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The Rise of the Raccoon Queen
Or The Big Grey Fluffy Butt Matter
A Story of Faerie
© 2020 by M. Mitchell Marmel
(Additional characters by E.O. Costello and W.D. Reimer.)
Thumbnail art by
tegerio, color and background by 
Major Matt Mason
Part Nineteen.
Winterbough:
It’s widely known that Elfhamian bucks like to talk.
[Note appended to manuscript: “Or they know some femme who’s been ravished by your grandsire.”]
[Note appended to manuscript: “You’re going to be VERY helpful today, aren’t you? Now, please shaddap.”]
Anyway, we bucks like to talk, and it’s a rare thing when I’m struck speechless.
[Note appended to manuscript: “Which makes it something to savor when it happens.”]
[Note appended to manuscript: “Did I tell you to shaddap?”]
[Note appended to manuscript: “Yes, you did. Elves Don’t Lie, but are you expecting me to obey you?”]
Anyway.
The closer we got to Eastness, through farms and outlying villages, I was amazed by what had been done and what had happened since Alastair went to the Netherhells. For starters, everything was clean; there was no sign of the muddy fens and quagmires all over the place, and the skies were clear apart from a few fleecy clouds. The fields were well-tended and all the homes and buildings looked to be in excellent shape.
Another thing, there were children. I never saw many children the last time I was in Eastness, and those I did were either sick or dying, like poor little Sunny. The Wolf Queen healed her, and I am very happy to have her in my household. But all of the children I was seeing now were healthy and happy.
While I watched the scenery go past, I asked, “Why isn’t anyone panicking at the sight of an ant-less cart like this?”
“SEP field,” Matt replied.
“Beg pardon? ‘Sep?’”
“No, S-E-P,” Michael said. “It stands for ‘Someone Else’s Problem.’ It’s a sort of perception filter; costs almost nothing to set up and draws hardly any power.” The mink winked at me. “Cheap and dirty invisibility.”
Fred chimed in. “It plays on a person’s ability to not see something that they can’t explain. Here, I’ll show you,” and he stood up on his seat and whistled at a lovely young canine femme who was tending a vegetable stand by the road. I saw Matt’s paw run over a set of switches on the cart’s dashboard as the canine shouted, “HEY! HEY, SWEET THING! LET’S SEE ‘EM!”
An overripe tomato smacked him dead in the face.
He sat back down and glared at Matt. “Very funny.” He started wiping tomato off his muzzle.
“Serves you right,” the bear said as he touched the switches again, and somehow we became inexplicably invisible once more.
“Funny,” Michael said. “Aren't beads supposed to be thrown?”
“Elves are quite adept at throwing or shooting things,” I said.
From the driver’s position Matt said, “He's never quite got the hang of Mardi Gras. Comes from getting smashed on Shirley Temples.”
“LIES!” the mink shouted. I had little idea what the arguing was about, so I just kept looking around.
Eastness itself was scrubbed clean, with few remaining signs of the Reign of the Ospreys. The Royal Remains Society, which I had seen in flaming ruins the last time I was here, was completely gone. In its place was a broad expanse of grassy park with trees and flowerbeds. Personally, I thought it was a great improvement.
I noticed we appeared to be driving around the city rather aimlessly, with all three of my cohorts craning their necks and looking around. “What are you lot looking for?” I asked.
“DelFurrio’s,” Matt said.
“Ah,” I said, none the wiser.
We abruptly swerved to avoid hitting a group of children and Matt said, “I’d better pay closer attention. Ease up, guys; it knows we’re looking for it, and it’ll show up when it decides we really need to see it.”
That actually sounded rather Elf-ly.
The Temple of the Brilliant Light caught my attention. The foul pit that it had been slowly subsiding into was gone, replaced by green grass and beds of colorful flowers, and work was still progressing on the fane itself. I was very pleased to see that the statue of Princess Grace of Sulfrox had been moved out of the church and placed in front of the entrance, where it would be touched by the sunlight every day.
I resolved to tell the Princess when I returned to Elfhame.
We rounded a corner to go into the main square and my jaw fell open. “What the Netherhells is THAT?” I shouted, and the others in the cart turned.
The Aerie, Alastair’s palace, had collapsed as the Wolf Queen and I left Eastness. It had been carted away, and another park sat in its place. This was, in my judgement, an appropriate use of the real estate.
