"Fixate, sir. Lance Corporal Lee requests permission to speak freely." "Converse then, infidel. What critique or inquisition could you possibly want to impose on us?" "I-I just wanted to find out why you killed that arctic kit, Timothy Freeze. Sir, he-" "Do you descry our verdict suspicious, vile heathen? How asinine for you to even insinuate such a thing. That trifling maggot's kismet was hermetically sealed from his mere conception. More so than the remainder of those copious auxiliary parasites of your social milieu." "B-But, sir. He was still just a young fur. He-" "Legitimate enough, infidel, but utterly irrelevant. No ephemeral organism is by any contingency too callow to encounter expiration, furthermore, considering that you have once again enumerated that arduous certitude, there is an indisputable immoderation of those inferior grubs on your subsidiary terrestrial sphere." **Echoing snap** "Is there any additional quandaries you would invoke us to amend. Infidel." "*gasp* N-no. No, sir... *sigh*... It's just... Sir, you che, changed his fate. He wasn't-" "Cheated? Cheated?! Wahahahaha! Do you stake a provocation to us NOW, infidel?! You possessed the regimentation of consequences erstwhile, you daftly inadequate vulpine, and you permitted it to pervade your inanely blunt paws. How moronic of you to even contemplate alleging those futile amputations to be fingers. We rendered a courtesy to your inutile orb." "You tricked me sir." "We succored you merely on account of your groveling for our tutelage. Reminisce that, infidel? We bestowed it with a terminus, as you requisitioned. Nothing more." "Damn you, Fixate! That's not-" *Echoing snap* "*YIPE*!" "Were you asserting something, heathenish worm?" "*grrrrr yip yip. Yerf, cough cough, errr.... Whimper whimper*" "Timothy is extinct, infidel, so as is this subjacent realm of yours. We have grown apathetic of your moronic parable of affection. We are through with the altercation of your esteemed Timothy's anecdotes, and with you. You are dismissed, infidel." "*whimper whimper*... *yerf, cough hack hack, grrrr*" "You are DISMISSED, vile heathen. Extract your psoriatic pelt from my apprehension!" "*grrrrRRR*Ahh! Damn you, Fixate! Why?! I made you! I!-" "Ooo, you deteriorated my retention of your intellect. We are impressed, and once again, your discord is rectified. Congratulations on surpassing yourself, infidel. Now, dismiss yourself from our propinquity or anticipate the allocation of an additional four years in limbo." "... Dismissed, aye sir, but Timothy's story isn't over yet. It will have a happy ending. Somehow. Some way." "This stratagem of yours becomes advancingly dilapidated, infidel. Hmmm, but we are indefatigable. Your nugatory philosophy is but a transitory caprice. It has an ineluctable cessation, because you are impuissant and impetuous. Yes. Carry on, infidel. Fabricate your absurd yarn." "Aye, sir. Thank you, sir." "Please be wrong. For once in eternity, please let that ungawdly opossum be wrong..." ************************************************* Sin City 2000 narrated by Timothy Freeze by Todd M. Little a.k.a. Fixate >:3= Type 8: The Other White Meat-eater Part 1: Meaty Virginia They say that at the moment of death, your entire life flashes before your eyes. I guess that means I’m not really dead yet, because instead, Gawd just decided to change the channel. *shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh*it. "Excuse me, ma'am. We do not serve furs on our menus", a snobbish male voice cut in from behind a small line of furs. "But-", the big and tall she-wolf started with a painful grimace the second she found herself pointed out as she walked through the grand restaurant's double doors with a velvety, light brown violin case in her left hand. "Ma’am. The sign outside clearly states that we do not serve furs of any kind on our menus", the well-dressed and handsomely groomed golden retriever at the door reiterated as he left his pedestal and starting walking down the line of waiting customers to deter this rather large pred before her presence drove away any customers. "I know", the seven foot plus tall, three hundred twenty pound, white headfurred, hybrid she-wolf sighed deeply, her road weary, forest green eyes showing that she'd had to deal with this many, many times before, but had no alternatives at the moment. If you didn't look at her when she was lumbering in, you'd think she might have been a Clydesdale from the sound her unnatural, rust-colored, snake skin shitkickers made on the restaurant's hard waxed wooden floor. Once completely inside, she respectfully removed her mahogany-colored leather cowboy hat and let it swing back and forth in her right hand. When she stopped a few feet from the entrance, she set the violin case down, dropped her hat gently down on top of it, and rested her weight on the heels of her tasseled boots, dropping more than a foot in height, but still one of the tallest furs in the restaurant. "All I want is regular food, you narrow-minded little doggy. Seasoned and spiced and cooked well done like only a-", she tried to explain, the emerald ring on her left hand slashing green arcs in the air between them. "But, um, ma'am. You are a-", the host questioned, this situation being very out of the ordinary. Reigning Katz and Dawgz was, well, a high class establishment for cats and dogs. The finicky domesticated few. Not for- "A wolf. Yes. I know. I know. I am very much aware of what I am and what I am suppose to like and act like," the she-wolf huffed and puffed, very much annoyed by the direction this always took, "but I do not and will not do those things, little doggy. Just take my word for it. I am not that kind of canine." If she'd stayed home and gotten a delivery, the most she'd get as far as speculation went was a raised eyebrow when they saw her the first time and then know-it-all grins or scowls when they delivered to her again and again. More or less, they all thought she was fattening up her unseen meals. If she went through a drive-through, they'd look for the meals they thought the food was supposedly for, raise an eyebrow when they saw she didn't have any, and when they finally did take the money, they'd take forever to prepare their minuscule mega meals. Sometimes she did lie and say that the "prey" was back at the house, but rarely did that ever get them to move any faster. And then there were these dine-in restaurants... “Ma’am. It is against our policy to-”, the golden