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Very Fawnedly Yours
© 2013 by Walter Reimer
(All characters courtesy of
EOCostello, 
MercMarten and 
Major Matt Mason. Any resemblance between characters depicted herein and any real person, living or dead, is too bad for them.)
The setting is Spontoon Island, in the story section Let's Doe It (Let's Fall In Love).
Art by
turnbolt
__________________________________________________
Part 53.
Willow:
That night, thanks to a few phone calls, Reggie and I attended a performance of Merry Wives of Windsor, with Tyrone Bowser as Falstaff. We had a good laugh at the antics on the stage.
A few of them reminded us of some of Reggie’s adventures on Spontoon, although he’d never been heaved into a ditch while locked inside a laundry basket.
At least, not as far as I know.
Dinner that night was at the Grazier, Chicago’s best herbivore restaurant. At one point in the dinner the conversation turned toward the meeting earlier in the day.
“What are you thinking about, Reggie?”
“Just thinking about our performance, love.”
“What about?”
“Just wondering what Artie Wisent would have made of it.”
I blew him a kiss. “I don’t think Artie would have handled it like we did.”
“True. No non-anthrop hamsters in evidence.”
I boggled at him a bit, and he explained that the hamster gag was one of ‘Tons o’ Fun’s’ ways of relieving boredom at Penn.
“Yes, hamsters would have been inappropriate.”
“True.” There was a pause, and we both started laughing.
Over dessert I happened to glance around, and turned my eyes back to my plate. “Reggie.”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t be too obvious about it, but look to your right. See the guy in the corner, all by himself?”
“Hmm. The ram?”
“Yes, him.”
“Who is he?” Reggie asked. He took a sip of his coffee.
“Paul Ricca.”
“Old boyfriend?”
I resisted the urge to kick him under the table. “Not on your life. He’s the organized crime boss of Chicago.”
Reggie’s eyes went wide and in a quieter voice he asked, “How do you know? Minkerton’s business?”
“Never met him, socially or otherwise, but the agency let us all know who was who whenever there was a change.”
“Sensible. I thought the boss was Nutti.”
“Nitti.”
“Whatever. So we're not buying him a bumper of champagne, then?"
I shushed him, and grinned. "Don't say 'bumper' here, Reggie. It sounds too much like 'bump off.'"
"Oh. Righto. I wondered why our waiter flinched." He ate some of his orange soufflé. "Willow, do you have a pencil with an eraser?"
"Why?"
“There's a mark on this menu I want to rub out."
"Reggie . . . " I glanced around and saw ears perking, while the waiter looked a bit pale. Silly rabbit.
"Now look, you'll make our waiter so nervous he'll spill the water pitcher on himself."
"Ah. So he’ll be sleeping with the fishes, will he?"
***
Gwladys:
“They seem to work well together, don’t they?”
My mate grumbled and reread the report Reggie had sent him about his trip to Chicago. It seemed to be a fair solution to the problem, and made sure that the company wouldn’t see any drop in production.
At the end was an expense report for $872.10, and a note from Reggie.
“Comments: An airsick doe is no fun.”
Joss grumbled again.
“What’s that, Joss? I didn’t hear you.”
“I said, woman, that he never should have taken her with him.”
“And why not? She’s his wife, you know.”
“Don’t remind me. I told him to go there and lose his temper.”
“Admit it, Joss; what he did – with Willow’s help – was effective. The workers are back at work, and the company’s running at full speed again.” I looked at him. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”
He grumbled a bit more before nodding grudgingly.
“Good. Now they’re off again, for Hawaii.”
***
Reggie:
We had stopped off in Denver, and while Willow and I admired the sight of the Rocky Mountains gleaming in the sun, more of those dratted boxes and more newspapers were brought on board.
I had got hold of a copy of the Seathl Clarion. The Rain Island paper is sold in a few places in the American West.
“What are you reading, Reggie?”
“Rocket Rat.”
“Why?”
I could guess that Grace was asking the same question. Given her opinion of New Haven’s current leadership, I can only wonder how she feels about Rain Island.
“It’s one of my favorite cartoon strips. Always tried to read it when I was on Spontoon.” I smiled at her. “And it makes a break from reading all that rubbish in the boxes.”
“Hmm.”
“Hey! Give that back!”
“You’ll get it back later. I need a break, too.”
I sat back and drank my coffee as Willow got caught up on the foul machinations of the evil Lord Myu and his lynxess henchwomen, Kat and Nip. After a moment she passed the paper back to me and said, “Honestly, I think the artist is a high school kid.”
“Oh?”
“Well, at least he has the imagination of one, judging from the look of the women.”
“You can cut it out and send it to Rosie, then. Although I would imagine they’d anticipate her poinking something other than noses.”
Willow gave me a look. “I don’t wish to know that.” She grinned suddenly. “I say I say I say, Reggie.”
“What’s that, Willow?”
“What is it that has twenty legs and one garter?”
I blinked. “I don’t know – what is it that has twenty legs and a garter?”
“One of Rosie’s more successful parties.”
We both started laughing as the train left Denver, headed west.
