Tzimmes Cracked Corn (And I Don’t Care)
A Spontoon Island story
© 2022 Walter Reimer
(Characters courtesy of M. Mitch Marmel, J.T. Urie and E.O. Costello. Thanks!)

Thumbnail art by  heywulf



18.


Rosie:

“Franneleh – “

“No.”

“Aw, come on – “

“I said no, and I meant it,” my buck said. We’d had a lovely supper, and again he’d had a pretty good day. I had been sitting at his hooves, giving his bad one a rubdown, when I broached the subject as delicately as I could.

Namely, what he would wear to our wedding.

I had thought that, since he had looked amazing in his tailored Constabulary uniform at Willow and Reggie’s wedding, he might want to wear that.

“Absolutely not,” was the reply I got. Interrupted me, too.

So after a little discussion, I began to suggest that he wear the tux that he wore when he took me and Ciss Lopp to dinner up in Tillamook. I mean, mrowr! He had looked fantastic that night.

“NO.”

“Well, you can’t go in your fur,” I pointed out. “I’ll be wearing clothes.” I cocked an eyebrow at him. “And you call me an exhibitionist,” I teased.

He spluttered a little at that, before crossing his arms across his chest and going, “Hmmph.” My buck didn’t take his hoof out of my paws, and I could tell that he wasn’t really angry at me.

After a few minutes he asked, “What are YOU wearing?”

Now it was my turn to give him a look. “Well, it’s not white,” and I grinned as that earned me a soft chuckle from him, “and I confess it’s probably not what the Beacon Hill set in Boston would call ‘traditional,’ but it’s not a grass skirt and coconut halves.” That earned me a soft laugh and an ear-swivel as the thought appeared to definitely appeal to him.

The thought of wearing coconut halves over my breasts, while amusing, would pose problems. Namely, acquiring the right size, and keeping K’nutt’s sooty paws off them.

“I’d be overdressed if I wore that, gah, that tuxedo,” Franklin said with a look of distaste on his muzzle, “and I wouldn’t want to outshine the bride at her wedding.”

I grinned, the air seeming to get a bit pink, and as I basked under the love I felt from his smile, inspiration struck. “Well, why not one of the silk suits I got for you? That nice light gray one?”

My Franneleh thought about that for a moment before he conceded, “Since you won’t be dressed traditionally, it’d be appropriate.”

“So that’s settled, then,” I said. “Do you think you should try it on? We’ll have to get it to a tailor in plenty of time, just in case.”

Franneleh leaned over, and I let go of his hoof and leaned up so we could kiss. “Good idea.”

Well.

The coat and vest?

They fit the best.

The lining was nice and strong.

But . . .

Franklin gave me a slightly confused look. A look that I shared, I must admit.

“Well, you have been eating better,” I said.

“I didn’t think it was that much,” he grumbled.

I snuggled up against him and batted my eyelashes at him. “Just that much more to love.”

Oy, the look he gave me; could turn fresh milk to yogurt in seconds, I’m telling you.

Although I knew he didn’t really mean it.


***


Brush:

Dat afternoon I go out walkin.’

Ain’t lookin’ fer trouble, an’ ain’t hopin’ trouble finds me. I been walkin’ since I joined th’ Constab’lary, ‘cause only by walkin’ ‘round can yez see anything that might be outta place, know what I mean? ‘Sides, I’m a bit of whatcha call a people-watcher.

So I go walkin’ through Meetin’ Island, an’ hop a water taxi over ta Casino, an’ keep walkin’ around.

It’s when I gets ta th’ park on Casino that I stop, an’ rub my eyes ‘cause I can’t believe what I’m seein.’

Spontoon’s got these white feral squirrels, ya know? Some Euro brought ‘em in, an’ they’ve done well fer theyselves. Wise Ones like ‘em, so those boobs on th’ Althing like ‘em, an’ they’re popular with th’ tourists. I’m used ta seein’ them around.

But this . . . ?

There’s like fifty of ‘em in th’ park, all gathered t’gether an’ chitterin’ away at each other, ‘til onea ‘em spots me.

An’ they all go quiet, and stare at me.

Now, I don’t scare worth a damn, usually, but that had me spooked a little. Just a little.

Sudden-like, they all start running off in different directions, ‘cept fer this one who runs right up ta me, sits back on his little white arse, an’ makes this move wit’ his right paw.

Like he’s salutin’ me.

He runs off, an’ I think I’ll just go back ta th’ office.

An’ mebbe get a stiff belt on the way.


***


Vee:

Several days after the mysterious case of food poisoning at the New Haven Embassy, I invited Willow to l’Etoile for lunch, and while we were eating I asked, “What now, Mastermind?”

Willow chuckled and her ears swiveled before she replied, “If we look at what we’re doing as teaching them a series of moral lessons – “

“What was the first one?”

My goddaughter gave a nasty grin. “Don’t take candy from strangers?” We both giggled at that.

“I’m glad you’re on our side.”

“I owe it all to you and Uncle Allan.”

I gave her a look. “Uh-huh. I remember when you were a fawn,” and we both giggled again. “So, what’s the next moral lesson?”

Willow set her fork down and looked thoughtful. “I think . . . hmm, ‘cleanliness is next to godliness.’ That sounds appropriate.”

“New Haven’s officially atheist.”

Again, that nasty grin.


***


Willow:

“Hello, Sergeant.”

“Hey, Miz Buckhorn. Heard ‘bout a little problem over at th’ Embassy.” The fox chuckled. “Prolly gave their plumbin’ a hard time.”

Inspiration struck.

“Tell me, Sergeant, are any of your cousins plumbers, or work for the Ministry of Public Works?”

Brush gave me a shifty look. “Maybe. Whaddaya got in mind?”

I told him.


***


Meffit:

I stepped into the house from the surgery, my nose twitching as a rather pungent odor made itself known. Of course, by ‘made itself known,’ I mean that it barged into my nose without wiping its feet on the mat and proceeded to start smashing the furniture. All metaphorically, mind you.

I’ve smelled this before, and it’s usually banned from the hospital. You might think that, as a skunk, I should be more tolerant of malodorous organisms. Generally, I am.

I draw the line at durian, though.

So when I followed my protesting nose, which clearly resented the task, I was most unpleasantly surprised to see Athena seated at our dining table, spooning up some of the pulp from an opened durian and clearly enjoying every mouthful of the spiky abomination. “Athena?” I asked, succeeding in keeping my gorge from rising by sheer force of will and years of work as a medical examiner. “What’s this?”

To give her credit, my wife waited to swallow before replying. “Oh, Jacob! Good morning!”

“Good morning.” I gestured at her plate, moving the pending question.

“I was in the market with P’ina, and I suddenly caught this most amazing smell - ”

I can well imagine. “It’s a durian, yes.”

“It has the most enticing odor.”

That made me blink. “I beg your pardon?”

Athena nodded happily. “It smells like roasted almonds, and the taste! It’s amazing, Jacob! So many flavors, all rolled together. I’m amazed that we’ve never had it before.”

I reminded myself that my wife is pregnant, and pregnant women may, at times, experience changes in food preferences. There is an old wheeze about expectant mothers demanding ice cream topped with pickles.

She scooped up a spoonful and offered it in my direction. “Would you like to try some? It’s heavenly.”

I demurred, excusing myself as gracefully as I could on the (entirely truthful) grounds that I wasn’t hungry, and headed back to my surgery. I made certain to close the door behind me, and opened the windows.

For some reason, the breeze coming into the room smelled worse than the durian that Athena was busily consuming.




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