retriever started again, trying to refrain from huffing and puffing over this supposedly easy circumstance. There were set rules, Gawd damn it. Why couldn't this pred see that? Letting her in would bring chaos. Worse yet, maybe even get him fired. The she-wolf slammed the pads of her hands on the host's pedestal, leaned towards him so that they were almost nose to nose, and growled as her stomach did, "All I want, you accursed little dog, is a decent meal. Get it? I am famished and, for your information, fur makes me very sick. Okay? Do you really think I enjoy listening to all your bickering about my species?" What would usually be a good come on to a normal wolf, this one just groaned whenever some pred asked her if she knew of a good place to eat furs. Then, when they found out that she wasn't into that kind of stuff, especially at her size, they'd leave and avoid her like she had some contagious disease. If she’d had a little bit more willpower and a little bit less moral, she'd tie those furs on a spit and barbecue them for their ignorance. A twisted smile momentarily emerged on the she-wolf's maw as she reflected on how a cubhood friend of hers had done just that for her more than a couple times, before she had become allergic to furs. To the she-wolf's horror, this free-spirited herm vixen demonstrated to her numerous times how she could pelt and run that giant metal spike through any fur of hir choosing from muzzle to tail and have them turning over the fire minutes before death could finally take them. The looks in those furs eyes as their bodies refused to let them die a peaceful death, even as blood bubbled out of their mouths and their fur scorched and burned into their hides, was one of the biggest reasons why this wolf wouldn't and couldn't eat anything that even resembled a live fur. Out of friendship and so that it wasn't a complete waste of a life, she had always eaten those furs, but it always resulted in an upset stomach and nightmares afterwards. "What seems to be the problem here?", another dog, a broad-chested german shepherd, asked as he charged in via rumor of a disturbance. "And who are you?”, the she-wolf snapped, making the two employees jump backwards. It would have been all too easy for this she-wolf to just bite both of these dog's heads off and be on her way, and if she had been inclined, she could have just as easily swallowed don any of the cats or dogs here in just a few gulps. She was unmistakably built for that kind of stuff, but she didn't. Thanks to her cubhood companion, her stomach wouldn't allow her to, despite its eager growling otherwise. So, with a heavy and meditative sigh, she adjusted her gold rimmed, rose tinted glasses, looked the new dog over, and then grimaced as she read his name tag. "The problem here, my little alpha dog, is that I am a very hungry wolf with a taste for fancy domestic entrées", the she-wolf commented with her hands on her hips as she bounced on the toes of her boots like a kangaroo and impatiently swished her tail, "and I do not mean your employees." "*hmmm* Well now. Is that right?", the manager replied with a raised brow, but asked, "Are you sure you are going to be able to pay for this, ma'am? You, after all, are pretty big, even for a wolf, and the food here is not cheap. I will graciously tell you that much up front." "Ooo yeah, my darling little doggy, if that is all you are worried about, then yes. Yes, I can pay for as much as you are willing to give me.... Ooo yeah, and how about this, my gracious little host? If it will calm your fine establishment down more, and you sedate my eager stomach, I will double yours, as well as your employees’ earnings for today. Just for the hell of it", the she-wolf challenged as she pulled her wallet from her left boot, pulled out her limitless credit card, and handed it to the manager. The sparkle in the german shepherd's eyes and the twisted smile on his muzzle blatantly told the tall she-wolf that he was going to see just how hungry of a wolf she really was. To her, furs like him were much too few and far between, and would do anything at the idea of a little extra money, or in this case a hell of a lot of extra money, in their pockets. The manager thought this was to be easy money, though he didn't really know exactly how much food it took to compensate for a couple prey. "Miss Virginia N. Reaper. What a wonderful name for a wolf of your, stature. I am very, very sorry that my employees gave you such a hard time, Miss Reaper, and, I hope that you will come again after we have graciously sedated you. Now, Garkon, find this famished young fur a table. A big table," the manager stated with a sly smile as he hurried the host along, "before this beautiful ex-pred changes back into a normal wolf and bites all our heads off." Virginia smiled contentedly at her violin case, picked it and her cowboy hat up, and followed the host into the dining area. As usual, the first thing on this restaurant's menu for furs like Virginia was a large helping of whispered scoffs, angry glances, and a few nervous double-takes as she was taken across the dining area. A family or two even had the nerve to get up and walk out of the restaurant. The head waiter tried to stop them and reassure them that she wasn't out to eat them, but they walked out anyway, probably after trying to demand their money back. To the manager, the clopping of Virginia's shitkickers on the dining area's marble floor sounded just like the ticking of an ominous death clock. Yes, the name Reaper did suit her just nicely, though the credit report he had gotten via his ear-piece to the other cashier told him that she would definitely be able to make up the difference, if not easily pay for an entire chain of dining facilities if he could get her interested in becoming a regular. Virginia stopped to watch those customers leave, and then turned to the host and sighed, "Sorry about all this negative publicity, little doggy." "No, Miss Reaper, do not bother yourself with their doings. It is all just perfectly fine. They all have already paid for their orders. If they want to take their food with them, that is perfectly fine, but, as the sign says on the podium, we do not give refunds here", the host commented slyly, thinking about the huge commission he was going to be getting for doing this. As neared an open table, a busty, semi-pudgy, blond and white furred cocker spaniel swished in from the kitchen, stared dumb-struck at Virginia, barked, and