FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

~ Chapter 2 ~

Four Thirty and the day droned on. Handling irate customer phone calls wasn't my idea of a fun time by any length. After eight hours I was ready to suffer the mid-day heat to get out of the cool but cramped hell that was customer service in an IT company. I could complain about how mismanagement in Strivent Communications - StrivCom for short - is causing hundreds of customers to experience long-term service outages, but I didn't want to think about that right now. All I wanted was a cool drink and a place to get out of this heat. I headed for Infinitá.

Infinitá is a small club in a small neighborhood. It originally started out as a small café that served homemade food from some buck-and-doe manufacturing company. After a change in menu to actual food and a bi-weekly invite for local bands, the place attracted more company. Though not necessarily a gay bar, it attracted such clientele because of the owners' dispositions towards shadier characters. Anyone was welcome as long as they didn't deal drugs or disturb anyone else. Infinitá became one of the first safe-house sanctioned establishments during the cultural warfare around ten years ago. A few broken storefront windows later, and Infinitá dolled its self up with fenced-in windows and a bouncer by the name of Bruiser. Eventually, as all things happen, the café gave way to a more boisterous nightclub scene but still retained a few booths and stools at the bar specific for eating or masticating or chewing-the-cud as it were. Infinitá isn't quite on my way home from work but as a nice place for the weary wicked to rest and grab a snack, it served its purpose. It's also close enough to the train station that I can still find my way back to my apartment in the early morning hours - more often than not.

"You come for the food?" a deep, throaty voiced rumbled to my left. Like a developing photo, my eyes fine-tuned themselves to the indoor atmosphere of the club and, towering above my frail frame, stood a seven-foot tall bison.

"And I'll stay for the company," I retorted. "How've you been, Bruise?"

"Just fine, sir, thank you. And yourself, Aaron?"

"Another day that I wish I could set fire to my work. I'll gladly sit in a pool of gasoline than deal with another pissed off customer." Reminiscing about the past eight hours and the shit that I had to sort through, I sighed.

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah, Bruise. I just think I'm going to get both mange and an ulcer at that place."

Bruiser laughed a guttural, comforting, and paternal chuckle. He reached into his wallet and pulled out some bills, "Here: buy dinner on me."

"Thanks, Bruise. Stay cool."

"You too, sir."

Navigating the various tables, stools, dance floor, and patrons of the fine establishment, I made my way to the booths and sat under what could be the coolest blowing fan in the entire room. Tall wooden partitions separate each booth from the other so that people could have at least a semblance of privacy. Away from the DJ and the dance floor, the booths were one of the quieter places in Infinitá.

"Hey Sug," a snowy rabbit came over to the booth and greeted me. A semblance of a dress code peered through a black, skin-tight tank top and a red pinstriped, pleated mini skirt. 'Sugar' was the rabbit's nickname for me.

"Hi, Tif," I replied, "What's the story?"

"Oh Sug," Tiffany sighed, rolling her doe-like eyes, "Kat and I got in another fight last night and she stormed out of my place."

"Sorry to hear that. You two were cute together."

"Thanks," Tiffany smiled, "She came back almost immediately when she realized she had forgotten her panties! I made her stay outside the door until we patched things up. Can you believe it; she has the balls to call me a bitch when she was the one who said that the Golden Anacondas were a bunch of British Barbie dolls with no talent and an even worse sense of style!"

"That bitch!" I mock-pouted.

"Easy Sug," Tiffany winked at me, "Kat's working tonight. You don't want her to catch you saying such stuff."

"Catch what?" a sultry voice asserted from beyond the booths. It was strong, but at the same time it was capable of sending any living creature to the floor as a pile of melted butter.

"Nothing, Hon!" Tiffany called out and turned back to me, "I'd better make sure she didn't hear me whining about her. Quick, what do you want?" She changed gears and pulled out a pad of paper from a hidden pocket. A pencil magically appeared from behind one of her lolling ears.

"Umm..." my mind went blank_. I've been coming here for how long? I should have the menu memorized by now_! "Just give me uh... A third of a roast beef sandwich, no mayo, and, uh... a White Russian."

