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Family Matters
© 2022 by M. Mitch Marmel
Thumbnail art by
NX-42
Part Fifty-six
Matt:
Low narrowed her eyes at the vixen. “You are mistaken.”
The vulpine – nice figure on her – gave a slow, almost reptilian blink. “In what way am I mistaken?”
The mephitess raised a finger. “Not all can be ham,” and she smiled, “because some must be bacon.”
Mm, bacon.
A slowly raised eyebrow. “By its essence, bacon is ham.”
“True.” Low extended a paw. “Low-chan Mason-Hartoh.”
The vixen looked at the offered paw before taking it. “Zonya Wetcheeks. This,” and she glanced down at her cub, who was fastidiously licking his fingers, “is my son Dotsuo Iretsym. Or, rather, Dotsuo Iretsym Winterbough. Most furs will call him Dotto.” A fleeting ghost of a fond smile crossed her otherwise impassive features. “I worry sometimes that he isn’t eating enough.”
I allowed myself a moment to boggle at that statement. I had heard that Winterbough was at pains to make sure that no one in the Vale should go hungry, recalling his own youth, and what went for the inhabitants went the same for his extended family.
It also explained why I’d heard he was usually two minutes away from snatching himself bald over any additional expenses incurred by one cause or another. Regarding that, he shouldn’t have any worries about Tali’s and Missy’s kids. The Corps looks after its own, as well as dependents.
[Note appended to manuscript: “I’m not a member of your Corps.”]
[Note appended to manuscript: “I draw your attention to the word ‘dependents.’”]
[Note appended to manuscript: “I won’t be dependent on any mel, thank you very much.”]
[Note appended to manuscript: “See, Colonel? Like I told you, she can sell stubborn to people.”]
[Note appended to manuscript: “Pissy roebuck.”]
[Note appended to manuscript: “Pissy wolfess.”]
Tali had more mundane matters on her mind, and said to Dotto, “That sandwich looked delicious.”
Having licked his fingers clean, the youngster said, “Ho, yass, it vas.”
“Where did you get it?”
The question made the kid’s eyes gleam. He took off his monocle, cleaned it and stuck it back in his eye before launching into a long disquisition on which farm south of Greytor the feral pigs were raised, how the meat was smoked (oak, maple and persimmon, in a 3:2:1 ratio), and the care the bakers put into making the bread.
It was almost mesmerizing, but luckily I’ve been vaccinated against that. I shook it off as Zonya said to Low, “You are not one of the Royal Skunks.”
“That’s correct. I’m not from around – “
“Here, yes. I am certain that your presence is all part of the Great Plan.” Without elaborating on this, she said, “I was headed back home. Would you like some tea?” My wives nodded, and I tagged along behind the group as we made our way through the village to a house that stood on a low hill, set quite a bit apart from the others.
Zonya stopped, ears swiveling, and she turned to me. “You are not welcome.”
“Me? Why?” I asked.
The vixen’s reply was a bit odd. She merely took a jump to the left, but with no accompanying step to the right.
I saw an indistinct doe-shaped blur.
And for the second time today, I got hit with something.
Right in the mush, too.
Not quite sure what it was, really. It had the consistency of pudding, had the absolutely disgusting taste of insulating gelatin, and it was a translucent green – but minus the sliced olives and pineapple chunks I recall from those really awkward family reunion dinners when you’re urged to eat things that are to your eyes completely unnatural.
I heard Tali and Low-chan tittering, and as I wiped my eyes and spit the vile stuff out of my mouth, the sound receded until I heard feet on wooden steps and a door closing. When my vision cleared, I was quite alone.
I spit a few more times, huffed, “Fine, be that way,” and headed back to Tali’s mobile to get a shower.
Maybe two showers.
And some drinks.
And maybe short-sheet Tali’s bed.
***
Low:
Poor Matt.
Getting bowled over by a baby wyvern, and then getting some sort of otherworldly goop mashed in his mush, makes for a full day. With me and Tali giggling at him both times.
Of course, we’ll make it up to him. I wonder where Tali and I put those French maid costumes . . .
But I digress.
The home was as neat as a pin, and I confess that I’ve seen white rooms that felt less clean than this. Tali later assured me that it was a cultural thing, peculiar to Elfhame. Made sense, when you took into account the rainfall, snowfall, and springtime mud.
Zonya set the kettle on the stove and said to Dotto, “You may go and play.”
Her son grinned. “It iz tzo, Mama!” He saluted, shouted “Elfhame vincit!” and ran out.
Again, his mother gave his retreating form a very quiet smile before measuring out tea in the strainer.
“Your son is . . . interesting,” I observed.
“I am pleased that you think so,” the vixen replied. “If we were in Vulpitania, he would be well on his way to becoming a SALV.”
