Story: Family Matters
Plonq
muzzle and hung accusingly in the air between the two morphs, its gossamer
surface shimmering colourfully in the sunlight that streamed through the
kitchen window. The little otter sitting across from the snow leopard was
too surprised to react at first, but he quickly recovered his composure and
reached out to pop the bubble with one of his delicate nails.
"I knew it!" said Giblet angrily, slamming his other fist down on the
purrsonal ads he had been reading. "You've been drinking my shampoo again,
haven't you?"
"Bleah," agreed the snow leopard miserably. The otter shook his head in
annoyance.
"I wish you'd stop eating and drinking my toiletries. I KNOW the herring
oil shampoo smells good, but it's there to give my coat a healthy shine, not
for fish-crazed felines to drink while they're in the shower. The same goes
for my cologne, toothpaste and soap. That stuff will kill you, if you're
not careful."
Plonq hiccuped up another bubble.
"I don't feel so good," he mewled.
"Well don't expect any sympathy from me," said Giblet tartly. "That was a
brand new bottle of shampoo last week, and now it's half gone. And don't
think I haven't noticed the tongue marks on my deodorant - trust me, you
don't want to know where that stuff has been!"
Giblet didn't give the cat much time to think about his last statement
before he added,
"Anyway, you'd better be feeling better by this afternoon because my folks
are in town, and you're coming along to meet them for dinner."
Plonq paused in the process of wiping his tongue on the table cloth and
said,
"Your parents?"
"They're driving through on their way to Toronto. They're visiting friends
today, but mom called and said they want to meet me for dinner. Well, SHE
wants to meet me anyway - I'm not sure how dad feels about it. I'd just
like to have you along for moral support."
"Bleah," said the snow leopard sourly. He stood and paced while his tail
thrashed in counterpoint to his agitation. The cat stopped by the
refrigerator and removed a frozen fish stick, munching on it to soothe his
nerves.
"Oh don't be like that," said the otter. "You don't have to do anything but
sit there and eat. I'll buy. My dad will behave himself if you're sitting
there. If he tries to engage you in conversation then just talk about
hockey - bearing in mind that he's a Flames fan... what was that sound you
just made?!"
"Nothing," said Plonq innocently.
"Yes you did! I'm a Flames fan too, so don't forget it mister!" The
otter picked a fish wafer out of the bowl on the table and threw it at the
snow leopard. "Don't be making that sound around my dad! He takes his
hockey VERY seriously. Especially when it involves the Flames... there!
You made that sound again. Stop it! Argh! Just be ready to go by 5:00."
The little otter swept out of the kitchen, leaving Plonq alone with his
half-eaten fish stick. The snow leopard glanced at the clock on the kitchen
stove and noted that he had enough time before dinner to get drunk. He
purred and toddled over to the liquor cabinet where he had been saving some
18-month old scotch for just such an occasion.
When Giblet came looking for the snow leopard a few hours later, he found
the feline curled up on the end of the sofa, watching Pokemon and nursing a
glass of cheap scotch. If otters could lay eggs then the little mustelid
would have dropped one on the spot.
"Please tell me you're not drunk!" he wailed in exasperation. "I was hoping
that you'd make a good impression on my folks."
Plonq eyed the bottle and tried to remember what the level of its contents
had been before he had opened it. Whatever its former state had been, the
bottle was now unmistakably empty. The feline picked it up the decanter and
shook it upside-down to confirm his observation. A hitherto unnoticed
droplet of liquor ran down the inside of the bottle, hung precariously on
the lip for a moment and then dripped into the snow leopard's lap.
"Ack!"
"Oh my god," fussed Giblet, wringing his otter hands in agitation. "We've
got to get you sobered up. We're meeting my parents in less than an hour!"
He grabbed the tipsy cat by the lapels and pulled him unsteadily to his
feet. As he led the feline to the kitchen, he kept up a running commentary.
"I suppose you thought this would get you out of having to meet my folks,
eh?"
Plonq nodded emphatically.
"Well you're wrong," snapped Giblet. "I'm going to dump coffee down your
throat until you're ready to burst, and you WILL meet my folks, and you WILL
make a good impression. Do you have ANY idea how important this is to me?"
Plonq nodded again before he caught himself and shook his head. The otter
shoved him into one of the kitchen chairs and busied himself with the coffee
grinder. He twisted the dial to the twelve-cup setting and filled the pot
with enough water for two cups.
"It's not like I'm asking you to do a lot," he chided. "Just sit there and
look erudite. Also look like you might rip my father's arms off and stuff
them down his throat if he gets out of hand. Do you think you can handle
that?"
"Urm," hesitated Plonq.
"The appearance part I mean," added the otter quickly. He poured the coffee
grounds into the basket, glanced at the cat and quickly ground another four
cups worth. "All I need is a strong, silent, white knight to sit at the
table and keep my father in check. I know how much you hate meeting strange
people - and my parents are pretty strange - but just pretend that I'm on my
knees, begging you to do this."
The two furs sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the slow drip of
tar-like coffee into the carafe. While Giblet wondered if he had made the
coffee strong enough, Plonq quietly mused on the possibility of faking a
seizure. When the coffee maker gave a final gurgle, the otter snatched the
pot and put it on the table in front of the snow leopard.
"Drink," he commanded. "And when you're finished that, go shower and brush
your teeth. I don't want you smelling like cheap scotch when we get there."
Forty minutes later, Giblet had to admit that the sobering effects of coffee
were over-rated, but at least the feline looked - and smelled - passable.
