FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

It's a strange sound. In rain, it blends in synchronicity. But by itself, it's maddening. A deep, slow, resounding sound.

Drip, drip, drop.

"Hey, you feeling okay?" I asked, noticing immediately the fox's strange demeanor. "Something happen? You're soaking. C'mon inside, I can get you a towel and-"

"Is it true?" he asked, frankly.

"Is what true?"

"The store, it's in debt." The water dripped lazily off his heavy coat.

"Y-Yeah." I say. "How'd you find out?"

"That's not important." He says, almost icily. "With that kind of debt, and losing the apartment, you . . ."

Drip, drip, I was almost glad it filled the silence. I sure as hell didn't know how.

"We're . . . we're just going through a rough patch, you know?" I say, smiling. "Everything's gonna be-"

"Don't fucking lie to me!" he shouts.

Drip.

* * * *

"You do realize it's not customary to greet your father with a baseball bat, yes?" he said, calm even with the bludgeon inches from his face.

"As I recall, we don't have familial relations anymore." I say, snarling the best I could.

"Don't be an id-"

"Take another step and I have the legal right to defend myself from a home invader by any means necessary." I say, pressing the metal bat against his chest.

There was actually a spark of hesitation, but he kept well enough composed. He didn't even let his tail sway in the slightest.

"Please be logical. You know I wouldn't come to this run down place without a matter to discuss." He says, placing his paw gently on the bat.

It was true. We had zero contact with one another since I left. I know he had the means to find me immediately, but he made no such effort. Until now apparently.

"There's only one reason you'd want to talk with me, and it's my quality as an asset to the family business. One I don't care for in the slightest."

"Of course. However, I know you care for another such business. A quant little flower shop just down-" I pulled back the bat and pushed it hard into his gut.

" What the hell did you do to them." I said, with as sinister of an edge that I could muster.

He coughed a little, but gripped the end of the bat. "Whatever do you mean??" he smirked. "I did absolutely nothing."

* * * *

"I . . . I'm not lying to you." He says. "It's just been a little hard to attract customers. And a few weird accidents with some shipments. Nothing bad."

"Mark . . . you're gonna have to work full time to support your mom."

"That's only a worst case scenario, Danny." I smile, placing a hand on his shoulder. He recoils. He was cold as ice. "I can still take classes. We could live together; you, me, mom, working, like one big family."

Drip. Drip.

"That . . . that's not how I want to live, Mark."

* * * *

"I thought it was strange. More flower shops and kiosks have been appearing out of nowhere, and selling stuff for dirt cheap. Sponsored by you."

"You can't possibly blame me." That damn sneer again. "It's simply capitalism at play. The better provider lives. The lesser withers. Like the flowers from the last two shipments. Such a shame they came in so late."

"That's low, even for you." I say, fuming as I put the bat down. "Crushing someone's hard work, and for what? To get to me?"

"Yes." He says, stepping forward, into my house. I grit my teeth and don't take a swing at him. "I've done similar before. It's not all too difficult. You should know, you're taking psychology, aren't you? A disassociation from the person and the business. Then again, even if I looked her in the eye the entire time, I wouldn't do a thing different."

"You know, you're the reason why foxes get such a bad rep."

"You have no right to speak." The first emotion he showed all day. Anger. "You bring shame to the family, with no regard as to how it affects our image. You selfish little-"

" Just stop the act." I say, glaring him down as best as I could. "We both know you don't give a shit. After all, you've spun all this in your favor. 'Learning independence', 'not relying on the family fortune', 'preparing himself for the harsh reality of the world'."

I spat on his shoes. " All bullshit."

The second emotion. Joy. "Hah, you really are my son. I suppose that's why I'm going to such lengths." He says, chuckling lightly.

I feel my fur stand on end. It was such a twisted smile, and nefarious stare.

It was clear to me that though I was his son, I meant no more to him than his phone. An important device. A tool to be used.

* * * *

"I'm sick and tired of living in poverty." He says, colder than the misty air. "I miss my old life. Not having to worry about things like a nice, warm meal."

My stomach turned. "H-Hey, what are you saying?" this wasn't like him. This wasn't him.

"I . . . I don't want to do this anymore, either." He looked at me, his eyes glass.

"What . . ." If I didn't speak, he couldn't respond.

Drip.

"I'm tired of living like this. In secret. Only getting to see you a handful of times." He looked exhausted. Almost enough for me to bel . . .

"But I thought you didn't-"

"Of course I mind, dumb ass!" he shouts at me, but they felt hollow. "I'm sick of living like this! I'm sick of being like this! I'm sick of being with you!"

He almost choked on his own words.

Drip.

"D-Danny, please-"

"If I have to hide who I am I might as well live a good life, right?! RIGHT?!"

Drip.