“’SALV?’”
“Studious and Learned Vulpine,” she replied. “He has an extensive knowledge of the culinary arts.”
“Really?” Tali asked, trying not to sound ironic.
If Zonya had picked up on that, she didn’t show it. “He was very pleased and proud of himself that he correctly divined what Una Sawyer would serve to her prospective mate.” The kettle started to sing, and she prepared the teapot before setting out cups and saucers. A plate of cookies completed the service, and she sat down with us.
A hazy outline of a doe hovered nearby, and I nodded politely to her. She returned my nod, and I noted Tali watching me. “What?”
“What?”
“What do you mean, ‘What?’ What are you looking at me like that for?”
“Well, so far you’ve met two ghosts,” my wife said, “this doe,” and she smiled at the specter, “and Princess Grace. You’re certainly taking it well.”
I smirked. “Tali, you know I don’t scare easily. I found Princess Grace to be a very charming person – “
“Royalty.”
“Pfui. Kings and queens, knights on white horses, - all these things mean nothing to me. They all put their pants on one leg at a time.”
Zonya was looking at us, her ears flicking. “Riding . . . horses? Don’t they object?”
“Oh. Um,” and I thought a moment. “Where we’re from, horses serve the same function as ants do here. Just like the ants, they are beasts, not intelligent persons.”
“How very odd,” the vixen said before sipping her tea.
“Anyway,” I said after drinking the last of my tea, “Grace was charming, a good conversationalist, and – BRAAPPPPP!”
I had leaned forward to refill my cup, and my belch made a nearby window rattle.
The ghostly doe looked impressed.
Zonya was gazing rather fixedly at me, and I said, “Excuse me.” I turned to say the same to Tali, but instead asked, “What?”
My wife was grinning from ear to ear. “Ooo-er said that if a femme belches after venery, it means she’s going to be pregnant.”
“If so,” Zonya said, “it is all part of the Plan.”
I flicked an ear as I finished refilling my tea. “What ‘Plan?’”
“The Great Plan,” the vixen said. “I was privileged to actually see it, in its fastness up in Lengra-cha. That was also part of the Plan.”
I glanced at Tali, who twitched her tail in what I had come to interpret as a shrug.
We spent a pleasant afternoon with Zonya and the ghost, and shortly afterward we were walking back to the mobile. On our way there, we passed Missy.
The wolfess had a bucket in her paws; a bucket in which something sloshed.
And it didn’t sound like water.
“Where are you going with that?” Tali asked her.
“I need to pay the Master back for a few things,” she said. Cryptic response? Perhaps, but the toothy grin on her muzzle spoke volumes.
We were apparently witnessing the latest exchange in an ongoing prank war, something I wanted no part of, and I told Tali so.
“Well, you can sit it out if you want, but I’m – “
“On medical restrictions.”
Her ears and tail drooped. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“You’re no fun,” she huffed.
We resumed walking back to the mobile and I said, “Look, you know better than I do what these people are capable of with their magic. Do you want to get caught in the middle of that?” Before she could reply I added, “Do you want her caught in the middle of that?”
“Missy – “
I shook my head. “Missy isn’t family, Tali; you are. And she’s from this alternity, and from what you’ve told me, she’s well able to handle herself in a fight.”
Tali grumped, “I hate it when you’re right.”
I slipped an arm around her shoulders, and she started to cheer up as I thought.
No, I hadn’t told Tali about what happened a few months ago. Matt and I had agreed that we’d break the news after she had her child. He’d gone back onto his Precautions after that.
Which is why I dismissed my wife’s joke about belching and pregnancy. Despite the fact that Matt and I had spent a rather strenuous night back before the Solstice (accounts differ; I say we did it seven times, and Matt insists it was only five), he was firing blanks.
So I put it all out of my mind.
<NEXT>
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST>
© 2022 by M. Mitch Marmel
Thumbnail art by
NX-42Part Fifty-six
Matt:
Low narrowed her eyes at the vixen. “You are mistaken.”
The vulpine – nice figure on her – gave a slow, almost reptilian blink. “In what way am I mistaken?”
The mephitess raised a finger. “Not all can be ham,” and she smiled, “because some must be bacon.”
Mm, bacon.
A slowly raised eyebrow. “By its essence, bacon is ham.”
“True.” Low extended a paw. “Low-chan Mason-Hartoh.”
The vixen looked at the offered paw before taking it. “Zonya Wetcheeks. This,” and she glanced down at her cub, who was fastidiously licking his fingers, “is my son Dotsuo Iretsym. Or, rather, Dotsuo Iretsym Winterbough. Most furs will call him Dotto.” A fleeting ghost of a fond smile crossed her otherwise impassive features. “I worry sometimes that he isn’t eating enough.”
