I look down at the cup of coffee between my hands. The cream-colored liquid moves gently around in the little white cup that I brace between my claws. The warmth goes through the little glass cup and into the pads of my hands. It soothes the pain in my hands from all the writing that I had to do today.
It’s just like a board of directors to choose a tropical vacation retreat to come to and all we do is work. We’ve been here in RealWorld for three days and all we’ve done is work. Only now, on the third day, am I finally getting out of that lavishly decorated and boring-as-hell hotel penthouse to explore the amusement park.
When we got out of that meeting, everybody seemed excited to finally leave the main island and explore one of the other sixteen islands. Of the sixteen, all the boys seemed to be only interested in a select few: MedievalWorld, RomanWorld and WesternWorld. I guess any World that has guns or sharp, pointy things in it is a good thing. But, for a girl like me, I just don’t want to see any action. Maybe tomorrow, though.
No, instead, I chose to go to one of the least liked of the customers, GreaserWorld. It’s one of the smaller islands, decorated to be a small town and suburbia during the fifties, along with a military base and large woods. I guess it’s disliked a lot because parents bring their pups here to show them what it was like when they were pups themselves. Nothing like Ma and Pa to ruin a vacation.
But, I knew it would be the quietest of all the islands. It’s one of the few that isn’t themed to be something explicitly violent. Well, save for RetroWorld. I really don’t understand why people like that World. The thought of attending Woodstock and protesting Nixon really seems to get furs excited, for whatever reason.
I blow gently on the hot coffee and then roll my shoulders. I emit a little rumbling growl from within my throat as the stiffness from my arms and shoulders is released. As the coffee settles, I lift the cup to my mouth and take long sip. I swish the liquid around in my mouth before I swallow. The coffee tastes extremely good.
Then again, I think it’s real coffee, not that fake stuff that most companies serve us. Everybody seems so health-minded that everything’s fake now, for the sake of keeping one’s body looking nice. But, looking around, the furs in this World look really good, really healthy. No matter if they’re male of female. I guess having real food doesn’t seem to affect these furs.
Take the three men sitting along the bar in this little fifties-style diner. The one closest to me, a dog of some breed, is a greaser, dressed in folded-up cuff jeans, leather jacket and slicked-back black hair and low sideburns. He looks like he could bench four hundred, easy. Or take the tiger wearing a varsity jacket, brown khakis and cut hair, sitting just a few seats to the dogs’ left. He looks like he could lift the car he drove here in. Even the horse tending the counter looks good. I guess the real world got so caught up in itself that it forgot to think.
I hear a grunt from somewhere around me and then the creaking of a chair. I lift my head and turn to look at the two furs sitting closest to me at the bar. The tiger straightens out his back and then reaches into his pocket. He pulls out an old-looking dollar and puts it down onto the bar.
“Thanks for the drink, Harv.” The tiger says.
He then swivels around on that old-style stool and then stands up, putting his hard-bottomed shoes loudly down onto the floor. He turns and begins to walk towards the front door. As he nears me, his eyes look down at me and he nods his head and smiles. I look away from his eyes and then turn my head around and look back at my coffee.
Suddenly I hear another loud creak and look up. The mutt wearing the leather jacket swivels around on his stool and stands up. The tiger almost trips over the mutt’s leg and slams into the end of the table I sit before. I pick my coffee up from the tabletop just in time to save it and then look up to the two to see what just happened.
“Hey, watch where you’re going you leather-wearing idiot!” The tiger cries out as he steps away from the end of the table. “You tripped me and almost made me hit the lady.”
“Yeah, well, you should watch where you’re going you jug head, and maybe you would have seen me stand up in time to step around me!” The mutt replies.
As the two quiet down, they step forward, both balling their hands into fists and bearing their teeth, ready to fight, growling as they stare at each other. I turn my head away from the two of them and then look down at my coffee, blowing on it again. After a few seconds, I hear the growling from both of them cease.