collected herself as the host angrily motioned for her to prep the table NOW, which after a last curious sideways glance, she did. "G-good afternoon, mam. My n-name is *arr* Becky, and I will be your, waitress, for the evening", the cocker spaniel began nervously as she watched the massive wolf sit down. “*arr* A-afternoon, I mean.” Becky Bartell wanted to serve meals. Becky Bartell didn't want to be a meal. Suddenly she wished she was a hell of a lot thinner and less appealing to a pred, especially one that could seize control of an entire restaurant. "Give, Miss Reaper a menu, Becky", the host growled disdainfully at the cocker spaniel, and then smiled at Virginia, conceitedly shaking his head. "Thank you, Becky. I am very sorry that my presence scares you so. I do not mean you or any of the other little doggies and kitties in this fine establishment any harm. If you would rather go and find another waitress less brave then yourself in showing their true feelings towards me, then that would be perfectly fine with me", Virginia responded in a soft soothing voice as she excepted the menu from Becky's hand. "*arr* No, mam. I want to be your waitress", Becky replied timidly, her arms behind her back and her tail between her legs. "Yes, I know. Now, Garkon is it? Why not go and rustle up some other cute little doggy or kitty to take care of Miss Becky's other tables. It would not do to have her over-tasked with tending to me and the other customers", Virginia suggested right before her watch beeped to signal that another news flash was coming through. The hands and numbers faded away and a three dimensional hologram of a cheetah stood halfway out of her gold plated, deceptively analog wrist watch pleading distantly at Virginia, "As I speak, Floating Island Vegas is heading for a fiery grave in Central Wilbraham, and, oh Gawd, it's heading straight for Minnechaug Regional Elementary School. The death toll could be in the thousands in the school alone. Floating Island Veg-" With a dismal sigh, Virginia set her violin case down on the seat beside herself and turned the watch's transmission off. "Good Gawd. That is just awful. I had stock in that Island. Oh, and do you think there is any way they will be able to evacuate all those young furs in time?", a handsome beagle behind Virginia thought out loud as he continued to watch the newscast from his own watch. "And to think. We were on that Island just yesterday, Herald. Such a grand casino going down for unknown reasons. It must be sabotage", a fluffy, pearl white feline scoffed at another table, throwing her jeweled hands in the air. "What is this world coming to?", Herald responded coyly, shaking his head in contempt at one of the Island's hotel's disapproving decor. Virginia had been on quite a few Floating Islands herself. These massive and persistently maintained airships had better histories than any other form of vehicle around. She'd never heard of one crashing, though there were a few movies out on what would happen if one did, and there had only been rare reports of one of those monsters having to be grounded. She didn't want to see the carnage and destruction that was guaranteed to happen, and if she could help it, she didn't want to hear it second by gory second, either. Virginia was suppose to have been on that Island right now, but she had overslept and missed her flight. Her ticket had been rescheduled for tomorrow, but it looked like, once again, she'd be spending the time just riding the highways. Yes, furs would escape from the Island and the school, but not nearly enough to keep this inevitable incident out of the history books. It seemed like every time she worked up the nerve to have some real fun, something would happen and she'd miss it, and then fate would try to make her glad she didn't go by killing a dozen of so innocent furs. Though she'd never really believe it, sometimes Virginia wanted to blame all of this on Mr. Jackalope. "Yes. Definitely unfortunate for all of them. *heh* Serves them right for trying to bring back gambling", the host summed up as he walked away to tend to other money matters, finally leaving the two female furs to themselves. "*sigh* So, mam. What would you like first? A *arrr* nice Porterhouse steak, or a *arrr* heaping plate of barbecue ribs?", Becky asked as she flipped her headfur, swished her hips, and pulled a notepad out of the front pocket of her apron. Things like that were suppose to be outside business. Completely unrelated to the customer's needs, which right now looked like a lot of hopefully dogless meat. "Ooo now. Not so fast, my dear Becky. Why not start by telling me what this wonder little restaurant has as far as appetizers", Virginia replied, accepting what she thought was a hopeful change of subject on Becky's part, but only resulted in a head tilted, glazed eyed, dumb-struck look on the golden-eyed cocker spaniel’s face. In a sudden whim of thought, Virginia suspected that the doggie’s tightly clad uniform's pressure on her luscious body was cutting off the oxygen to her brain. Her insecurity definitely showed. “This place does have appetizers, does it not, my dear Becky? Please tell me there is more here then just marinated slabs of meat”, Virginia asked suspiciously as she browsed the open menu and then looked at the front of it. Canine menu. Yeah, that made sense. "Why yes, mam. *Arrr* Quite right. How rude of me, mam", Becky whimpered and then stood there patiently as she watched Virginia reopen the menu and scan the first page again. "*sigh* You can call me, Virginia, my darling little Becky. It is perfectly all right with me. Now as for this menu of yours... Ooo yeah. You domestics definitely have quite a selection here. So many wonderful choices. *hmmm* What is the soup of the day, my cute little Becky?", Virginia asked curiously. "*Arrrr yip* Clam Chowder, mam. *arr* Virginia. But-", Becky answered, liking Virginia more and more. "You have seafood!", Virginia gasped exuberantly, greedily flashing a toothy grin at the suddenly frightened dog. "*arrr arr* Y-y-yes, mam. Virginia. *whimper*", Becky whimpered hysterically, falling over backwards and almost losing control of herself. Damn, Virginia. What big, sharp teeth you have. And so many of them, too. Becky's entire head could fit between Virginia's powerful jaws. That had been too close. Too quick. Virginia would have to watch herself. It wouldn’t do to have her waitress pissing on herself over a simple menu selection. "I