What wasn’t appropriate was the statue in the dead center of the grass sward. On a tall plinth was the much larger than life likeness of the Wolf Queen, Sun-and-Moon in her right paw, and holding the severed head of Alastair, Sixth of his name and Sixty-sixth (and last, thank the Lady) of his line, in her left paw.
And no sign of me, who had actually done the vanquishing.
Suddenly the car squealed, “Cor lummey, Guv’nor! What’re you tryin’ to do, rip up my seats? It’s a good thing you ain’t got no claws.”
My ears went down and I shrank back in my seat as the others turned to look at me.
[Note appended to manuscript: “Jealous much?”]
[Note appended to manuscript: “Shaddap.”]
***
Jhonni:
Expense report addendum: thirty stars for dinner and beer at Geffert’s Pub.
After I left Strangely’s, I just walked around until the sun started to set. Never hurts to look around, and I hadn’t been in this part of town for a while. I had to think over what Strangely told me, and nothing helps me think like walking. Geffert’s Pub is still open, and his wife makes a mean leaf frittata, so I decided to stop in for dinner.
The frittata was just as good as I recall, and so’s the beer. It was so good, in fact, that I almost forgot to ask for a receipt.
Almost.
I was still eating when a short, dumpy shadow fell over me.
I didn’t bother to look up. “Hello, Quill. How’s tricks?”
“I oughta run you in, Dinar.”
Detective Quillian Fletcher, boys and girls, Eastness Corps of Gendarmes. A fussy little ptarmigan who’s an on-again, off-again friend of mine. Sort of rule-bound, but he’s a good egg. Hard boiled, you know.
So how, I hear you ask, did he manage to loom over me? He was standing on a chair.
“For what, Detective? Here, have a seat.” I caught Geffert looking at me, and I gave him a glare. I paid extra to eat in private.
Quill took a seat and gestured for a beer. “Suspicion of murther, for a start.”
My ears perked. “Murther? Who, may I ask?”
“Strangely Brown,” the bird said. “He tried to fly out his window, but only got as far as the pavement.” His beak twisted a bit. “You were the last one to see him.”
“No, I wasn’t.” He blinked. “Look, Quill, Elves Don’t Lie, and while I loved Strangely like a brother I didn’t love him like one of mine. I may have been the last mook to be seen with him, but I’m not a fan of defenestrations – unless you count postball players.” I swear by the Light, my team must have been the only thing not improved by a sudden lack of Ospreys. “Now, if it’s a bowler you want offed – “
“Oh, hush your yap or I’ll add a vagrancy charge.” Quill got his beer and took a long pull at it, slurping noisily. “So, no murther?”
“By the Light, no.”
“Nertz. I’d get a promotion if I brought in a murtherer.” He squinted up at me. “You sure?”
“Uh huh.”
“Nertz. What brings you all the way over here, anyway?”
I shrugged. “Asking around. Strangely was the only hound who knew anything.” And, needless to say, I now had what I needed to know. If these mooks were willing to kill a harmless old dog like Strangely, it was a good solid cinch that they’d stop at nothing.
Quill finished his beer and drew a feathered paw across his beak. “Still playin’ ‘em close, huh Jhonni? I’m keeping half an eye on you,” and he walked out.
Stuck me with the bill for his beer.
Darkness take him.
***
Tessie:
Ew . . .
Never mind that now. Turn and face the townsfolk, and just do it like I told you.
The Regalia had been around a lot longer than me, so I turned to face villagers and held Sun-and-Moon up. “The, um, Raccoon Queen fights for, well, the oppressed, and for Justice! Evil Reg’s reign over you is over! You are free! . . . I suppose.”
Yeah, I have my work cut out for me to make you into a proper hero.
A few of the villagers shuffled their feet and looked at each other. A few glanced over at Ooo-er, who smiled and nodded encouragingly.
One stepped forward. “So, you’re not taking over?”
“Nope.”
Such soaring rhetoric.
Look you, I’m a maid. Want a sheet folded, I’m your girl. I’m doing my best here.
Believe me, I know.
I put Sun-and-Moon back in my Elfintory. “You are free to live your own lives now, with none to oppress you.”
Better.
A little raccoon girl toddled up to me, and she just looked so cute that I knelt and gave her a hug.
People started cheering then.
Nice touch, the Regalia said. Now, before the body gets too cold or they haul him off, I need you to get the necklace he’s got on.
EW!
Yeah, I know, already. But the ring’s a part of me that I’ve missed for far too long, and I need it.
