am.
"You're not big," Robin says, rolling over and towards me in our giant and wonderful hotel bed.
"I didn't say I was," I'm annoyed at the assumption.
"You didn't need to," Robin says, kissing me. "You know us Little Leaves can always hear the whisper of another."
"Yeah I just never believed it,"
"Believe what you want! Are you ready for the good and bad news?!"
Robin is excited, jovial almost, which means a hangover is being hidden, buried far deeper than mine, which threatens to erupt out of my face and onto Robin, the bed, and the rest of the hotel room. I can't cope with bad news right now thanks very much.
"Good please."
"We passed the Wrath challenge. Fox didn't, but he's not part of it like we are. So that's good right?"
"Undeniably. He's…kind,"
"Yes he is," Robin snaps, too quickly.
"And the bad news?"
"Well, seeing as we passed the second challenge and I was the one who came up with it…the next one is on you, babe!"
No way.
I'm more of a supporting character. An extra. Can I lead?...
"How long do I have?" I ask Robin, not even at all up to the challenge.
"As long as I did, which is to say no time at all. Ferret is already printing the new terms and conditions for us – what, he came by earlier, you were still passed out! – and we'll have to do it right here in New York. Which sin do you choose?"
My stomach grumbles, answering the question for at least one of us.
"Gluttony, please Robin," I say, flattening myself back into bed for another moment.
"By the way," I manage, just before I have to jump out of the bed and into the bathroom to be sick.
"Those lyrics you gave Badger, Robin. What a gift, you're so talented, hrrgh-"
***
Robin:
Gluttony?
I was not expecting that. Jay feels more like a Pride kind of person to me…but we'll get to that. Perhaps it is the hangover talking.
With an unlimited budget and all of New York at our disposal, I expect we're about to get gluttonous indeed, but how does one overcome gluttony? Is it to simply not overindulge? This should be a walk in the park, but perhaps I've forgotten what gluttony really means.
Whilst Jay sleeps off the vomiting fit, I carefully retrieve my black Bible with its torn pages from my bag of stuff and seek answers within. In this context, I guess gluttony is a sort of trigger sin that can lead to greed and pride, especially if someone is being deliberately gluttonous.
The few pages I manage to find mention of it, for Bibles are without glossaries, typically use it as a descriptive insult, often hand in hand with drunkenness. Are we gluttons and drunks? I look at Jay's half-naked body, booze-filled saliva puddle on the pillow and can smell nightclub on our skin.
I immediately want to shower, feeling sinful and ashamed. Is shame a sin? Oh man, it should be, I'd be going straight to hell…we'll have to look at seeing if we can't come up with some new ones.
Jay's eyes open and see me holding the Bible, so I quickly put it away, feeling self-conscious and exposed. I excuse myself to go shower and wonder how I'm going to pass another challenge that I know little about and don't really understand.
Maybe that's why it's such a good challenge, and we've been given this opportunity; to figure it out together.
***
Jay:
God I feel awful, a bit like my blood is on fire. I totally overdid it last night and today I will pay the price. I think I had a good time, but honestly who knows at this point. Weirdly, I feel like I should have drank less and Robin more, which I never thought would happen.
I vaguely remember being told I had to do the next challenge, and choosing gluttony. My understanding of it is probably different to Robin's, but doesn't it just mean massively overindulging in food and drink? That being said, I don't think I ate much last night, and my stomach is growling.
As Robin emerges from the shower, looking much better than I feel, an invasive and outright rude question comes out of my mouth before I can stop it.
"Do you drink, like, on your own…?"
Robin pauses, more from shock than whether deciding to lie I think, before giving the answer.
"Yes, of course, all the time."
"But like, to excess?"
"Yes, often." The honesty on display here is impressive, and I admire it the way I admire Robin's body. As a tall, skinny beanpole, I've never been able to have what looks like healthy – but also sexy – weight, whilst Robin is fuller than I am, in every way.
