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Family Matters
© 2022 by M. Mitch Marmel
Thumbnail art by
rockbaker
Part Sixty-two (Epilogue)
Matt:
“Why are we doing this again?” Fred asked. He wasn’t whining, but his ears were flattened and his tail was between his legs. Nearby, Michael was adjusting his straw boater for what appeared to be the 6.02x10^23rd time – I’m not here to be Avogadro’s Advocate, but we have to be vigilant for a mole in the operation.
Having made sure his hat was at an angle infinitesimally somewhere between jaunty and rakish, the mink walked over to us. “It’s traditional,” Michael said to the Demented Dog. “Leave us face facts, this started off traditionally.”
“So why call us in? Neither of us were even here,” Fred protested.
“Well,” I said, “if you don’t want to get paid . . . “
Fred immediately vanished, reappearing a fraction of an eyeblink later dressed in full barbershop quartet rig, complete down to the garters on his upper arms, sporting a boater and a mustache easily rivaling mine.
I was unamused. If he dares to challenge me, I shall have my beard eat his mustache.
“Okeh,” I said, “are we finally ready?”
“When you are, Boss Bear,” Fred said with the cheery smile you usually see on people who are being held hostage and are telling their families that they’re being treated well.
“All right lads, take your places,” I said, and Michael blew a note on a tri-tone. “All together!”
“When you’re riding along on the back of an ant
Don’t go staring up at the sun
Keep your eyes down
As you ride through the town
‘Cause blindness ain’t much fun!
It’s simply APPALLING!
The way we three keep on just stalling,
We're riding along on the back of an ant,
And the world is ours!”
“WHISHT!” And a gray fox wearing a doublet and ruff and carrying a stick appeared directly in front of us. “Stop that roight now, ye spalpeens!”
“I’m glad of the interruption,” Fred remarked. “I wasn’t looking forward to the tap dancing.”
“Arrah, none o’ that,” the fox said angrily. “’Tis bad enough ye’re tryin’ t’roide an Elfhamian ant, but all three o’ ye? Puir thing’s on its last leg, begor!”
I looked down and, yeah, he was right. All six of the shaggy beast’s legs were starting to sag under our combined weight. Must have been Fred; he’s been putting on some pounds of late.
Clearly didn’t have a camel’s staying power, but that’s the advantage of an endoskeleton for you.
We all climbed off the hissing, groaning creature, and the fox gave us all a glare as he approached the ant. “There, there, ye puir wee beastie,” he crooned softly, his soothing noises changing into a yelp as the ant lunged, snapping its mandibles at him.
Maybe it wasn't a good idea for Fred to remove the ant's muzzle.
“Cuishlamacri!” the aged tod exclaimed, and he took to his heels, with the ant going after him on all sixes, leaving us standing and looking at each other.
“Isn’t it about time for a deus ex machina?” Fred asked.
Michael shrugged. “No thanks. I prefer espresso.”
***
Winterbough:
The sun goes down on another day in the sweet Vale of Elfhame, and bucks and does and fawns find their hooves taking them to their homes. Soon enough, the Seven Stars will kindle in the night sky, reminding us of our ancient tradition that Elves, beloved of the Lady, first opened their eyes here to behold the Shining Land.
The night’s a time for dinner and song, in the best Elfly manner. Which means . . .
(Music starts , a rollicking tune starts up)
“The night sky is darkling
While stars are sparkling
It’s time for home and hearth
In Elfhame tonight!
Something that’s homey
Someone is homely
Wolf Queen: “HEY!”
There’s someone for everyone
In Elfhame tonight!”
VILLAGERS:
“There’s no need to work
In nighttime’s sweet murk!
Time for sweet dreams –“
Wolf Queen: “The Master’s a jerk!”
Winterbough: “HEY!”
PRINCESS OOO-ER and the WOLF QUEEN:
“Nighttime’s for lovers
Under the covers
There’s someone for everyone
In Elfhame tonight!”
TESSIE and UNA:
“Husbands and mates do
Just what they ought to
(If he knows what’s good for him)
In Elfhame tonight!”
VILLAGERS:
“A new day will dawn
And life will go on!
There’s work to be done
At first sign of Sun!
We’re going to bed now
Stop making noise now
We have to get up soon enough!
That’s Elfhame tonight
And if you don’t like it – tough!”
***
Tali:
Some time later. . .
Artemisia Sage-Hartoh looked at me curiously as I unpacked the large duffels from the Musashi. "What in the Pantheon's name is THAT?"
I grinned. "Little Nellie. Oh, she's a wonderful girl. Very small. Quite fast. Can do anything. Just your type."