I allowed myself a moment to boggle at that statement. I had heard that Winterbough was at pains to make sure that no one in the Vale should go hungry, recalling his own youth, and what went for the inhabitants went the same for his extended family.
It also explained why I’d heard he was usually two minutes away from snatching himself bald over any additional expenses incurred by one cause or another. Regarding that, he shouldn’t have any worries about Tali’s and Missy’s kids. The Corps looks after its own, as well as dependents.
[Note appended to manuscript: “I’m not a member of your Corps.”]
[Note appended to manuscript: “I draw your attention to the word ‘dependents.’”]
[Note appended to manuscript: “I won’t be dependent on any mel, thank you very much.”]
[Note appended to manuscript: “See, Colonel? Like I told you, she can sell stubborn to people.”]
[Note appended to manuscript: “Pissy roebuck.”]
[Note appended to manuscript: “Pissy wolfess.”]
Tali had more mundane matters on her mind, and said to Dotto, “That sandwich looked delicious.”
Having licked his fingers clean, the youngster said, “Ho, yass, it vas.”
“Where did you get it?”
The question made the kid’s eyes gleam. He took off his monocle, cleaned it and stuck it back in his eye before launching into a long disquisition on which farm south of Greytor the feral pigs were raised, how the meat was smoked (oak, maple and persimmon, in a 3:2:1 ratio), and the care the bakers put into making the bread.
It was almost mesmerizing, but luckily I’ve been vaccinated against that. I shook it off as Zonya said to Low, “You are not one of the Royal Skunks.”
“That’s correct. I’m not from around – “
“Here, yes. I am certain that your presence is all part of the Great Plan.” Without elaborating on this, she said, “I was headed back home. Would you like some tea?” My wives nodded, and I tagged along behind the group as we made our way through the village to a house that stood on a low hill, set quite a bit apart from the others.
Zonya stopped, ears swiveling, and she turned to me. “You are not welcome.”
“Me? Why?” I asked.
The vixen’s reply was a bit odd. She merely took a jump to the left, but with no accompanying step to the right.
I saw an indistinct doe-shaped blur.
And for the second time today, I got hit with something.
Right in the mush, too.
Not quite sure what it was, really. It had the consistency of pudding, had the absolutely disgusting taste of insulating gelatin, and it was a translucent green – but minus the sliced olives and pineapple chunks I recall from those really awkward family reunion dinners when you’re urged to eat things that are to your eyes completely unnatural.
I heard Tali and Low-chan tittering, and as I wiped my eyes and spit the vile stuff out of my mouth, the sound receded until I heard feet on wooden steps and a door closing. When my vision cleared, I was quite alone.
I spit a few more times, huffed, “Fine, be that way,” and headed back to Tali’s mobile to get a shower.
Maybe two showers.
And some drinks.
And maybe short-sheet Tali’s bed.
***
Low:
Poor Matt.
Getting bowled over by a baby wyvern, and then getting some sort of otherworldly goop mashed in his mush, makes for a full day. With me and Tali giggling at him both times.
Of course, we’ll make it up to him. I wonder where Tali and I put those French maid costumes . . .
But I digress.
The home was as neat as a pin, and I confess that I’ve seen white rooms that felt less clean than this. Tali later assured me that it was a cultural thing, peculiar to Elfhame. Made sense, when you took into account the rainfall, snowfall, and springtime mud.
Zonya set the kettle on the stove and said to Dotto, “You may go and play.”
Her son grinned. “It iz tzo, Mama!” He saluted, shouted “Elfhame vincit!” and ran out.
Again, his mother gave his retreating form a very quiet smile before measuring out tea in the strainer.
“Your son is . . . interesting,” I observed.
“I am pleased that you think so,” the vixen replied. “If we were in Vulpitania, he would be well on his way to becoming a SALV.”
“’SALV?’”
“Studious and Learned Vulpine,” she replied. “He has an extensive knowledge of the culinary arts.”
“Really?” Tali asked, trying not to sound ironic.
If Zonya had picked up on that, she didn’t show it. “He was very pleased and proud of himself that he correctly divined what Una Sawyer would serve to her prospective mate.” The kettle started to sing, and she prepared the teapot before setting out cups and saucers. A plate of cookies completed the service, and she sat down with us.
A hazy outline of a doe hovered nearby, and I nodded politely to her. She returned my nod, and I noted Tali watching me. “What?”
“What?”
“What do you mean, ‘What?’ What are you looking at me like that for?”
“Well, so far you’ve met two ghosts,” my wife said, “this doe,” and she smiled at the specter, “and Princess Grace. You’re certainly taking it well.”