My eyes return above the neck but I haven't exactly been subtle.
"Well," I say, trying to lighten the mood, "now you can do it with me! I can't believe it's past midday, I'm getting dressed and we are going OUT out!"
***
Robin:
You won't believe it. I certainly didn't when Jay told me what the grand plan is for the Gluttony challenge.
I feel sick just thinking about it. Remarkable how our gluttony disappears the second we examine it, like a ghost that prefers to lurk in the periphery.
It's too late to back out now: Jay has posted it to both of our growing followings – that's around 100 million combined so far - and Ferret will surely reshare to the now 2 billion strong Whispersong audience.
We're going to a public hot dog eating competition… I always thought things like this were just jokes, but no, the Yanks take this stuff pretty seriously.
"Don't worry," a slightly fresher version of Jay tells me as we get into one of the many yellow cabs that seems to always be waiting outside our hotel.
"I've planned something special, just for us two, that Whispersong and the Little Leaves don't know about that we can do beforehand. Here, put these on." Removing them from a backpack I hadn't noticed until now – and is that a hipflask I spot inside it?! – Jay hands me a baseball cap and some sunglasses. I like this mischievous side I'm seeing, and am fully on board with it.
"First, we'll hit some Irish pubs for a few million pints, before moving on to some American bars for chicken wings – I know you love those – before we hit the hot dog eating competition where the band will meet us and play whilst we compete in front of thousands of Little Leaves and Frowners alike."
Instead of telling Jay how much I love this plan, I lean forward for a kiss instead, and we enjoy a few seconds of breathlessness when time seems to slow down before the drivers coughs, reminding us of his presence and the need for instructions.
Jay takes over, whilst I lean back and shut my eyes, feeling a little worse for wear myself.
***
Jay:
The first pub is not exactly my cup of tea and the table is sticky, but Robin seems to be enjoying the cheery music, child atmosphere and good vibes. There's even a jukebox, which we spend a good deal of time examining whilst we drink cool pints of lager and talk.
"I would like to overindulge feasting on you," I whisper in Robin's ear, and the response I get is non-verbal as I cringe at my words but take pride in my actions.
We talk about what Robin writes, whether I'm missing work – and I must say I am a bit – and everything else apart from the challenge, and it feels like the first real moment of downtime we've had since this whole crazy journey started.
I love Robin and I love my new life, but that doesn't mean I don't look back at the comfort and familiarity of the past with a new fondness because I am finding myself doing that a lot. I want to get back to London soon.
"Did your Bible tell you anything about gluttony?" I ask Robin when there's a lull in the convo.
When there's no reply, I apologise even though I'm not sure why it's so awkward, but I decide to push on rather than backpedal.
"You don't like talking about it because it reminds you of your parents, right? I get it, but you can share your belief with me you know. I'm interested and want to hear your thoughts about it. And it's like, SUPER relevant to our lives right now…you don't need to hide it."
Robin smiles but it is a confusing smile, probably for both of us.
Eventually, the words come, and I understand why they were unspoken.
"I don't have any answers," Robin tells me.
"That's ok, I'm not looking for any, we can just ask better questions and let's do it together. Look watch this, excuse me sir! Please may we have two more beers?!"
***
Robin:
Day drinking is the absolute best, but it's especially great with Jay, who can hold a surprising amount of beer without needing to pee.
Whatever we were doing before, getting pissed, eating too much crap food for the sake of it. Gorging, binging, whatever you want to call it. That was gluttony, what we have now? This, this is something else.
Jay brings a temperance into every situation that, whilst not Robin-proof, helps to put the emphasis on community, company and consuming for enjoyment and nourishment instead of for the sake of it.
I'm going to ask for help to become that tempered, responsible and just kind. There's a charitable nature to a soul like that, and sadly I don't think mine could be described in that way just yet. I need to take some steps on this journey, and overcoming the lonely writer's alcoholism might be one of the most important ones, for me and for Jay.