My junior wife looked at the yellow-and-silver gyrocopter being assembled by techs from Low's ship (now stationed in planetary orbit for the duration). "It . . . looks like a large flying bug."
My grin turned mean. "A bug with considerable stings."
"Stings?"
"Oh, you know, twin machine guns, two air to air missiles, smoke ejectors, aerial mines . . ."
"Mmm-hm." Missy frowned a bit. "What's the occasion?"
I tossed her a scroll, which she unrolled and read. "Invitation from the Duchess of Daisies for a return match, bug to bug?"
"Yep. And since I wouldn't know how to fly a giant cockroach . . . well."
Wings manifested. "I'm going with you."
I dimpled. "Kinda hoped you would." I raised a cautioning finger. "Mind you, don't get involved in the fight unless it gets real bad."
***
Matt wandered up some hours later as Missy was wiping scorch marks from Little Nellie's rudder and I was painting four cockroach symbols on her nose. "Have a fun afternoon?"
Missy grinned. "It was POETRY. Little Nellie got a hot reception. Four big shots made improper advances toward her, but she defended her honor with great success."
Matt raised an eyebrow. "Four?"
"Yeah," I smirked. "Four flying cockroaches, ridden by three skunks and one weird looking fox tod."
Missy's grin grew positively beatific as the Regalia chimed in. "And they made a VERY satisfying THUMP! when they hit the ground!"
[Note appended to manuscript: “Dedicated to Wing Commander Ken Wallis, Royal Air Force (1916-2013).”]
***
Gawain:
“As some day it may happen that the Lady take the King
Not for many years! — No, not for many years!
There is a certain roebuck who had better hide his head
And he never would be missed — he never would be missed!
He's a pestilential nuisance who has often crossed my path —
A runty little cervine who has clearly earned my wrath —
He has his grandad’s mojo, to visit all the cabins of the Ark --
He can take femmes high or low, just for a bloody lark —
And when I’m given the Crowns this one thing I’ll insist —
He certainly won’t be missed — he surely won’t be missed!”
[Chorus of Whitetail Bucks]
“He's got him on his list — he's got him on his list;
And he surely won’t be missed — he surely won’t be missed!”
The End (and that’s all, folks)!!!1!!!!
<NEXT>
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST>
© 2022 by M. Mitch Marmel
Thumbnail art by
rockbakerPart Sixty-two (Epilogue)
Matt:
“Why are we doing this again?” Fred asked. He wasn’t whining, but his ears were flattened and his tail was between his legs. Nearby, Michael was adjusting his straw boater for what appeared to be the 6.02x10^23rd time – I’m not here to be Avogadro’s Advocate, but we have to be vigilant for a mole in the operation.
Having made sure his hat was at an angle infinitesimally somewhere between jaunty and rakish, the mink walked over to us. “It’s traditional,” Michael said to the Demented Dog. “Leave us face facts, this started off traditionally.”
“So why call us in? Neither of us were even here,” Fred protested.
“Well,” I said, “if you don’t want to get paid . . . “
Fred immediately vanished, reappearing a fraction of an eyeblink later dressed in full barbershop quartet rig, complete down to the garters on his upper arms, sporting a boater and a mustache easily rivaling mine.
I was unamused. If he dares to challenge me, I shall have my beard eat his mustache.
“Okeh,” I said, “are we finally ready?”
“When you are, Boss Bear,” Fred said with the cheery smile you usually see on people who are being held hostage and are telling their families that they’re being treated well.
“All right lads, take your places,” I said, and Michael blew a note on a tri-tone. “All together!”
“When you’re riding along on the back of an ant
Don’t go staring up at the sun
Keep your eyes down
As you ride through the town
‘Cause blindness ain’t much fun!
It’s simply APPALLING!
The way we three keep on just stalling,
We're riding along on the back of an ant,
And the world is ours!”
“WHISHT!” And a gray fox wearing a doublet and ruff and carrying a stick appeared directly in front of us. “Stop that roight now, ye spalpeens!”
“I’m glad of the interruption,” Fred remarked. “I wasn’t looking forward to the tap dancing.”
“Arrah, none o’ that,” the fox said angrily. “’Tis bad enough ye’re tryin’ t’roide an Elfhamian ant, but all three o’ ye? Puir thing’s on its last leg, begor!”
I looked down and, yeah, he was right. All six of the shaggy beast’s legs were starting to sag under our combined weight. Must have been Fred; he’s been putting on some pounds of late.
Clearly didn’t have a camel’s staying power, but that’s the advantage of an endoskeleton for you.