There was blood everywhere, and I didn’t want to get my paws dirty, so I drew my knife, Comet, from my Elfintory in order to cut the thong holding the ring.
Yeah, ‘my’ knife. It looked like the Regalia and I were stuck with each other for a while – besides, I just liberated a village, and that made me feel good.
I fished around with the point, cut the thong, and hoisted it out of the mess by the point. Comet promptly burst into flames and cleaned the blood off the ring. That was certainly convenient, and I looked at the thing before I put it on.
***
Ooo-er:
People started cheering as Tessie – I mean, the Raccoon Queen – announced that they were free. For a brief moment, there was something about her pose and her voice that reminded me so much about my lovely and loving wolfess that I felt like crying.
The villagers thronged around us, and one of them cried, “Open the storehouses!” A bunch of burly mels gathered up tools and headed down a side alley.
Several women waited for me to get off the cart before giving me a hug, and I asked, “What’s in the storehouses?”
“Evil Reg,” and the squirrel femme turned her head and spat, “and his ruffians were stealing our food, even the fodder for the ants, and stuffing it all into a few really big buildings. I’m Daisy, by the way.”
“Ooo-er,” I said. “What was he doing with it all?”
Daisy shrugged. “Nobody knew. He’d amuse himself by taking some of the femmes for his ‘harem,’ as he put it, and forcing us to sing to him.”
“Well, I don’t think he’ll be bothering anyone, ever again.”
“Nope!” the squirrel chirped happily. “Thanks to the Raccoon Queen.” She ran off to greet her family.
I’m pretty sure at least one villager had already started composing a ballad. If Tessie gave the armor back to my wife, it might cause problems.
I looked for Tessie, and I saw her walking back to the cart. “Well done,” I said.
She looked a little weary and distracted. “Thanks, I guess.” She leaned against the cart and looked up at me. “You know something?”
“What?”
“Being a hero is hard,” she said, and sighed.
The villagers were happy to let us put Kora and Veyt up in a vacant ant-stable, and the two red ants acted like they appreciated not having to sleep rough for a change. Tessie and I, on the other paw, were invited to a feast after we’d had time for a bath and a nap, something we both welcomed.
The celebration that night would have done my own people proud, and we can put on a feast with the best. There wasn’t much fish, to be sure, but what they had they eagerly shared with me. There was bread and cakes, various meat and vegetable dishes, all washed down with beer (it seemed that Evil Reg and his goons had drunk all of the wine and aqua vitae).
Speaking of that bear, he and his cronies were laid to rest in a mass grave outside of town. I thought that the music accompanying them was maybe just a little inappropriate.
“What that?” I asked Daisy, who was serving a green, spear-like vegetable wrapped in a thin slice of ham to Tessie.
“Asparagus, wrapped in ham,” Daisy replied. “It’s not always available, so it’s a treat.” Tessie tried one, suddenly smiled, and ate the rest of it. At Daisy’s urging, I tried one.
Bit salty.
<NEXT>
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST>
Or The Big Grey Fluffy Butt Matter
A Story of Faerie
© 2020 by M. Mitchell Marmel
(Additional characters by E.O. Costello and W.D. Reimer.)
Thumbnail art by
tegerio, color and background by 
Major Matt MasonPart Nineteen.
Winterbough:
It’s widely known that Elfhamian bucks like to talk.
[Note appended to manuscript: “Or they know some femme who’s been ravished by your grandsire.”]
[Note appended to manuscript: “You’re going to be VERY helpful today, aren’t you? Now, please shaddap.”]
Anyway, we bucks like to talk, and it’s a rare thing when I’m struck speechless.
[Note appended to manuscript: “Which makes it something to savor when it happens.”]
[Note appended to manuscript: “Did I tell you to shaddap?”]
[Note appended to manuscript: “Yes, you did. Elves Don’t Lie, but are you expecting me to obey you?”]
Anyway.
The closer we got to Eastness, through farms and outlying villages, I was amazed by what had been done and what had happened since Alastair went to the Netherhells. For starters, everything was clean; there was no sign of the muddy fens and quagmires all over the place, and the skies were clear apart from a few fleecy clouds. The fields were well-tended and all the homes and buildings looked to be in excellent shape.
Another thing, there were children. I never saw many children the last time I was in Eastness, and those I did were either sick or dying, like poor little Sunny. The Wolf Queen healed her, and I am very happy to have her in my household. But all of the children I was seeing now were healthy and happy.