We move arm in arm down a boulevard full of places like the Irish pub, having an amazing time and eating only what we need to line our stomachs for the booze. No spirits this time, just light, watery American lager that I could drink for days.
Jay has returned from the edge of death by hangover to have a great day with me, but we're both beginning to acknowledge that it's approaching time to head to the venue – an underground station of all places with a wide lobby that could hold thousands of people – and begin the challenge. Neither of us have said we don't want to do it, but I suspect we're both thinking it.
We decide to get the subway there so we can check out details about the event on the way and see how many people we're expecting. There are over 200 people due to eat a heinous amount of low-quality hot dogs in buns – mercifully sauces will be offered – and a whopping 4600+ interested in attending the event on the social post.
The prize is for $1000 in cash, and based on how much we've been paying for the beers and tips, people will be needing a little extra help. It's just a shame only one person can win it.
"If you can eat as many hot dogs as you can drink beers, you just might win this competition,"
"I could say the same thing to you!"
We laugh together, drawing the looks of some especially grumpy-looking Frowners in the subway carriage with us, but there are a few people wearing that familiar green who smile. One even waves; people are starting to recognise who we are now we've taken off our caps and sunglasses and are on the way to the event.
The band are already there, setting up, and I wonder if Badger will have any wisdom on the mortal sin of Gluttony. I don't have to wait long to find out, as when we arrive he's at a little nurses tent that has been set up – turns out he is a qualified first aider – in anticipation of possible heart attacks.
Then it downs on me, Gluttony can be considered a mortal sin because it can straight up kill you, and people may or may not be conscious of that.
"Do enjoy yourselves but be careful, everyone," Badger is saying to the crowd before turning to greet us both with a hug and a slightly uncomfortable kiss on the cheek.
"Great idea this, Jay, we've got an opportunity to talk to people here about not only consumption but what it means to share a meal with others. Jesus would have many things to say about this, but he isn't here, so maybe we can pitch in eh Robin?" He says, winking at me.
"Well, I do a couple ideas," I say, beaming at him whilst Jay ponders.
***
Jay:
I've never seen an underground – sorry, subway – station turned into a function room before. In London, everyone's trying to get out, not in.
Rows of trellis tables have been set up in front of a makeshift stage. Enough to seat the 200 of us who are about to gorge themselves to near-death on hot dogs. What must be gallons of sauce, poured into bowls, are set out next to plastic plates, recyclable cardboard cutlery and cups for water and stacks of buns line the edges of the tables.
I have no idea where the meat will come from, if meat is an accurate word to describe what we'll be consuming. My stomach churns a bit when Badger tells me, doing that mind-reading thing he does again, that all the sausages are "delicious" plant-based alternative meats and I hope they're as good as the Linda McCartney ones back home, but expect that they won't be…
Robin didn't hear what he said, busy gawping at the thousands of people milling about ready to watch something as silly as what we're about to do, though in their defence, they'll also get to listen to Whispersong, and few of the two billion have had a chance to do so yet.
"I hate mustard," I can hear Robin murmuring. "And mayonnaise. Eugh, rank. Where's the fucking KETC- oh here it is."
Adorable.
The volume levels are rising as is the temperature as once more a sea of green-clothed people of all different shapes, sizes and experiences crowd into the surprisingly spacious venue. The band head off to tune up after wishing us "luck" in the competition and I feel that luck is no virtue in this moment.
"Should have brought some beers with us this place is dryyyyyyyyyyyyyy," Robin is saying quietly, lifting plates and looking underneath them as if there might be some hidden stash below.
"No booze, Robin!" Badger calls from the stage, "This event is for all ages and there's no bar but beers on me when we're finished, it's only an hour."