am so very sorry about that, my dear Becky. I really did not mean to scare you like that. Please get up. I will try not do that again, for your sake. Now, you said that you do indeed have seafood?", Virginia asked again, this time much more somberly. Virginia could get cooked beef, ham, and or chicken almost anywhere, but fish. High quality fish in large portions was a true sign of a restaurant's grandeur. Becky slowly collected herself, got up, brushed herself off, and nodded uneasily to Virginia. Then, as if testing her comfort zone with uncomfortably large and toothy customer, she leaned over until they were almost nose to nose, unconsciously showing Virginia the full view of her cleavage, and explained, "Our feline customers demand that we do, Virginia. We have a wide selection of seafood, like *arrr* calamari, shark, shrimp, *arrr*..." "Please tell me you have seafood spaghetti", Virginia mrrred dreamily. Just the thought of that and, “Ooo yeah, and Hawaiian pizza. Please say you make those two things, my bountiful little Becky.” "*Aye* Why, yes we do, Virginia”, Becky replied coyly as she pulled out the feline menu, accompanying handing it to Virginia with a sly wink. "*Mrrr* Ooo, well then, my cute little Becky, I think I will start with your ample appetizer section, of both menus. Followed by a large bowl of your hot, steaming Clam Chowder, and... What would you suggest I drink, my dear Becky?”, Virginia asked with her head on her hands. “*arrr arr* Oh, yes. The raspberry ice tea here is very delicious”, Becky replied, thoughtfully sticking her tongue out of the side of her mouth. “*arr*, but if you would rather have wine...” “I think I will have a few pitchers of your delicious raspberry ice tea, Becky darling. If you like it, then it must definitely be very good. Then, *hmmm* well, I think I will start off the rest of your menu with a heaping plate of that heavenly seafood spaghetti. You can not imagine how long its been since I tasted seafood spaghetti, my dear Becky", Virginia explained, dreamily adding in the last part with half closed eyes and a flash of teeth. "*aye*", the golden-eyed cocker spaniel yipped, now nose to nose with her wolfish customer, spending a couple seconds of reflective time just teetering over Virginia's table with a dreamy look on her face. Virginia snorted amusingly and raised a blow as her ears picked up the steady tapping of Becky's foot. "Virginia?... *arrr* would you rather I served your *arrr* spaghetti on a one of our silver bus trays? They are much bigger than a lousy plate, and, maybe I can even get you an entire pot for yourself." "Ooo yeah. How thoughtful of you to suggest such a thing. Yes, my dear Becky, that does sound peachy", Virginia replied, looking at how Becky’s waitress uniform played ever so constrictively over her body. “Why, Becky darling. Are you wearing a girdle?” “Yes, Virginia”, Becky whimpered embarrassedly, looking over her tight uniform. “Ooo now, what a pity to hear that. You are going to be my waitress for a while, my dear Becky, so you might as well relax. Why not go, take off that worthless thing, and when my food gets done and ready, you, my cuddly little waitress, can sit down and join me in enjoying a well deserved meal”, Virginia suggested soothingly as she lightly passed her claws over the front of Becky’s uniform. “*aye*”, Becky yipped happily and left. “*hmmm*”, Virginia sighed, laying her head on her hands as she watched the portly cocker spaniel skip away, to the scoffs of some of the other customers. Yes. Virginia definitely preferred eating with her company over eating her company, until her cubhood friend. As for these other furs in here... As Virginia waited for them to start preparing all of her food, she slowly got up and slipped the violin case onto the table. With a press of her royal purple painted claws on its golden fasteners, it clicked open and she somberly started taking the items inside of it out one by one. In a deep state of meditation, Virginia tightened and rosined the long narrow bow, then started tuning the strings on the ominously black violin. It had been varnished to a near glass quality, reflecting her and the rooms image in inverse colors, and as she gently slipped her claws across the strings, an electrostatic charge tingled her fingers and a velvety rich tone sliced easily through the methodical conversations at all the other tables and hung in the air for a few seconds like a faint aroma. Then, when Virginia felt that everything sounded right, she slipped the intricately constructed slice of darkness onto her left shoulder and under her left cheek, her head cocked ever so gently with her left ear hanging like a furry gray awning over the bridge, curled her right hand around the equally ominously black bow, closed her eyes, and immersed herself into the feel of the strings. As the G string oozed out tendrils of pain and loneliness, vaporizing every other sound like a nuclear shockwave, all the other customers watched the news reports of the world's chaos and slowly started feeling much less removed from the action. As Virginia caressed the strings with her finger pads and claws and agonizingly stroked it with the bow, her audience became tormented by the whimpering of a massive choir of unseen ghosts. Invisible furs that seemed to soar out of the violin like an umbral gateway to shamefully whispered to each customer every heartless deed that they had done and witnessed without qualms all throughout their lives. There were some stone-hearted few that sat there looking at the large she-wolf with pained annoyance, but there were many more that, if just because they had only witnessed a bad act, broke out in tears as they pricked up their ears to absorb every note. Though they might not necessarily change, they would remember this event. And then there were the furs out there like Becky, who was now leaning on the doorway to the kitchen. The furs that somehow escaped the thralls of evil and listened to feel and sympathize for Virginia's own pain. The rare furs that had been breathed into existence to slow down the destruction of a dying world. Really, this composition wasn’t for any of the furs in this restaurant. This was for the furs like Malady, the most unlikely of cubhood friends and the downfall of many a fur. Malady represented the furs that would, if they felt these notes, almost literally have their souls and lives ripped to shreds by the spiritual blackhole the violin liked to