While I watched the scenery go past, I asked, “Why isn’t anyone panicking at the sight of an ant-less cart like this?”
“SEP field,” Matt replied.
“Beg pardon? ‘Sep?’”
“No, S-E-P,” Michael said. “It stands for ‘Someone Else’s Problem.’ It’s a sort of perception filter; costs almost nothing to set up and draws hardly any power.” The mink winked at me. “Cheap and dirty invisibility.”
Fred chimed in. “It plays on a person’s ability to not see something that they can’t explain. Here, I’ll show you,” and he stood up on his seat and whistled at a lovely young canine femme who was tending a vegetable stand by the road. I saw Matt’s paw run over a set of switches on the cart’s dashboard as the canine shouted, “HEY! HEY, SWEET THING! LET’S SEE ‘EM!”
An overripe tomato smacked him dead in the face.
He sat back down and glared at Matt. “Very funny.” He started wiping tomato off his muzzle.
“Serves you right,” the bear said as he touched the switches again, and somehow we became inexplicably invisible once more.
“Funny,” Michael said. “Aren't beads supposed to be thrown?”
“Elves are quite adept at throwing or shooting things,” I said.
From the driver’s position Matt said, “He's never quite got the hang of Mardi Gras. Comes from getting smashed on Shirley Temples.”
“LIES!” the mink shouted. I had little idea what the arguing was about, so I just kept looking around.
Eastness itself was scrubbed clean, with few remaining signs of the Reign of the Ospreys. The Royal Remains Society, which I had seen in flaming ruins the last time I was here, was completely gone. In its place was a broad expanse of grassy park with trees and flowerbeds. Personally, I thought it was a great improvement.
I noticed we appeared to be driving around the city rather aimlessly, with all three of my cohorts craning their necks and looking around. “What are you lot looking for?” I asked.
“DelFurrio’s,” Matt said.
“Ah,” I said, none the wiser.
We abruptly swerved to avoid hitting a group of children and Matt said, “I’d better pay closer attention. Ease up, guys; it knows we’re looking for it, and it’ll show up when it decides we really need to see it.”
That actually sounded rather Elf-ly.
The Temple of the Brilliant Light caught my attention. The foul pit that it had been slowly subsiding into was gone, replaced by green grass and beds of colorful flowers, and work was still progressing on the fane itself. I was very pleased to see that the statue of Princess Grace of Sulfrox had been moved out of the church and placed in front of the entrance, where it would be touched by the sunlight every day.
I resolved to tell the Princess when I returned to Elfhame.
We rounded a corner to go into the main square and my jaw fell open. “What the Netherhells is THAT?” I shouted, and the others in the cart turned.
The Aerie, Alastair’s palace, had collapsed as the Wolf Queen and I left Eastness. It had been carted away, and another park sat in its place. This was, in my judgement, an appropriate use of the real estate.
What wasn’t appropriate was the statue in the dead center of the grass sward. On a tall plinth was the much larger than life likeness of the Wolf Queen, Sun-and-Moon in her right paw, and holding the severed head of Alastair, Sixth of his name and Sixty-sixth (and last, thank the Lady) of his line, in her left paw.
And no sign of me, who had actually done the vanquishing.
Suddenly the car squealed, “Cor lummey, Guv’nor! What’re you tryin’ to do, rip up my seats? It’s a good thing you ain’t got no claws.”
My ears went down and I shrank back in my seat as the others turned to look at me.
[Note appended to manuscript: “Jealous much?”]
[Note appended to manuscript: “Shaddap.”]
***
Jhonni:
Expense report addendum: thirty stars for dinner and beer at Geffert’s Pub.
After I left Strangely’s, I just walked around until the sun started to set. Never hurts to look around, and I hadn’t been in this part of town for a while. I had to think over what Strangely told me, and nothing helps me think like walking. Geffert’s Pub is still open, and his wife makes a mean leaf frittata, so I decided to stop in for dinner.
The frittata was just as good as I recall, and so’s the beer. It was so good, in fact, that I almost forgot to ask for a receipt.
Almost.
I was still eating when a short, dumpy shadow fell over me.
I didn’t bother to look up. “Hello, Quill. How’s tricks?”
“I oughta run you in, Dinar.”
Detective Quillian Fletcher, boys and girls, Eastness Corps of Gendarmes. A fussy little ptarmigan who’s an on-again, off-again friend of mine. Sort of rule-bound, but he’s a good egg. Hard boiled, you know.