I motion Robin over with a gesture to my backpack, and we enjoy a sneaky nip of vodka each when we think nobody is looking. There are many people looking. Interestingly, at least to me, nobody has come to speak to us yet or introduce themselves. It doesn't seem to bother Robin, but I hope we might make some friends of other Little Leaves one day.
I don't need friends, I just want them. All I need is Robin.
***
Robin:
I need the bathroom I feel sick. Is there not one down here?! Jay's vodka is not sitting right on top of the beer and chicken wings in my rapidly growing belly. I could eat though. I could always eat.
The other contestants are starting to mill through, and most of them are wearing Little Leaf green. I try to introduce myself and shake hands with one but I burp as I speak and then start giggling so they just walk off. Whoopsie. Hope Jay didn't notice my lack of decorum.
I slump into a seat, and wonder how long it'll be until this shindig starts.
"Twenty!" I shout out at the people around me, "I'm going to eat 20!".
An extremely large person jokes about remembering their first time, and we all have a laugh. Jay comes to sit next to me and our fingers lace together under the table whilst we look sleepily, dreamily at each other, coming down from the high of only sharing each other with each other, not three thousand other people.
"I could eat," Jay says, stomach growling.
The rest of the competitors are taking their seats in what I'm going to refer to as the banquet hall from now on, and Badger is MCing because of course he is, thanking everyone for coming to take part and enjoy a moment of eating and listening with like-minded individuals, Little Leaf or no.
He invokes the spirit of thanksgiving and being grateful, and it makes me feel a little uneasy because this doesn't seem like the best place or the best way to help people this feels like a parade, a celebration of Gluttony.
Already people are pointing at the previous year's winner, who is still wearing the little fake golden medal proudly, and there's a grotesquery to eating as a status symbol that makes me feel truly nauseas.
When volunteers start to bring out the hot sausages from whatever hidden magic cauldron has been heating them, I don't even want to look at them. They look kind of green? Whatever, I'm still going to eat a bunch of them and hate myself.
Jay is watching me make a face, and when I notice, makes one back, before we both turn to watch Badger announce the rules. In a nutshell, this is an hour long event. In the first half the competitors must eat as many hot dogs as they can whilst the band plays, and in the second half the volunteers will count the individual scores and identify the winner, who will receive the prize money, but also Whispersong will match the amount with a donation to the nearest charity.
"Are y'all ready?" Badger says, having donned his full headdress and strumming away at his beautiful acoustic, giving me a pang of guilt as I've not even tuned my one yet. Fox smashes out a drum riff, and Stoat counts the band in.
"3, 2, 1… EAT!" they roar into the mic, exploding into their debut album as 198 eaters smash multiple dogs at a time into their mouths. It takes a few horrified seconds before me and Jay even pick one up, and by the time I've finished my first – it was surprisingly average – people around us have done four or five.
"Here! Thif'fle help" Jay mumbles through a mouthful of green, red and yellow, pouring what remains of the vodka into our little cups and winking at me. We use it to wash down our third and forth dogs, but at this point our hearts aren't really in it and others are miles ahead.
There's a chorus of burping and indeed a few chunders happening around us, but thankfully nobody has fallen out of their seat yet and the atmosphere seems to be high. The crowd are cheering and weirdly more enthusiastic than the eating and the music, but I can also hear cheers of "Whispersong fucking rock!" and, to my surprise "Robin&JayTour!" which brings enormous smiles to our faces.
Were we to check our phones, we'd surely see those follower counts steadily rising. The band points out that 15 minutes has passed, and there's plenty of food left. My chest is already heaving and my eyeballs feel like pressure is building behind them. I've only managed six of these charlatan sausages and I'm about to tap out. I glance over at Jay, who appears to have unlatched the lower jaw and is simply pushing a ninth in. It's fascinating and terrifying to watch, one of those slow car crash kind of moments where you can't look away, and all I can think about is how glad I am we're sharing this.