generate. Darkheart. That’s what Virginia had named the violin. All the other furs that heard Virginia’s songs agreed it was a fitting name. Malady had played a big part in Darkheart’s creation, and everywhere Virginia went, there was a reason for Darkheart’s existence. Since it wasn’t completely practical for Virginia to live by the Golden Rule, sometimes situations warranted her to show the other furs all the pain they’ve armored themselves against. Yes. This was only a recital in remembrance for all the furs that died unhappy. The true concert of tormention would come when Virginia saw Malady and especially Mr. S. Polypophilacopolis up close and personal. If only she’d had the confidence to do act out her plans sooner... “No. This is wrong. These cute little doggies and kitties deserve a happy song, my grim little Darkheart”, Virginia sighed, hearing her anger sneak out of the strings. She wasn’t really sure if she was talking to the violin or herself. She wasn’t able to create this effect with any other violin, and no one else was able to create this effect with this violin. Either way, it was better than associating it with the real fur behind the magik. “Why not show them your gentle side, Mr. Jackalope, or at least lighten up a little. I would think that after being decease for a decade, you would be a bit more, plushy.” Well actually, Mr. Jackalope had never been alive in the first place, in the literal sense of the word, but for the period in Virginia’s life when he had always been there for her, he had definitely seemed like it. Maybe even more so than any of the other furs around them. With a kind-hearted chuckle, Virginia slowly started coaxing the melody into the upper strings. It wouldn't be right to have everyone left eating their meals in such a tragic state. It was wasteful, bad for the restaurant's business, and just plain cruel. She was also risking getting thrown out again. Her playing had killed a fur once. She had been having a bad day and the outcome had traumatized her for years. Yes, it had been an exceptionally cruel fur that ended up deserving it, but it wasn’t Mr. Polypophilacopolis, and that’s the only fur she ever wanted to kill like that. No, she’d never really meant Darkheart to be a lethal weapon to any fur, including that heartlessly conceited, double-speaking fox. “*sigh* Why, Mr. Jackalope? Why did you let it go that far?”, Virginia groaned painfully as she forced the tempo speed up bit by bit and let her fingers dance across all four strings. “What could he have had on you that, even with all your magik, you would bow down and let him ruin so many lives?” As if in apology, visions of a large long forgotten structure swirled up into Virginia’s mind. She'd never be able to forget her first home. A gothic looking orphanage full of the oddest young furs society could ever want to throw away, or so they’d been told. Only one fur there’d ever remembered his past before being put into the orphanage. Only one fur there’d known who his parents were and his roots. Only one fur there’d known the reason why they’d all been put into that orphanage in the first place. But, like his real name, he wouldn’t tell them until they were older, so all the other furs there’d affectionately called him, Mr. Jackalope. Mr. Jackalope, the sole orphanage caretaker, had definitely been one of the most unusual hybrids Virginia had ever seen and, through living in the orphanage and traveling throughout the world, she’d seen quite a few good looking hybrids, Malady included of course. All the hybrids except for Mr. Jackalope had at least been somewhere within one species, and all but a very few had been mammals of some sort. Mr. Jackalope’d had the head of a jackrabbit, the hips and legs of an antelope, and a ten foot anaconda tail. The species of his upper body and arms had been unknown since he’d always worn a long sleeve, forest green uniform coat and black, long fingered gloves, which had suggested that it might have been a rodent of some sort. On each of the fingertips of his left glove had been red, plastic, mini pencil sharpeners, and on each of the fingertips of his right glove had been yellow, eight inch long, wooden pencils. Over his eyes, twenty-four hours of the day, he’d worn simple-looking inferred goggles that had given him a comically villainous look even though he’d always had a warm, kind-hearted smile on his face. Actually, that’d been all the clothing Mr. Jackalope’d ever worn. Just a coat, gloves, and goggles. It’d never changed, and his fur and snakeskin had always smelled like potpourri, so, before Virginia and the other orphans had became a little bit more self aware, they’d thought that he couldn’t find pants for his species(?), had bad eyesight, and had an entire closet full of just those coats. Anyway, the first unusual thing that Virginia had noticed about Mr. Jackalope was that he’d always seemed to be carrying some sort of music box inside his coat that played “Chariots of Fire” non-stop twenty-four hours a day, yet she’d never once saw him wind it and there’d never been a lump in his form-fitting coat to show exactly where it had been. The second thing, which had been pointed out to everyone by the habitually masturbative young Malady, was that Mr. Jackalope’d lacked any sort of genitalia whatsoever. Not being the type of young fur to probe other’s like young Malady did, the just as young Virginia’d thought that Mr. Jackalope’d been just another herm like Malady. He’d had this breathy baritone voice and brotherly air about him, which, together with his instrumentive background music, had allowed him to calm down any situation and later on, had invoked a few furotic bedtime stories amongst the females and some of the males alike. Until she’d worked up the nerve to ask Mr. Jackalope himself, young Virginia’d continued to believe that he’d had Malady’s member and pouch, which had supposedly been even more camouflaged than Malady’s was, minus the female muff underneath it. Unfortunately, closer examination by young Virginia had revealed that not only had Mr. Jackalope not had genitalia, but he’d lacked any other holes in his body, including a throat. “Mr. Jackalope? Can I ask you a personal question?”, young Virginia’d asked, shuffling her feet and her tail between her legs as she’d nervously smoothed out her puffy, yellow dress. “Well, Virginia. That all depends on what the question is. As is and will always be true, you can ask me any question without fear or judgment, and