“Hey, you two better not fight in here!” The horse behind the counter cries. “If you wanna fight, you better get outta here or I’ll call the police and have you taken to county!”
I lift my head and look up at the two offenders. They both loosen their fists and then quickly look away from each other. The tiger turns away from the mutt and charges towards the door. He slams open the door angrily and walks to the car he drove here in. As the door begins to swing shut, the car starts and the tiger pulls out and away.
The mutt does the same, but he flips up his collar, puts a toothpick between his teeth and marches out like a pompous ass. He catches the door before it closes, pushes it open again and marches across the street and out of sight behind a building there. The door closes gently, ringing a small bell that hangs above the doorway.
That’s what I like about these Worlds, as I’ve come to learn. The employees are great at never breaking character, no matter what. It’s almost crazy how good they are at keeping in character. They must pay these guys a lot because there’s no way in hell that I could do it, that’s for sure.
But, what’s even better is that they have these preplanned theatrical events. Like the fistfight between the two cliques. I’m sure it was planned out that if a place got too dull, they’d start something interesting, like a fistfight or a gunfight or an argument or something actiony like that. But if nobody seemed interested by the event, it’d never go through and they’d break it off. These guys must be pros or something.
I take another sip from the cup of real coffee and then look up again, looking for something interesting. I look to the window to my right and then out of it. Across the street is a shop with old televisions in them, the kind that weighed eight hundred pounds and had a screen smaller than a microwave.
On the screen is a fur dressed in a suit who is giving a speech. He looks exactly like Dwight D. Eisenhower. He speaks towards the audience whilst holding a piece of paper. Although I can’t tell what he’s talking about, as the glass cancels out the sound, but, I’m sure it’s something about the Soviet Union. No matter what world you go to, there’s always something violent going on. It just happens that the one for this world is really far away.
There actually is a ‘military base’ on this island. It’s a fake one, propped with old tanks and jeeps and propeller planes. I could go see it if I wanted to. I could walk through as if I weren’t there and screw with stuff, but, it doesn’t really interest me. Sometimes there is a fake announcement about the Cold War and it makes to set the mood, but, honestly, it’s really peaceful here most of the time.
As I look through the window, I see the reflection of something in the glass. My eyes focus on it and I see that it’s a wolf sitting at a counter. Suddenly I realize that the wolf is here in the diner. I swing my head around and look up towards the other end of the diner and see the final employee still here in the diner, save for the bartender and probably the cooks.
The wolf is another greaser. But, although he wears a leather jacket, jeans with the cuffs rolled up and biker boots, he has no hair. He has only his gray fur on top of his head. His ears stick straight up and his eyes are turned down towards the countertop where both of his arms lie with the pads of his hands down on the countertop. He seems bored and tired. Gradually his eyes close and his head nods forward, his ears folding a bit forward.
Suddenly his whole head spasms. I see his eyelids tighten up and his ears flip and fly around. His lips spasm out and then his head twists and jerks to a side. Finally his shoulders shrug up and his head holds in place. Then, as suddenly as this whole spasm came on, it disappears. The wolf’s shoulders relax, his head returns to position and he remains still.
Seconds later his eyes open and his mouth opens just slightly. He looks down to the countertop and then cocks his head as if he’s confused. His ears rotate around and then he lifts up his head. His head swings around and he looks around the diner as if he has no idea where he is. His eyes scan over everything, never stopping at any one place for more than a second. When he looks to me, it’s just the same. He has no interest in me or anything else.
After his eyes go around the room, he looks down to his jacket. His hands lift from the countertop and then slide down into the pockets of his jacket. I see him smile as he feels over his jacket and digs around inside the pockets. Seconds later he pulls out a keychain with a few keys on the end and then grasps them tightly in the palm of his right hand.