He shepherded the tipsy cat morph out to the car and, after arguing over
whose turn it was to drive, slid behind the wheel and cranked the ignition
until the Plonqmobile coughed to life. He turned to his friend and said,
"Just be yourself, okay?" He noticed Plonq rooting through the glove box
for stale potato chips and added, "or not."
When they arrived at the restaurant they were met by a pair of
conservatively dressed, mature otters. Giblet pulled into an available
stall and killed the engine. He sat motionless for awhile, staring vacantly
at the steering wheel. Finally he pulled the keys out of the ignition,
pocketed them and said,
"Well, let's get this over with."
To his surprise, the snow leopard reached over and gave his hand a
comforting squeeze.
"I'm here," said Plonq gently.
The otter squeeze back and said,
"Right now I want to kiss you or cry - and I'd rather not do either in front
of my parents. Let's go."
The otter's mother met him with a silent hug, but his father's greeting was
less amiable.
"This was your mother's idea," he announced coolly. "I see you've lost the
earring." He regarded the snow leopard with visible distaste. "Who's your
friend?"
"This is Plonq," said Giblet, motioning toward the snow leopard with his
nose. "He's the friend from work who let me move in after the fire."
Both parents were agape for a moment before they began babbling at once.
"Fire? What fire?"
"Are you okay?"
"What are you talking about? Are you okay?"
"What happened?"
"Ack!" expostulated the snow leopard incredulously.
"I didn't tell them, Plonqie. Well, I..." said the otter, jamming his hands
into his pockets awkwardly. "I mean, when you guys threw me out... I didn't
think..."
"Oh Gib," said the she-otter again, pulling in her son and hugging him
tight. "Your father and I may not agree with some of your life choices, but
you're the only son we have." She wrapped an arm around his shoulder and
let him into the restaurant. "Come on, let's go in and sit down. I want to
know what else you haven't told us."
Once they were seated in the restaurant, the three otters engaged in
heart-felt, often tearful dialogue. Plonq amused himself by eating the
butter patties while he waited for the appetisers to arrive.
"Yum!"
When dinner arrivex, the snow leopard steered clear of the conversation
except to interject the occasional,
"Salt please," or "Are you going to eat that?"
If the cat had been listening to the conversation, he might have picked up
the danger signs and steered it to safer ground before it reached the
critical stage.
"So, exactly what is your relationship with this..." Giblet's father waved
in the general direction of the snow leopard with his fork.
"Plonq and I are lovers," said the otter firmly.
A pregnant silence descended over the table. If one had walked past the
table at that moment, he might have detected the early signs of a
heart-attack, an anxiety-attack, and a rush of fight-or-flight adrenaline
from a snow leopard who was clutching a half-eaten dinner roll in one hand,
and a drumstick in the other.
Plonq glanced between the three otter muzzles all pointing his direction,
motionless except for his eyes which bore an unmistakable "caged animal"
look. It was Giblet's father who finally broke the silence.
"Your lover?" he demanded. He turned to the snow leopard and said, "You
really didn't strike me as the type, son."
The snow leopard swallowed hard but aside from that he neither spoke, nor
moved. When it became apparent that he was struck for words the otter's
father spoke again.
"I'd hoped this was just a passing phase with my son. When I saw that he'd
removed the earring I thought that maybe he'd seen the light. So what is
he to you? A boy-toy? Do the two of you have sex? Come on, speak up."
The snow leopard swallowed again, harder.
"Well," prompted the otter sternly, "out with it."
"Bleah!" said Plonq emphatically.
Later that night the two furs sat on the sofa, quietly ignoring the droning
television. It was Giblet who finally broke the silence.
"I'll be surprised if they ever talk to me again," he said.
"Sorry," said Plonq again.
"I can't believe you coughed up a hairball on my father!" He giggled. "I
mean, it was GREAT, but I can't believe you did it."
"I didn't plan to do it," said the feline miserably, "I shouldn't have drunk
that shampoo."
The otter patted his friend's knee.
"You can drink my shampoo any time," he said, chuckling again. "Speaking of
which, I don't suppose there's any scotch left?"
"Ack!" said Plonq, which was answer enough.
Batty
<snipt>
>"I can't believe you coughed up a hairball on my father!" He giggled. "I
>mean, it was GREAT, but I can't believe you did it."
<laughs>
I like it.
batty
---
http://www.usn.blaze.net.au/~batty
______________________________________________________________
Carrots are good for your eyes, | More Fruitbats
but they hurt when you put them in. | In Literature!
______________________________________________________________
This is serious, Mum.
Smrgol
Things should get interesting now ......
More, Please?
Smrgol
Teryaki
Ooooo, I've been hoping for another one. :)
Thanx Plonq, these are the best. :)
Tery
Tephra Adularia
>"Plonq" <pl...@hotmail.com> writes:
><snipt>
>
>>"I can't believe you coughed up a hairball on my father!" He giggled. "I
>>mean, it was GREAT, but I can't believe you did it."
>
>
>I like it.
After recovering from laughing so hard she fell out of her chair, Teph gives
the snowmeow a thumbs up. :)
--
Tephra Adularia
Mate of Scholari
Owner of Tephra's Treasures (RL)
Owner/Proprietor of The Alternative Dragon (a.f.d)
DC.D f+ sRL sVR+ h--- Civory? a $ m++>** d+++ WL+*+ Fr++++ L60t40 Bpyro
To remove the spamblock: replace the X with the 'unlucky' number.
MoonSinger
>"Ack!" said Plonq, coughing up a large bubble.
(a silver wolf giggles)
Nice stuff, Plonq, as always. Keep it up. :)
MoonSinger
--
You can't take the wolf out of me, but you have to take it out of my address to
reach me.