<PREVIOUS><FIRST><NEXT>
© 2013 by Walter Reimer
(All characters courtesy of
EOCostello, 
MercMarten and 
Major Matt Mason. Any resemblance between characters depicted herein and any real person, living or dead, is too bad for them.)The setting is Spontoon Island, in the story section Let's Doe It (Let's Fall In Love).
Art by
turnbolt__________________________________________________
Part 53.
Willow:
That night, thanks to a few phone calls, Reggie and I attended a performance of Merry Wives of Windsor, with Tyrone Bowser as Falstaff. We had a good laugh at the antics on the stage.
A few of them reminded us of some of Reggie’s adventures on Spontoon, although he’d never been heaved into a ditch while locked inside a laundry basket.
At least, not as far as I know.
Dinner that night was at the Grazier, Chicago’s best herbivore restaurant. At one point in the dinner the conversation turned toward the meeting earlier in the day.
“What are you thinking about, Reggie?”
“Just thinking about our performance, love.”
“What about?”
“Just wondering what Artie Wisent would have made of it.”
I blew him a kiss. “I don’t think Artie would have handled it like we did.”
“True. No non-anthrop hamsters in evidence.”
I boggled at him a bit, and he explained that the hamster gag was one of ‘Tons o’ Fun’s’ ways of relieving boredom at Penn.
“Yes, hamsters would have been inappropriate.”
“True.” There was a pause, and we both started laughing.
Over dessert I happened to glance around, and turned my eyes back to my plate. “Reggie.”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t be too obvious about it, but look to your right. See the guy in the corner, all by himself?”
“Hmm. The ram?”
“Yes, him.”
“Who is he?” Reggie asked. He took a sip of his coffee.
“Paul Ricca.”
“Old boyfriend?”
I resisted the urge to kick him under the table. “Not on your life. He’s the organized crime boss of Chicago.”
Reggie’s eyes went wide and in a quieter voice he asked, “How do you know? Minkerton’s business?”
“Never met him, socially or otherwise, but the agency let us all know who was who whenever there was a change.”
“Sensible. I thought the boss was Nutti.”
“Nitti.”
“Whatever. So we're not buying him a bumper of champagne, then?"
I shushed him, and grinned. "Don't say 'bumper' here, Reggie. It sounds too much like 'bump off.'"
"Oh. Righto. I wondered why our waiter flinched." He ate some of his orange soufflé. "Willow, do you have a pencil with an eraser?"
"Why?"
“There's a mark on this menu I want to rub out."
"Reggie . . . " I glanced around and saw ears perking, while the waiter looked a bit pale. Silly rabbit.
"Now look, you'll make our waiter so nervous he'll spill the water pitcher on himself."
"Ah. So he’ll be sleeping with the fishes, will he?"
***
Gwladys:
“They seem to work well together, don’t they?”
My mate grumbled and reread the report Reggie had sent him about his trip to Chicago. It seemed to be a fair solution to the problem, and made sure that the company wouldn’t see any drop in production.
At the end was an expense report for $872.10, and a note from Reggie.
“Comments: An airsick doe is no fun.”
Joss grumbled again.
“What’s that, Joss? I didn’t hear you.”
“I said, woman, that he never should have taken her with him.”
“And why not? She’s his wife, you know.”
“Don’t remind me. I told him to go there and lose his temper.”
“Admit it, Joss; what he did – with Willow’s help – was effective. The workers are back at work, and the company’s running at full speed again.” I looked at him. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”
He grumbled a bit more before nodding grudgingly.
“Good. Now they’re off again, for Hawaii.”
***
Reggie:
We had stopped off in Denver, and while Willow and I admired the sight of the Rocky Mountains gleaming in the sun, more of those dratted boxes and more newspapers were brought on board.
I had got hold of a copy of the Seathl Clarion. The Rain Island paper is sold in a few places in the American West.
“What are you reading, Reggie?”
“Rocket Rat.”
“Why?”
I could guess that Grace was asking the same question. Given her opinion of New Haven’s current leadership, I can only wonder how she feels about Rain Island.
“It’s one of my favorite cartoon strips. Always tried to read it when I was on Spontoon.” I smiled at her. “And it makes a break from reading all that rubbish in the boxes.”
“Hmm.”
“Hey! Give that back!”
“You’ll get it back later. I need a break, too.”
I sat back and drank my coffee as Willow got caught up on the foul machinations of the evil Lord Myu and his lynxess henchwomen, Kat and Nip. After a moment she passed the paper back to me and said, “Honestly, I think the artist is a high school kid.”
“Oh?”
“Well, at least he has the imagination of one, judging from the look of the women.”
“You can cut it out and send it to Rosie, then. Although I would imagine they’d anticipate her poinking something other than noses.”
Willow gave me a look. “I don’t wish to know that.” She grinned suddenly. “I say I say I say, Reggie.”
“What’s that, Willow?”
“What is it that has twenty legs and one garter?”
I blinked. “I don’t know – what is it that has twenty legs and a garter?”
“One of Rosie’s more successful parties.”
We both started laughing as the train left Denver, headed west.
<PREVIOUS><FIRST><NEXT>
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Cervine (Other)
Size 932 x 1280px
File Size 257.5 kB
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