The wolf spins around on the stool and stands up. He then quickly begins towards the front door, his eyes moving gently around the room as he walks. Although he smiles gently, his muzzle hangs open just a tad as he looks around. He seems like he has no clue where he is. As he passes me, I look back to my cup of coffee so that he won’t look down to me. But when he passes, I look back up to him.
He quickly goes to the glass front door and then out. He follows the building around and begins to walk up the sidewalk that runs right in front of the glass windows in front of the restaurant. As he is outside, he begins to look up to the sky and all around as if he’s never seen it before. It’s actually quite strange. I stare at him as he walks and even as he passes me by, knowing he won’t look at me anyways.
When he goes by me, he finally goes out of sight. I try to follow him further with my eyes, but, the angle doesn’t let me. I look away from the window and down at my coffee. I lift it from the table and take another sip, noticing that I’ve barely touched it since I got here. I guess I’ve just had too much to think about to enjoy the coffee.
That wolf seemed really odd. First he has some kind of seizure that makes it seem like he was epileptic or something and then he begins to act as if he’s never seen anything before in his entire life. I don’t know. Maybe this is some kind of theatrics like the fist fighting teens. But, it looked too strange to be some sort of show. I just don’t know.
I suck down almost all of the coffee within the next twenty minutes, while trying to entertain myself by looking out the window and thinking of this place and of that wolf and the two teens and other things. After awhile, it looks as if the sun is beginning to go down. I check my watch and see that it is pretty late. I could go back to the hotel and stay in that big, fancy hotel room.
Or, then again, I could stay here and wander around or go to another island and spend the night there. These places aren’t just some amusement park, they’re almost like real life. I could find an employee and ask to stay with him in one of those houses or go to one of those fake-as-hell motor hotels on the east side of the island, where a drive-in movie theater, a drive-in burger joint and several other attractions are.
Suddenly I hear a door open. I turn and see the horse that was manning the counter come out of the back. I noticed that he had disappeared for awhile, as did most of the people that were wandering the street. It was almost odd. As I look to him, I see that he isn’t too happy.
He walks to the counter and puts his large hands down onto the countertop. Then he leans across and looks to me, his brow furrowed and his lips pulled downwards. His ears fold back and he begins to stare at me. I suck down the rest of my coffee, feeling that I should be going. I don’t know what it is, but, I feel like I suddenly am not welcome anymore.
“You have to get outta here, lady. Now!” The horse says sternly, angrily.
“Yes sir.” I say quietly.
“Just leave the cup, I’ll get it later.” He says angrily.
I take my hands from the cup and scoot from the booth seat. I then stand up and begin towards the front door. As I walk towards the front door, I glance secretly over my shoulder, looking to the bartender. He stands up straight and watches me, his arms crossed, as I go.
But as I near the door, he uncrosses his arms and turns away from me. He then begins to wipe the countertop while looking at me out of the corner of his eyes. I move a bit slower and finally, as I near the front door itself and push it open, sounding the bell, I next to stop. I put one paw out of the door and twist my ears around to listen.
“Good for nothing foreigner,” I hear the horse say, “they’re all damned Commies, I swear to God.”
I step out of the door and then let it shut gently. I turn to the right and begin to walk around the front of the diner. As I walk along the windowed front of the diner, I look through the windows and see the bartender eyeing me over again, angrily from the looks of it.
I quicken my pace and get out of sight of the bartender as quickly as I possibly can. As I go out of sight, I slow down and then look to the sidewalk under my paws. I wonder what the hell that was all about. He was really kind to me earlier. Then, suddenly he hated me and wanted me out. It looked more like he wanted to lynch me, by the looks of it.
I lift my head and look across the street to where the stores are. I see furs in the stores and on the sidewalk. They all look like employees. Moreover, it looks like they all want to lynch me. They each stare at me while not moving at all, their brows furrowed and their hands balled into fists.
“What’s going on?” I whisper to myself.