no matter its intentions, I shall keep it as confidential as you wish and I shall always be your friend”, Mr. Jackalope’d sang softly to his wolf cub guest, motioning to her with his pencil clawed hand for her to come over and sit on his lap. He’d been slowly rocking to the tempo of his hidden music box in an ornately crafted wooden rocking chair at the time of their meeting. “Mr. Jackalope. Malady says that you are not really a fur”, young Virginia’d whispered as she’d accepted his invitation. “I am a fur, Virginia. I am a fur”, Mr. Jackalope’d replied after a thoughtful pause, running his penciled fingers through young Virginia’s snow white headfur. “You fix us meals and clean up after us, but I have never seen you eat, Mr. Jackalope... Do you ever get hungry, Mr. Jackalope?”, young Virginia’d whimpered as she’d gently rubbed the pads of her hands across the light brown, super soft, velvety fur of his left leg. “Do you ever feel pain or anger or lust, Mr. Jackalope? Do you ever feel fear or happiness or sorrow?” “You already know the answers to your questions, Virginia. I will not lie to you about my abilities or emotions, but I am a fur. I feel sorrow when another fur is unhappy. I feel fear when another fur is in trouble. I feel happy when all the furs under my care are happy”, Mr. Jackalope’d replied, his voice seeming to have been coming from the very room itself. “Oh, I am so sorry, Mr. Jackalope. I did not know”, young Virginia’d whimpered in response, unsure if she was suppose to go or not. “Do not trouble yourself over it, Virginia. It is my duty as a plushy to deal with other’s issues and problems”, Mr. Jackalope’d explained as he’d reached over and transferred a sketch pad from the top of the nightstand beside them onto young Virginia’s lap. Then, as he’d casually started sketching and shading in two figures onto the first page at a dizzyingly detailed pace, he’d changed the subject with, “Malady is maturing quite fast. Would you agree, Virginia?” “Not really, Mr. Jackalope. She is not housebroken at all, never sleeps by hirself or in hir own bed, and she is always breaking things and getting into trouble”, young Virginia’d noted as she’d watched the blank page transform into an almost photographic scene of a natural young Malady on hir scarlet cloak, the only article of clothing they’d ever been able to get hir to wear, on hir back, looking apologetically up at a regally dressed young Virginia, whom’d had her back turned away from hir aloofishly and her arms crossed. In the photographic sketch, the entire room had been in complete disarray. “Yes. That, too. She has no sense of right or wrong and she has no sense of dignity.” “Do you know why that is so, Virginia? Do you know what she is? Do you know what you are?”, Mr. Jackalope’d riddled hintingly as he’d turned the page over to the next blank one and had placed it back on the nightstand. Later on, young Virginia had made it her job to make sure that the thousand or so photographic sketches Mr. Jackalope’d generated of all the orphans under his care throughout his life were kept safely away from Malady in a large bombproof safe. The safe was at her present day house now and from time to time did open it up and reminisce. Young Virginia’d looked at the nightstand, then up at Mr. Jackalope’s muzzle, then at the door back into the hallway, and had finally asked, “A fur?” “Yes. I am a fur, too, Virginia”, Mr. Jackalope’d replied with a warm smile as he’d gently set his dainty wolf cub guest back onto the ground, “I am a fur, too.” As Virginia placed Darkheart and its bow back into their simple, brown case, tears streamed down the sides of her face like a river. By no means was Virginia immune to the violin’s magik, and as she fastened the case closed and stroked its light brown, super soft, velvety exterior with the pads of both hands, the mournful melody continued in her mind. “That was so beautiful, Virginia”, Becky whimpered remorsefully as she wheeled in the first cart-full of Virginia’s appetizers. “Thank you, my dear Becky. I hope it did not trouble you in any way. I have caused you too much fear as it is and it would not do you have my dear little waitress overburdened with thoughts of despair”, Virginia sighed as Becky nuzzled Virginia’s side and held her. Then, there was an deep, impatient growling in Virginia’s stomach that made the cocker spaniel momentarily step back and look curiously at the she-wolf’s stomach, which Virginia accompanied with a weak smile, and concluded, “Ooo yeah. I guess it is time we got my empty little gut filled up and forgot about all these trivial matters. Would you not agree, Becky darling.” “*arr* Yes. Of course, Virginia. So what would you like first?”, Becky barked happily as she hurried to transfer the carts contents onto Virginia’s table once Virginia had set the violin case back onto its own seat and sat down herself once again. Becky’s navy blue and crimson striped blouse was now buttoned up to just below her breasts, revealing a shapely strip of the fluffy off-white fur of her pudgy underbelly. As to maintain a uniform appearance, the perky cocker spaniel had tucked in the sides and back of her blouse back into her black trousers, which she had removed the belt from and left the top button on her trousers unbuttoned. “*hmmm* Yes. Much better, Becky darling”, Virginia approved as she watched the cocker spaniel swish this way and that. As Becky set the last of the plates and bowls on her table, Virginia looked at the entire selection and smirked. There was a lot of food laid out in front of her and all the time in the world to eat it. She was glad of that. She couldn't eat fast. It gave her hiccups and indigestion. She had to rest after she felt full and wait for her stomach to stretch on its own. Yes, she could eat a lot, but not like Malady. If she forced herself, she'd get cramps and possibly rupture her stomach. After scanning her choices, Virginia dumped the dipping bowl’s entire contents of Ranch dressing over the deep-fried cauliflower. Then, she emptied the entire bowl of creamy vegetables into her wide maw. She didn’t spill any of the dressing or get anything on her smoky gray fur, but there were a couple white specks on the corners of her mouth, which Becky eagerly pointed out. “*arr* May I, Virginia?”, Becky asked, eagerly wagging her short fluffy tail. “Ooo, why yes you may, my lovely little Becky. You have my permission to clean up after me as you will”, Virginia replied