So how, I hear you ask, did he manage to loom over me? He was standing on a chair.
“For what, Detective? Here, have a seat.” I caught Geffert looking at me, and I gave him a glare. I paid extra to eat in private.
Quill took a seat and gestured for a beer. “Suspicion of murther, for a start.”
My ears perked. “Murther? Who, may I ask?”
“Strangely Brown,” the bird said. “He tried to fly out his window, but only got as far as the pavement.” His beak twisted a bit. “You were the last one to see him.”
“No, I wasn’t.” He blinked. “Look, Quill, Elves Don’t Lie, and while I loved Strangely like a brother I didn’t love him like one of mine. I may have been the last mook to be seen with him, but I’m not a fan of defenestrations – unless you count postball players.” I swear by the Light, my team must have been the only thing not improved by a sudden lack of Ospreys. “Now, if it’s a bowler you want offed – “
“Oh, hush your yap or I’ll add a vagrancy charge.” Quill got his beer and took a long pull at it, slurping noisily. “So, no murther?”
“By the Light, no.”
“Nertz. I’d get a promotion if I brought in a murtherer.” He squinted up at me. “You sure?”
“Uh huh.”
“Nertz. What brings you all the way over here, anyway?”
I shrugged. “Asking around. Strangely was the only hound who knew anything.” And, needless to say, I now had what I needed to know. If these mooks were willing to kill a harmless old dog like Strangely, it was a good solid cinch that they’d stop at nothing.
Quill finished his beer and drew a feathered paw across his beak. “Still playin’ ‘em close, huh Jhonni? I’m keeping half an eye on you,” and he walked out.
Stuck me with the bill for his beer.
Darkness take him.
***
Tessie:
Ew . . .
Never mind that now. Turn and face the townsfolk, and just do it like I told you.
The Regalia had been around a lot longer than me, so I turned to face villagers and held Sun-and-Moon up. “The, um, Raccoon Queen fights for, well, the oppressed, and for Justice! Evil Reg’s reign over you is over! You are free! . . . I suppose.”
Yeah, I have my work cut out for me to make you into a proper hero.
A few of the villagers shuffled their feet and looked at each other. A few glanced over at Ooo-er, who smiled and nodded encouragingly.
One stepped forward. “So, you’re not taking over?”
“Nope.”
Such soaring rhetoric.
Look you, I’m a maid. Want a sheet folded, I’m your girl. I’m doing my best here.
Believe me, I know.
I put Sun-and-Moon back in my Elfintory. “You are free to live your own lives now, with none to oppress you.”
Better.
A little raccoon girl toddled up to me, and she just looked so cute that I knelt and gave her a hug.
People started cheering then.
Nice touch, the Regalia said. Now, before the body gets too cold or they haul him off, I need you to get the necklace he’s got on.
EW!
Yeah, I know, already. But the ring’s a part of me that I’ve missed for far too long, and I need it.
There was blood everywhere, and I didn’t want to get my paws dirty, so I drew my knife, Comet, from my Elfintory in order to cut the thong holding the ring.
Yeah, ‘my’ knife. It looked like the Regalia and I were stuck with each other for a while – besides, I just liberated a village, and that made me feel good.
I fished around with the point, cut the thong, and hoisted it out of the mess by the point. Comet promptly burst into flames and cleaned the blood off the ring. That was certainly convenient, and I looked at the thing before I put it on.
***
Ooo-er:
People started cheering as Tessie – I mean, the Raccoon Queen – announced that they were free. For a brief moment, there was something about her pose and her voice that reminded me so much about my lovely and loving wolfess that I felt like crying.
The villagers thronged around us, and one of them cried, “Open the storehouses!” A bunch of burly mels gathered up tools and headed down a side alley.
Several women waited for me to get off the cart before giving me a hug, and I asked, “What’s in the storehouses?”
“Evil Reg,” and the squirrel femme turned her head and spat, “and his ruffians were stealing our food, even the fodder for the ants, and stuffing it all into a few really big buildings. I’m Daisy, by the way.”
“Ooo-er,” I said. “What was he doing with it all?”
Daisy shrugged. “Nobody knew. He’d amuse himself by taking some of the femmes for his ‘harem,’ as he put it, and forcing us to sing to him.”
“Well, I don’t think he’ll be bothering anyone, ever again.”