I continue to walk along the sidewalk, glancing across the street to where those stores are every so often. I see all the people, all those employees in character, looking at me as if I were some kind of monster. Finally I look away, up to an odd-looking building to my right. It’s a drive-in diner.
“Foreigner.” I hear a voice say.
“Damned Communist.” Another says.
I hear footsteps and look over my shoulder. I see three men dressed in varsity jackets, the tiger that I saw earlier being one of them, walking along the sidewalk. One has a tire iron in his hands. I look away and take a deep breath. I feel my heart begin to race as fast as it can.
“Who do they think they are?” Someone whispers.
I turn and look across the street. I see a gang of four greasers standing by a car. They each look to me as they lean on the car, each with a knife in his hand. They stare at me as if they are waiting for a good moment to jump and kill me. What the hell is going on here, I wonder as I look away from them.
I turn my head and look into the drive-in diner and see that the lot is packed with cars, but, that nobody is in the cars. Looking over my shoulder, I see the gang of three football players nearing me. I then swing my head around and look across the street. The gang of greasers step away from the car and begin across the street.
I gasp and then turn into the lot filled with cars. I walk forward, looking for a place to hide that isn’t too obvious. To my left is a line of cars, to my right the back of the diner I just came out of. I hear the sound of footsteps behind me, getting ever louder and more numerous by the second, and look around more desperately.
I begin to walk gently to the left, towards the line of cars beneath the large, metal canopy. As soon as I round the back of a large, Chevy station wagon, I dash behind it and kneel down. As soon as I am kneeled down, I hear the slow footsteps turn quick. I gasp and rush forward and begin up the line of cars in front of them.
“Get her!” A cry comes out.
“Kill the Communist!”
“Burn her, burn the foreigner!”
“Oh, God.” I say to myself.
I keep low, hoping that my sneakers will hide my position and that my short hair and dark jacket will keep me from being spotted. Even though I hope I won’t be spotted, I continue forward as quickly as I can. I pass car after car parked along a sidewalk beneath a bright canopy.
As I begin to hear the footsteps get closer and closer, I figure I can’t keep this up. Finally, I simply pick a car and go down the small aisle between two large metal bodies. I go to the driver’s side door of a red and white 1957 Chevrolet 210 and open it quietly. I then step into the car and put myself quickly across the front seats and center console inside as I pull shut the door behind me.
I push myself away from the door and hold myself steady, trying not even to breathe, daring not to even make another sound. I know that those furs have heard the sound of the slamming door and are sure to come and search for me here. Hopefully, if I’m quiet enough, I won’t be caught.
I push myself almost entirely across the front seats of the car in order to make myself less visible. I then hold myself still and hold my breath, looking into the cream-colored passenger-side door as I lie on my stomach. My ears flip around and I listen intently for the sound of footsteps.
Sure enough, not thirty seconds later, the sound of heavy footsteps comes towards the car. I close my eyes and cover my head with one arm, covering my muzzle with the other, and pray that I won’t be caught. I hear the footsteps come towards the front of the vehicle from the back, moving along the driver’s side of the car.
I open my eyes gently as I hear the footsteps slow to a stop. I see the door before me and gasp quietly as I see a shadow block out the low sunlight that is coming through the window. I look to the shadow and breathe heavily, my heart pounding out of fear. I swallow hard and finally just close my eyes, hoping it will be over soon.
Suddenly I hear a metal banging sound somewhere far off, as if somebody were trying to climb over a chain link fence. I open my eyes and look to the shadow. After a few seconds, I hear loud sets of footsteps and then, seconds later, the shadow bolts off away from the car.
I listen as the heavy footsteps go away from the car, accompanied by angry cries from all those furs. After nearly twenty seconds, I hear several more of that metal banging sound as those furs leap that fence as well. Then all is silent and all is still. I hold myself still for even longer, though, fearing that one may still be near.