before transferring a bowl-full of honey mustard drowned onion rings into her mouth a bit more sloppily. Becky barked in confirmation and then quickly started licking the vegetable, bread, and mustard specks off of Virginia’s mouth as Virginia thoughtfully swirled a buffalo wing in the barbecue sauce bowl. Yes, that’d definitely been a day Virginia wished she could forget. She'd gotten cocky and overestimated herself. She was definitely different from a normal fur, and whenever an overzealous fur found out what she could do, she seemed to always find herself in a predicament to hurt herself. After chewing the cauliflower thoughtfully for a minute or so, Virginia next bit three quarters off the loaf of buttery garlic French bread and then wetted it down with a few glasses worth of raspberry iced tea. This time some tea did escape her mouth, and Becky was just as quick to lick it up off the table and clean off the used bowls and plates. One of the reasons Virginia couldn't do vore was that, even if her stomach could handle it, she would’ve never been able to hold her breath long enough to swallow anything but a cub, kit, or pup. Secondly, she found swallowing young furs to be just a bit immoral. Lastly, of course, was the fact that feathers and fur irritated her stomach, so when she had tried vore, it’d been with snakes and other thin-skinned, easily swallowed reptiles. Virginia made an effort to reach across the table and, which doing so, inconspicuously elbowed a large bowl of honey glazed chicken wings onto the floor. “Oh my. I am so very sorry, my dear Becky. How rude of me. I bet those wings are just scrumptious and now they are just going to go to waste. What a pity.” “No, no, Virginia. That was my fault. I should have put them somewhere else. *arr* Consider it a tip”, Becky yipped as she dropped down to all fours and started greedily scarfed up the dozen or so wings and licking the bowl and floor clean. “*hmmm* Yes. As you wish, my darling little Becky,” Virginia commented as she happily popped a few grilled ham and cheese sandwiches into her mouth, “but it was still very rude of me to reach over the table like that. A disaster like that was just bound to happen with all the wonderful food you brought for me.” “*arr urp* Oh. Excuse me. No problem, Virginia”, Becky said as she stood up again, the fluffy white strip on the front of her blouse now almost twice as wide. “Yes. So I see, my dear Becky. You are truly a wonderfully dedicated little waitress. How fortunate of me to have met you”, Virginia commented with a sideways glance at the cocker spaniel’s belly as she thoroughly chewed up another mouthful of sandwiches. “Would you be a darling and hand me the mozzarella sticks, my dear Becky?” Actually, Malady was a good example of a lot of things Virginia was against, though not necessarily not capable of doing herself female wise. She still didn't think of herself as a yifftoy for various reasons. She got sick and had a few, imperfections, got hurt if she stepped too far out of the normal fur traits, and definitely had better things to do with her life then yiff whenever possible. Virginia did unfortunately have a yifftoy’s sterileness though. “*arr* Certainly, Virginia”, Becky yipped and then picked up the plate of mozzarella sticks from the other side of the table. “*arr* Do you want anything on them, Virginia?” “Ooo yeah. *hmmm* Yes, the sweet and sour sauce sounds peachy, my dear Becky”, Virginia replied, and then rolled a long line of brussel sprouts into her mouth. “*arr* Okay”, Becky barked, waited until Virginia had swallowed the brussel sprouts, and then spread the sticks out on Virginia’s tongue and carefully glazed them with a bowl-full of sauce. Nonetheless, and possibly because of this alone, Virginia had the unfortunate privilege of being able to say that she’d grown up in the same orphanage as Malady DeBauchee. Even as a young fur, Malady’d been nothing but trouble, and for reasons Virginia’d yet to understand, she’d befriended the yiffy vixen. Maybe, she’d either hoped to change hir ways somehow. Make hir less pure... Until now, Virginia hadn’t noticed how much strain she was putting on her purplish-blue short sleeve silk shirt. It was of excellent craftsmanship, and so was straining on its golden button, but couldn’t seem to pop them off to make some more room for her bloated stomach. With a groan, Virginia looked down at the column of smoky gray diamonds, stifled a belch, and then, with a lot of effort, started unbuttoning her shirt from right below her breasts downwards. Then, with a satisfactory nod, she unbuttoned her shirt the rest of way, untucked her shirt so that it flopped carelessly on her sides, and unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans. She was still wearing a bra and panties, so there was no way they could say she was indecent. “*hmmm* So, my dear Becky. What do you think we should eat next?”, Virginia asked as a gentle fan breeze passed over her exposed fur and made her body tingle a bit. “*arr* We, Virginia?”, Becky asked stupidly, scanning what was left on the table. “Yes, my darling little Becky. We”, Virginia replied gingerly as she inconspicuously reached her left hand down and momentarily scritched her crotch. Damn you, Malady. The sly, little vixen had gotten young Virginia and hirself into all sorts of mischief, and then the boarders' good sides again by yiffing around with them. Of course, when she’d eaten a fellow orphan or boarder, problems had arisen within the house, but for the most part young Malady had loved to talk hir wolf cub companion into doing all sorts of mischief. Been it raiding a private stock, sneaking out and scaring the nocturnal furs, or participating in yiffing an orphan male, Virginia’d found that sometimes being weak-willed had at least been fun. Having pretty much filled herself up with the chicken wings, Becky ate only about one piled up plates worth of the bowls and plates of buffalo wings, onion rings, deviled eggs, Canadian bacon, popcorn shrimp, seasoned and marinated chicken, turkey, and ham strips, cheesy potato wedges, tuna fish, and chicken salad she dumped into Virginia’s maw. She only wished she couple eat half as much as her customer. To do able to pack away a family-sized meal just as an appetizer was a trick Becky would give anything to learn., but alas, it must be a pred thing. Becky wanted to eat more, but this was really Virginia’s meal, not hers. Yes, the big wolf had given her permission to eat