“Nope!” the squirrel chirped happily. “Thanks to the Raccoon Queen.” She ran off to greet her family.
I’m pretty sure at least one villager had already started composing a ballad. If Tessie gave the armor back to my wife, it might cause problems.
I looked for Tessie, and I saw her walking back to the cart. “Well done,” I said.
She looked a little weary and distracted. “Thanks, I guess.” She leaned against the cart and looked up at me. “You know something?”
“What?”
“Being a hero is hard,” she said, and sighed.
The villagers were happy to let us put Kora and Veyt up in a vacant ant-stable, and the two red ants acted like they appreciated not having to sleep rough for a change. Tessie and I, on the other paw, were invited to a feast after we’d had time for a bath and a nap, something we both welcomed.
The celebration that night would have done my own people proud, and we can put on a feast with the best. There wasn’t much fish, to be sure, but what they had they eagerly shared with me. There was bread and cakes, various meat and vegetable dishes, all washed down with beer (it seemed that Evil Reg and his goons had drunk all of the wine and aqua vitae).
Speaking of that bear, he and his cronies were laid to rest in a mass grave outside of town. I thought that the music accompanying them was maybe just a little inappropriate.
“What that?” I asked Daisy, who was serving a green, spear-like vegetable wrapped in a thin slice of ham to Tessie.
“Asparagus, wrapped in ham,” Daisy replied. “It’s not always available, so it’s a treat.” Tessie tried one, suddenly smiled, and ate the rest of it. At Daisy’s urging, I tried one.
Bit salty.
<NEXT>
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST>
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Raccoon
Size 750 x 1280px
File Size 817.2 kB
Listed in Folders
At least it wasn't Entry of the Gladiators... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HqIY3NfoYvw
"What wasn’t appropriate was the statue in the dead center of the grass sward of the Wolf Queen with replicant and removable Regalia!"
"'Ew . . .' said Tessie, as out of the neck-stump of Evil Reg came a veritable fountain of that fizzy brown liquid. Next to that neck was a tag or a tab which somehow begged to be pressed. Tessie trepidatiously did so; for as long as she held it down, the dark spray was replaced by clear water alone."
Comet sounds like a fine weapon! Probably less of an egomaniac than Sting, at that.
As for the Not-Evil Reggie: I don't think she needs to be that much of a rhetorical Procrustes! I mean... as much as I love flowery language, if somebody answers "Nope" without hesitation to "Do you want power?" I'm more likely to believe that than silver-tongued words from some Saruman figure.
"'Ew . . .' said Tessie, as out of the neck-stump of Evil Reg came a veritable fountain of that fizzy brown liquid. Next to that neck was a tag or a tab which somehow begged to be pressed. Tessie trepidatiously did so; for as long as she held it down, the dark spray was replaced by clear water alone."
Comet sounds like a fine weapon! Probably less of an egomaniac than Sting, at that.
As for the Not-Evil Reggie: I don't think she needs to be that much of a rhetorical Procrustes! I mean... as much as I love flowery language, if somebody answers "Nope" without hesitation to "Do you want power?" I'm more likely to believe that than silver-tongued words from some Saruman figure.
Ah, well, we're talking Elves here. Elves will charge into battle, sword swinging, while singing songs or chanting poetry at the top of their lungs. Flowery language is an Elf's stock in trade (witness 
EOCostello's Elfhmanian).
EOCostello's Elfhmanian).
Fair (har har) enough! I speak with sensibilities that are both Yoo-man and Cincinnatian... in both-both a Buckeye and a 'Cincinnatus' kinda sense.
On a tangent from Jud/Oklahoma: Luckily it sounds like the femmes in that town have a wider selection than just a creepy T-800 of a mel and a loudly-dressed 'n' passive-aggressive fop.
On the wider subject of questionably but probably appropriate funeral music, here's one I shared with the major a li'l while back under a different context:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4BUmv8imdH0
On a tangent from Jud/Oklahoma: Luckily it sounds like the femmes in that town have a wider selection than just a creepy T-800 of a mel and a loudly-dressed 'n' passive-aggressive fop.
On the wider subject of questionably but probably appropriate funeral music, here's one I shared with the major a li'l while back under a different context:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4BUmv8imdH0
At the risk of me being blacklisted from the Grown-up's Table forever, I have a follow-up:
https://www.furaffinity.net/view/42.....#cid:157433126
https://www.furaffinity.net/view/42.....#cid:157433126
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