After nearly a full minute of lying in silence, I drop my arms and take a deep, relaxing breath. I push myself onto my back and then sit up. I put my paws against the driver’s side door and then raise one hand to my forehead and push my hair out of my eyes.
“Jesus Christ, what the hell was that about?” I ask myself, loudly.
I cover my eyes and then sit in silence, breathing loudly. I cough several times and clear my throat. As I take another deep breath, I suddenly hold myself still. An odd sound hits my ears. It sounds like a little growl. But not an angry growl. It sounds playful, like a pup’s play growl.
Suddenly I hear it again, only louder. It sounds like it’s right beside me. I take a deep breath and turn my head to the left. I look into the back of the car and suddenly push away from the seat, seeing something frightening in the back seat. I let out a loud howl and bang into the console, turning on the AM/FM radio.
“I left my home in Norfolk, Virginia, California on my mind . . .” Elvis sings from the radio.
I turn around and quickly slam around, trying to turn off the radio and silence the noise. After what seems like the longest time, I finally kill the radio. I look away from the radio and into the back seat. What lies there is something so frightening I’m sure I’d have pissed myself if I hadn’t enough control.
A fur lies there. A wolf, actually. He lies in the backseat with a blue blanket covering his body. A large pillow is underneath his head and he holds onto a second pillow between his arms. A pair of jeans lie on the floor of the car, a leather jacket as well as a pair of motorcycle harness boots.
“Oh my God.” I say to myself quietly. “It’s one of them.”
I’m right, it is one of them. But, for whatever reason, this employee doesn’t move. I look to him and see that his eyes aren’t open. He’s asleep. I take a deep breath and then let my head roll back. I look up to the ceiling of the car and take another relaxing breath. Then I lift my head and look at the wolf.
“He’s asleep.” I say.
Suddenly the wolf bites down onto the pillow he holds to his chest and body. He smiles and shakes it around as if he’s having a dream where he’s playing with somebody. After awhile he licks the pillow and then rubs his head up against it. I smile a little bit. At least I know that he won’t hurt me. In fact, I think I could hurt him more than he could me.
I lean forward and look a little closer at his face. He’s familiar, really familiar. As he lifts his head from the pillow in his sleep, I notice that he has no hair on top of his head, just fur. It’s that guy that I saw have that epileptic fit earlier in the diner. So this is where he went: to go sleep in his car.
I sit forward and look at him closely. I smile wide and look at his face. He pushes his head into the pillow beneath his head and then squeezes the pillow he has between his arms against his chest. His mouth closes and he relaxes again. I guess his dream died down in excitement a little bit.
I lean between the two front bucket seats and look at the wolf directly in the face, but keeping my collie muzzle away from him. I don’t want him to wake up. Though, I do doubt that he would hurt me. It’s a bit funny, I don’t hear him breathing at all. I lean forward and then put out my right hand.
I put the palm pad of my right hand in front of his nose and hold it there, trying to feel his breath. I don’t see his chest rising or falling and I don’t hear him breathing. And after a few seconds, I don’t feel him breathing. Is he dead? Suddenly the wolf grunts and groans in his sleep and rolls onto his back and I pull my hand back in shock.
Seconds later, I see his eyes flutter. I gasp and pull myself back away from him. He drops the pillow he had against his chest to the floor and his eyes open up gently. His mouth opens a bit and his tongue licks out over his mouth. He pulls his hand up to his head and then drops it to his chest. It isn’t moments later that his eyes turn in my direction.
“Who are you?” He asks gently.
I push away from him in fear, my tail wrapping up between my legs. I look to him and see that he doesn’t even move anymore than moving his head around and looking to me with his eyes. I feel my jaw open and my eyelids as wide as they’ve ever been before. After realizing how I look, I close my jaw and try to calm myself down.
“Anne . . . who are you?” I say to him.
The wolf smiles a little bit, his brow lifting happily.
“My name’s Jack.” He says to me happily.
I think I chose the right car to hide in.