as much as she wanted to and, maybe if she untucked her blouse and, well if she undid her trousers any more, they would definitely fall down, and that wouldn’t do at all. Virginia sighed as she watched Becky readjust herself, lick clean a few more plates, and then guzzle down a glass of ice tea. “My my, Becky darling. You do look thirst. How rude of me to have you running around like that and not even offer you a drink. It is a bottomless pitcher, is it not, my dear Becky? There are after all three pitchers here already, and it would be absolutely greedy of me to keep them all to myself. Please sit down, my jumpy little waitress. Let me pour you another glass of ice tea”, Virginia suggested, Becky did sit down, Virginia refilled Becky’s glass, and Becky slowly but eagerly emptied it again. “I would have to say that this restaurant of yours, my dear Becky, does have the best raspberry ice tea I have ever tasted. You did indeed make a wonderful selection, Becky darling.” “*arr* Thank you, Virginia”, Becky replied and then watched as Virginia refilled her glass again. “Ooo” “Drink up, my dear Becky. There is plenty of ice tea here for the both of us. Just sit, drink, and enjoy your time off. I will graciously serve myself for the time being”, Virginia offered as she watched Becky drain another glass, which Virginia casually refilled again between sampling a plate of oysters. Then there’d been the time that young Malady’d decided to really test young Virginia's capacity. The orphanage had always had small stocks and had learned to guard and padlock them very effectively. Since it’d become too much work for too little food between them both, young Malady’d decided to stroll over to the nearest grocery store, pick the lock, silence the alarms, and start sampling the wares. Virginia had, of course, decided to go along and try to match her bite for bite, which had been her first mistake. “Ooo”, Becky cooed again as Virginia refilled her glass for the umpteenth time. Becky was feeling really bloated, but she liked it. They didn’t serve watered down ice tea at Reigning Katz and Dogz. This was a sweet fruity liquid, with an aftertaste you were glad to have in your mouth. “Ooo *arr urp*” Virginia emptied another few glasses worth of ice tea down her on throat, refilled Becky’s glass, and then looked at the lower tray of the cart Becky had wheeled in the appetizers on. There was a very large pot still closed up and left alone down there, and Virginia figured that it could only be one thing. “Why, Becky darling. Is that my clam chowder?”, Virginia asked with an open smile and a lick of the lips. “Oh, uh, why yes, Virginia. There was no room for it before. Let me get it for you”, Becky suggested as she carefully laid down her empty glass and started to get up, but was halted by a wave of Virginia’s ringed hand. “There is no bother, Becky darling. I said that I would serve myself, did I not? I was just wondering where my delicious soup had gone off to. Here. Have another glass of ice tea, and I will see about emptying out this pot of clam chowder. What you say, my loyal little Becky?”, Virginia asked quaintly as she pulled the cart over to the side of her seat, grabbed the pot by its handles, and hoisted the heavy, steaming pot right in front of herself on the table. As she removed the lid and sniffed the chunky white stew inside, she commented to her potbellied cocker spaniel friend, “Do take the liberty to serve yourself, my dear Becky. I do not believe I will be able to reach around this pot of yours without making a fool of myself again.” “*aye*”, Becky replied with a twisted smile as she gingerly tipped the pitcher of ice tea over glass and watched it ever so menacingly fill up again. Malady had always been smaller than Virginia, but she was unmistakably pure yifftoy and seemed to be all stomach. When young Virginia’d started groaning louder than her aching stomach was, young Malady’d just smiled even more slyly and tried to stuff one more slab of meat down the wolf cub’s throat. Virginia’d panicked and thrown the vixen kit off of her as she choked. Malady, at first, had been furious at hir help being rejected. Virginia’d never fought back before, let alone thrown Malady up against a solid wall, and Malady didn’t know what to make of the situation. It hadn’t been hard enough to cause a fatal concussion, but if it’d been any fur but Malady, it would have done some serious damage. Malady’d never known Virginia was that strong, and she’d never felt such full body pain. Before scooping up the last bowl-full of clam chowder out of the pot and pouring it down her throat, Virginia groggily picked up the larger bowl of seafood salad and chased down the soup with it, gagged, coughed violently, and then sighed and looked into the soup pot. “Ooo yeah. That is definitely the *urp* best clam chowder I have ever tasted”, Virginia drawled as she lifted the pot over her muzzle, poured the rest of its contents into her mouth, and then fell into a punch-drunk slumber with the pot over her head, sideways on the table. Meanwhile, Becky just stared blankly at the half full pitcher of raspberry ice tea in front of her. She wasn’t sure how much liquid fit into each of those pitchers, but she had definitely drank one and a half of them and now she didn’t want to do anything at all. “*arr* Ooo. Yes, Virginia”, Becky answered with a drunken smile as she continued to try to make the other half of the pitcher’s contents go down her throat by telepathy. Her tummy gurgled and bubbled for her to cut it out and get a stomach pump, but Becky just looked at, scritched, and cooed to it lovingly, “I love my *urp* job.” “*yiff yiff* That was cool, Virgie. Throw me again. Harder, this time”, Malady’d mrrred as she’d ran back towards the wolf cub. Malady’d loved it. No, more than that. Malady’d found it utterly yiffy. From that point forward, she’d decided that every fur should feel like she did just then. In a gleeful bodyslam onto young Virginia’s stomach, popping out the chunk of meat the wolf cub had been choking on and cracking a rib or two, Malady’d squealed, “Hit me again, Virgie! Hit me again! Hit me hard!” Once young Virginia’d caught her breath, she’d graciously done just that, and Malady’d become her most annoying cubhood friend to the very end. Yes. Malady and Mr. Polypophilacopolis would both pay dearly for everything they’d done to her, the orphans, and especially Mr. Jackalope. Their concert would come tonight. To Be Continued...