"Danny-"

"I hate feeling like this! Like I'm trapped all over again! I hate you!"

Drip.

"Dan-"

"Just shut up! I don't want to hear your excuses!"

Drip.

"D-"

"I'm done! It's over! We're thr-"

Dr-

I grab him.

I pull him against me.

His cold wet fur.

The hot streaks down his cheeks.

-ip.

"You can't expect me to believe you." I say, tearing up a little myself. "Not for a gosh darn second."

Drip. Drop.

* * * *

"It's about time you start training to succeed me. The company will need fresh new blood soon."

"I refuse." I say vehemently.

"As expected." He says, slowly regaining his frigid composure. "However, you surely know this will end for your little lover and his mother, yes?"

"Of course." I say, matching his own demeanor. "However, I refuse to make such a one-sided deal. I have my own conditions."

"I would hope you do. However, we can discuss such things at a later-"

"No. I'd like as little contact with you as humanly possible. We'll settle this all now."

He didn't question my haste, nor advise me against giving up the little time I had to make the conditions.

All he did was just say "Go on then."

"First, I'd like you to stop funding the competition, though I'd rather have them crushed."

"That seems a bit harsh, don't you think? They're their own people, with their own hopes and dreams-"

"Don't lie to me. You planned to abandon them. You probably hired only temps, and had the managers be from your own sectors. They were never sustainable."

He smirks.

"Well, I can't deny it. However, I accept your condition. It's not like flower shops like that are even all that good in this market."

"The second condition. I'd like you to become a patron to Mark and Mary. 10,000 a month."

"That's far too high, 2,000 a month, for a year."

"5,000 a month for two years, with the initial month being 7,000 to get them out of debt, and ensure Mark can attend college." I say, standing my ground. "I know you have the money to spare. It'll be just like that second family of yours."

His tail sways a bit. But he makes no mention of it.

"Very well."

"My third condition. Though I assume you want me to cut off all contact with them, I ask for proof that you are holding your end of the bargain. Copies of school transcripts, video, flowers from the shop, any concrete evidence will do."

"Of course." He says. "Is that it?"

". . . Yes."

* * * *

"I . . . I can't do this, Mark." He says, barely trying to push me away.

"We can make it through this." I say, holding him close. "I don't know what's going on, but we can make it work."

"N-No!" he shouts, finally breaking out of my grip, stumbling back outside.

"Please, whatever it is-"

"-My Dad's offering me a deal to pay for my tuition. All of it. As long as I leave you."

"Danny, please stop this-"

"-And it's too good to pass up."

"We can work it out, just tell me what's going on-"

"-I just can't take it. I need to ensure I have the best chance."

Drip. "It's going to be fine, as long as we have each other-"

"-We can't live off petty idealism, Mark." Drop.

Drip, Drip. "We have our plan, and it's overall financially sound-"

"-No matter what we do, the outcome is inevitable." Drop, Drop.

Drip Drop. "And I know it seems unlikely, but I know it will work out-"

"-and from the beginning I knew it would never work out." Drip, Drop, Drip

Drip Drop Drip Drop, "Because I-"

"-Because I never" Drip Drip, Drop Drop, Drip drop drip drop

"Love you-" "-Loved you."

Ah . . . when did it start raining again?

* * * *

"I assume you know what this means for you, yes?" he asks.

"I'm aware." I say, not faltering at all to meet his eyes.

"I am to study the business, to learn the trade, to make improvements, and to one day take over. I will marry a nice, female fox who will increase my standings, and sire children to continue the family name. Failure to comply will mostly likely be . . ."

"Go on, say it."

"An attack on Mark and Mary Ackerman. Financially, and possibly physically."

"These conditions are acceptable to me." He says, not even bothering to enjoy the deal he was closing. Though, I question if he even got satisfaction out of it, or if it was simply logical to him.

"They are to me as well." I say. "Once they're written up, and I can read over the contract, I will gladly sign it."

"Pleasure doing business with you." He says, extending his paw.

I don't move. "Just have someone write up the contract." I hand him the phone from my pocket. "Have them use the recording I took."

He chuckles. "So you expected something like this to happen?"

"I can't deny that."

"Hah."

"You really are my son."

* * * *

"Mark! The strangest thing just happened! A man - a-a fox- just came up to me and said that he loves supporting local businesses like mine, a-and he just up and gave me a check for seven thousand dollars! I-I couldn't accept it, at first, but he insisted, and when I saw that number I thought he was a loon! But it ain't no lie, we got seven thousand dollars! HAHA! We're gonna be alright, Mark! We're gonna be-"

_ _ She was cut off. Voicemail will do that.

I just sat there, on the ground, in front of a little puddle.

"Danny . . . you jack ass." Drip. "What did you do?" Drop.