"Really?" Tiffany looked rather surprised and smiled, "Whatever you want, Sug."

When Tiffany left, I sulked down into the booth, my head barely above table level. A pulsating throb echoed throughout my skull asynchronous to the techno beat that was pumping out two hours early from the DJ across the room.

"Keeping cool out there?" Tiffany asked as she came back with my food.

"Yeah. Trying to," I replied.

She left with a sympathetic smile and I wolfed down my sandwich. Apparently I was hungrier than I thought and the roast beef juices whet my appetite. Three bites later and my stomach was appeased for now. I turned to the White Russian that sat untouched in front of me and stared at it. Somewhere in my stomach a tomato slice pickled.

"You look thirsty," a familiar voice rumbled beside me.

I jumped, banging my thighs against the top of the table and plopped back unceremoniously onto my seat. "Jeez, Bruise! Don't sneak up on a drunk!"

"You haven't even touched it. The sweat ring on the table isn't broken and you don't have a white mustache yet. Here." Bruiser sat down across from me and handed me a tall, icy glass of Coke. In his other hand he held his own glass, half empty. I sipped through the straw and immediately felt my throat clear and my stomach cool down. Was it not so hot, I probably would've gotten goose bumps. "I had Marc chill down the glasses."

"Thanks, Bruise," I said when I came up for air, "It really hits the spot. You takin' a break?"

About that time Bruise shifted in his seat which I thought was too small to hold his bulk. Under the overhead lamp I saw his left shoulder and a bare patch of skin.

"What's that?" I asked before I could stop myself.

"This?" Bruise followed my gaze, rotating his shoulder so I could get a better look at it. "I'm surprised you haven't asked about it earlier. Did you only just see it? I don't blame you, I usually hide in the dark."

Upon his shoulder was a bald patch of skin surrounded by rough, scraggly, brown hair. In the bald patch stood a black, stylized bird flying over a similarly designed cervid.

"It's the hawk Cetan flying over the wapiti, Hehaka. Cetan is a hawk spirit and represents speed and keen eyesight - something my people have little of."

"Oh," I grunted incommunicably, not really paying attention or caring all that much. "But why would you do that to yourself - shave off your fur?"

"It's a symbol of humility, Aaron," Bruiser looked into my eyes. I shrank back down into my seat. "We pride ourselves in our fur just as humans pride themselves for their nakedness, for the most part at least. With this patch of skin that cannot grow hair again, I humble myself. But with my humility, I have a symbol of strength showing through and giving me that strength for what I pray for."

I drop my eyes from Bruiser and play with the basket and wrapper that my sandwich came in.

"You're wondering about eating cow, aren't you."

I didn't answer or return the staring gaze against my forehead.

"My ancestors shared the plains with the Lakota. We knew that without the bison we bovans and the humans would die. They took great care and respect for those bison who gave their lives for them to live and we gave thanks to those who led us to greener pastures as it were. Humans eat meat just as you do, and I am vegetarian. There's nothing mystical about it."

"Hiya, Bruise," Tiffany petted as she cleaned the table. My coke was down to the ice cubes while Bruiser's was only two-thirds gone. Hesitantly, Tiffany picked up the untouched White Russian and placed it in the basket, "No charge for that, 'kay Aaron?"

"Thanks, Tiff," I muttered.

"Bruise, be easy on the kid," Tiff said as she walked away.

"I am!" Bruiser followed Tiffany with his eyes for a bit before turning his attention back on me. "I'm more Americanized than most of my people, but I still hold on to my roots and traditions. Too many people in this world are rushing around, not knowing where they're going."

A long pause lingered in the air and I noticed that the DJ had taken a longer time putting on a new song. Shortly the music started up and the droll in the atmosphere subsided.

"New guy. Probably won't last long," Bruiser broke the silence. "Did you pay, yet?"

I looked down and the money Bruiser handed me earlier was still sitting on the table. I said goodbye to Bruise, paid Marc at the bar, and left for home.