We all climbed off the hissing, groaning creature, and the fox gave us all a glare as he approached the ant. “There, there, ye puir wee beastie,” he crooned softly, his soothing noises changing into a yelp as the ant lunged, snapping its mandibles at him.
Maybe it wasn't a good idea for Fred to remove the ant's muzzle.
“Cuishlamacri!” the aged tod exclaimed, and he took to his heels, with the ant going after him on all sixes, leaving us standing and looking at each other.
“Isn’t it about time for a deus ex machina?” Fred asked.
Michael shrugged. “No thanks. I prefer espresso.”
***
Winterbough:
The sun goes down on another day in the sweet Vale of Elfhame, and bucks and does and fawns find their hooves taking them to their homes. Soon enough, the Seven Stars will kindle in the night sky, reminding us of our ancient tradition that Elves, beloved of the Lady, first opened their eyes here to behold the Shining Land.
The night’s a time for dinner and song, in the best Elfly manner. Which means . . .
(Music starts , a rollicking tune starts up)
“The night sky is darkling
While stars are sparkling
It’s time for home and hearth
In Elfhame tonight!
Something that’s homey
Someone is homely
Wolf Queen: “HEY!”
There’s someone for everyone
In Elfhame tonight!”
VILLAGERS:
“There’s no need to work
In nighttime’s sweet murk!
Time for sweet dreams –“
Wolf Queen: “The Master’s a jerk!”
Winterbough: “HEY!”
PRINCESS OOO-ER and the WOLF QUEEN:
“Nighttime’s for lovers
Under the covers
There’s someone for everyone
In Elfhame tonight!”
TESSIE and UNA:
“Husbands and mates do
Just what they ought to
(If he knows what’s good for him)
In Elfhame tonight!”
VILLAGERS:
“A new day will dawn
And life will go on!
There’s work to be done
At first sign of Sun!
We’re going to bed now
Stop making noise now
We have to get up soon enough!
That’s Elfhame tonight
And if you don’t like it – tough!”
***
Tali:
Some time later. . .
Artemisia Sage-Hartoh looked at me curiously as I unpacked the large duffels from the Musashi. "What in the Pantheon's name is THAT?"
I grinned. "Little Nellie. Oh, she's a wonderful girl. Very small. Quite fast. Can do anything. Just your type."
My junior wife looked at the yellow-and-silver gyrocopter being assembled by techs from Low's ship (now stationed in planetary orbit for the duration). "It . . . looks like a large flying bug."
My grin turned mean. "A bug with considerable stings."
"Stings?"
"Oh, you know, twin machine guns, two air to air missiles, smoke ejectors, aerial mines . . ."
"Mmm-hm." Missy frowned a bit. "What's the occasion?"
I tossed her a scroll, which she unrolled and read. "Invitation from the Duchess of Daisies for a return match, bug to bug?"
"Yep. And since I wouldn't know how to fly a giant cockroach . . . well."
Wings manifested. "I'm going with you."
I dimpled. "Kinda hoped you would." I raised a cautioning finger. "Mind you, don't get involved in the fight unless it gets real bad."
***
Matt wandered up some hours later as Missy was wiping scorch marks from Little Nellie's rudder and I was painting four cockroach symbols on her nose. "Have a fun afternoon?"
Missy grinned. "It was POETRY. Little Nellie got a hot reception. Four big shots made improper advances toward her, but she defended her honor with great success."
Matt raised an eyebrow. "Four?"
"Yeah," I smirked. "Four flying cockroaches, ridden by three skunks and one weird looking fox tod."
Missy's grin grew positively beatific as the Regalia chimed in. "And they made a VERY satisfying THUMP! when they hit the ground!"
[Note appended to manuscript: “Dedicated to Wing Commander Ken Wallis, Royal Air Force (1916-2013).”]
***
Gawain:
“As some day it may happen that the Lady take the King
Not for many years! — No, not for many years!
There is a certain roebuck who had better hide his head
And he never would be missed — he never would be missed!
He's a pestilential nuisance who has often crossed my path —
A runty little cervine who has clearly earned my wrath —
He has his grandad’s mojo, to visit all the cabins of the Ark --
He can take femmes high or low, just for a bloody lark —
And when I’m given the Crowns this one thing I’ll insist —
He certainly won’t be missed — he surely won’t be missed!”
[Chorus of Whitetail Bucks]
“He's got him on his list — he's got him on his list;
And he surely won’t be missed — he surely won’t be missed!”
The End (and that’s all, folks)!!!1!!!!
<NEXT>
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST>
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Brown Bear
Size 2251 x 1636px
File Size 468.2 kB
Listed in Folders
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