Then I think about the dead woman in the park and it pulls me right out of the moment and back into the real world of Gluttony and Sin. I wobble, and manage to stylishly fall out of my chair, immediately disqualifying myself from the rest of the competition and making my way up to the stage, keeping by the left side where Ferret is playing lead guitar sat on an amp like normal, face hidden under his headdress' visage.
"Robin?" he asks, pushing a mic away from his mouth with his shoulder in an expert and practiced move.
"WTF are you doing? We're in the middle of this and people are watching." He hisses, gesturing towards the thousands of people who are witness to my tiny stage invasion.
"You do the accounting and band management for Whispersong right? How much money do you have in the account that you've got access to yourself?"
"You're kidding right? Now is not the time for this!"
"I'm serious just tell me."
"…hundreds of millions of dollars." He says, not missing a beat on his smooth, jet black electric guitar, but wearing an expression that suggests to me he feels like they don't deserve it.
"And as part of the challenge, by extension, we have access to some of that money too right?"
His eyes light up as he realises the load might be about to lighten.
"Right," he confirms.
"Good, tell Badger to invite me up to the stage to announce the winner. I'm taking over from Jay."
***
Jay:
I can be just as stubborn as Robin, and I stayed put. I'm on my fourteenth goddamn faux-sausage and I'm crying on the inside but I'll be damned if I don't finish it.
Some chap on the same table reckons he's had thirty, and I wonder how they intend to prove any of this. It could be a total fix and nobody would be any the wiser. We're giving people the benefit of the doubt here man, and come to think of it, this might be number thirteen…
Robin slides back into the seat next to me.
"I don't want to know," I say, meaning it. "I am focussing on remaining conscious enough to live to never eat another vegetarian sausage again!"
"I knew there was something up with these sausages…" Robin says, having adopted the nervous twitch again. Something is coming, and rather than let the mystery of it drive me mad, I just roll with it now.
I can hear my heart beating in my mouth, is that normal? It can't be normal, I think about calling a nurse as the band winds down their last song, the slowest ballad on the album and Badger's lyrics and soothing voice fail to calm the panic of my potentially-clogged arteries.
"Everybody stop eating! That's it for another year y'all. Now we'll just need a hot minute to get everybody's numbers and whilst our volunteers help with that, I'd like to invite my friend Robin up to the stage if you don't mind."
I knew something was up with that disappearing act. Far more suspect than the sausages.
"Y'all may know Robin as one half of our first ever Official Whispersong Little Leaf Representatives – Ferret we're gonna need a better name than that – along with Jay, and something of a writer musician, hopefully we'll hear some of that some day soon, but for now, Robin will help me announce our winner."
A volunteer runs up with an envelope that contains a card in it. Badger retrieves the card with a "Holy hell" as he reads it: someone called Joey has eaten 63 of the saucy sausage and bun combos and is already standing up, ready to accept victory.
"And the winner is-" Badger begins.
***
Robin:
"Everybody!" I shout, forcing my face past his to the mic and projecting as much as I can – possibly too much – into it.
"You all win, not just those who entered the competition, but all of you. Even those just watching. All of you will get $1000 each." I pause for effect, something I learned from Badger. "On one condition."
Badger doesn't know my plan, but he's letting me speak without interrupting which I appreciate, and leans forward with interest.
"Those of you that accept this gift must all also give a gift! I want all of you to volunteer to help us take the rest of these dogs out of this subway station and to a nearby park where we met some homeless people recently. I understand there are a lot of them here in New York. Please help us feed them tonight both there and on your way home."
There's a moment of absolute silence and calm, before first one, then two, then six thousand hands begin to clap and cheer and light up with feeling.
"We'll do it Robin!"
"You're a legend Robin!"
"Thank you Robin!"
I look down from where I am on the stage to where Jay remains sat even as the others get up and start to pick up the leftovers, and think there's something just less than happiness in the eyes looking at me, so I grab the mic again and shout:
"Whispersong Robin&JayTour!"
But it's too late, nobody can hear me.