I smirked. “Tali, you know I don’t scare easily. I found Princess Grace to be a very charming person – “
“Royalty.”
“Pfui. Kings and queens, knights on white horses, - all these things mean nothing to me. They all put their pants on one leg at a time.”
Zonya was looking at us, her ears flicking. “Riding . . . horses? Don’t they object?”
“Oh. Um,” and I thought a moment. “Where we’re from, horses serve the same function as ants do here. Just like the ants, they are beasts, not intelligent persons.”
“How very odd,” the vixen said before sipping her tea.
“Anyway,” I said after drinking the last of my tea, “Grace was charming, a good conversationalist, and – BRAAPPPPP!”
I had leaned forward to refill my cup, and my belch made a nearby window rattle.
The ghostly doe looked impressed.
Zonya was gazing rather fixedly at me, and I said, “Excuse me.” I turned to say the same to Tali, but instead asked, “What?”
My wife was grinning from ear to ear. “Ooo-er said that if a femme belches after venery, it means she’s going to be pregnant.”
“If so,” Zonya said, “it is all part of the Plan.”
I flicked an ear as I finished refilling my tea. “What ‘Plan?’”
“The Great Plan,” the vixen said. “I was privileged to actually see it, in its fastness up in Lengra-cha. That was also part of the Plan.”
I glanced at Tali, who twitched her tail in what I had come to interpret as a shrug.
We spent a pleasant afternoon with Zonya and the ghost, and shortly afterward we were walking back to the mobile. On our way there, we passed Missy.
The wolfess had a bucket in her paws; a bucket in which something sloshed.
And it didn’t sound like water.
“Where are you going with that?” Tali asked her.
“I need to pay the Master back for a few things,” she said. Cryptic response? Perhaps, but the toothy grin on her muzzle spoke volumes.
We were apparently witnessing the latest exchange in an ongoing prank war, something I wanted no part of, and I told Tali so.
“Well, you can sit it out if you want, but I’m – “
“On medical restrictions.”
Her ears and tail drooped. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“You’re no fun,” she huffed.
We resumed walking back to the mobile and I said, “Look, you know better than I do what these people are capable of with their magic. Do you want to get caught in the middle of that?” Before she could reply I added, “Do you want her caught in the middle of that?”
“Missy – “
I shook my head. “Missy isn’t family, Tali; you are. And she’s from this alternity, and from what you’ve told me, she’s well able to handle herself in a fight.”
Tali grumped, “I hate it when you’re right.”
I slipped an arm around her shoulders, and she started to cheer up as I thought.
No, I hadn’t told Tali about what happened a few months ago. Matt and I had agreed that we’d break the news after she had her child. He’d gone back onto his Precautions after that.
Which is why I dismissed my wife’s joke about belching and pregnancy. Despite the fact that Matt and I had spent a rather strenuous night back before the Solstice (accounts differ; I say we did it seven times, and Matt insists it was only five), he was firing blanks.
So I put it all out of my mind.
<NEXT>
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST>
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Skunk
Size 2296 x 1604px
File Size 2.03 MB
Listed in Folders
“What do you mean, ‘What?’ What are you looking at me like that for?”
“Well, so far you’ve met two ghosts,” my wife said, “this doe,” and she smiled at the specter, “and Princess Grace. You’re certainly taking it well.”
"Third so far, as it turns out. The second called himself 'Funky Phantom', and he was just weird. This doe ghost so far seems un-exhausting to be around, by comparison."
“Well, so far you’ve met two ghosts,” my wife said, “this doe,” and she smiled at the specter, “and Princess Grace. You’re certainly taking it well.”
"Third so far, as it turns out. The second called himself 'Funky Phantom', and he was just weird. This doe ghost so far seems un-exhausting to be around, by comparison."
Oh, if only he had been that cool:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ImuJlRK1CR0
(from 16 to 21 seconds in)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ImuJlRK1CR0
(from 16 to 21 seconds in)
While I'm not interested enough to devote any more time into the subject, some uploaders were kind enough to put together a playlist...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jNjnlNCMGX8&list=PLLhOnau-tupT7vPejSM5ndxPoipwRYTdI&index=1
... and the intro was kind enough to exposit the basics. I wasn't around for its original airing, but my takeaways are "Snagglepuss as an Independence War veteran" and "H-B reaching out for whatever damned excuse it can to cash in on and smear around its own Scooby Doo further". Even.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jNjnlNCMGX8&list=PLLhOnau-tupT7vPejSM5ndxPoipwRYTdI&index=1
... and the intro was kind enough to exposit the basics. I wasn't around for its original airing, but my takeaways are "Snagglepuss as an Independence War veteran" and "H-B reaching out for whatever damned excuse it can to cash in on and smear around its own Scooby Doo further". Even.
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