FA+
Shop
5146 submissions
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
KatieKat
August 23, 1938
Dr. Meffit:
It’s good manners, of course, to rise from one’s chair when a woman enters a room, but in this case I stood up with a smile, because the cheetah femme being shown into the surgery by Nurse was a personal (and family) friend. “Ah, Miss Baumgartner. Come in and take a seat, please. I don’t usually see you in my professional capacity. Thank you, Nurse,” and the sugar glider closed the door behind her. “Now, what seems to be the problem?”
Rosie shrugged after she sat down, her tail flicking back and forth listlessly. She was slightly chubby, which in Yiddish would be called zaftig. Of course, she and I were landsmen, so there was that level of relationship aside from ‘friend.’ Still, she was here as a patient, so I listened closely as she said, “I haven’t been feeling okeh for a few days, like I’m coming down with something.”
I nodded. “Well, I’ll perform an exam, and take a blood sample. When was your last physical?”
The cheetah frowned for a moment. “About three years. I think.”
Tch. “Then you’re overdue. Do you need Nurse, in case – ah,” and I rolled my eyes as Rosie quite simply stood up and started taking off her blouse. “I forgot what you used to do for a living. Well, once you get into the gown over there, please have a seat on the exam table.”
***
August 27, 1938
Vicky:
“Rosie! Phone call for you!”
My boss came around the lunch counter and mouthed thank you to me before starting to take the call, leaving me to mind the customers. Speed Week’s always a busy time, even during tourist season, and Luchow’s is packed most days. Things had got so bad that Rosie had hired on two native otter girls, twins, to help me tackle the increased business.
Suki and Teri are from Spontoon South Island, and they speak English well enough to take orders and not take any guff off grabby tourists. Rosie didn’t have any worries about their ability to take care of themselves. When B’onss and K’nutt, the two dimbulb foxes who clear tables, wash dishes (when they ain’t breaking them) and help out generally offered some improper proposals to them, the two tods spent quite a while yowling while both girls boxed their ears.
The floor show actually brought in more tips and increased business for a couple days.
So I was taking one customer’s order (nicely-built fox from America, but he had his family with him so no flirting) when my ears perked and swiveled at a sound. “Rosie? What’s up?”
My boss was standing by the phone, her paw poised like she was still holding the phone’s pawset. The pawset was laying on the floor, connected to the rest of the wall-mounted phone by its cord.
Rosie wasn’t moving.
"Rosie?" I picked up the pawset and hung up the phone. My cheetah chum (yes, she’s a friend, not just my boss) just stood there, rooted to the ground with her tail trailing limply around her feet. "Rosie, are you okeh?" I was about to put my paws on her shoulders to give her a little shake when Rosie stirred, her lips moving as she whispered in Yiddish.
My ears cocked and I listened closely as Rosie murmured over and over, "Vos vet ikh zogn Franneleh?”
Now, I was a carny before settling in Spontoon, and the traveling shows I threw knives for had been to parts of the United States that had Jewish communities. So I understood the lingo, a little.
“What do I tell Franneleh?”
***
August 29, 1938
Rosie:
How do I tell him?
The question had been weighing on my mind for a few days. Weighing? Oy, like sitting on my head like a lead weight, I’m telling you.
I had to tell him at some point, though. The longer I wait, the more obvious it’d start getting, and believe me when I tell you that while Franklin Stagg may be lame from the damage to his hoof, he certainly isn’t blind.
Luckily it seemed that he’d had a quiet day at work, and he was leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed as I gave him a hoofrub.
Now or never . . .
“Um, Franneleh?”
“Hmm . . . yes, Rosie?”
I kept rubbing his hooves. It kept my paws busy so I could focus on choosing just the right words. “I . . . well, I haven’t been feeling well lately.”
“Yes, I noticed.”
I sneaked a glance at him. Good, his eyes were still closed. “So I, um, went to see Doc Meffit.”
I glanced at him again.
My whitetail buck was now gazing up at the ceiling.
I tried not to be too obvious about it, but I gulped and kept rubbing his hooves. “I heard back from him.” There was a pregnant pause.
The pause had whelped a litter of puppies by the time Franneleh asked, “And?” His expression was completely unreadable.
I looked up at his poker face, and damn if some invisible cat had made off with my tongue. Beat it, kid; this is my side of the street. “Uh . . . er, this . . . um, that is . . . “ Before I could get very far, the hooves left my paws and planted themselves on the floor. I looked up as Franklin stood up. He looked down at me for a few seconds that, I swear, felt like years.
“Stand up,” he said in that soft, dry voice of his, but there was an edge to the words, and his expression could put poker players around the world to shame.
What could I do? I started this ball rolling, so I obeyed, and seemingly couldn’t meet his gaze.
“Look at me.”
I usually didn’t scare worth a damn. Now, though?
My heart was hammering in my chest and my paws felt sweaty. I had to force myself to look up at his face.
His expression was . . . stern, but not hateful. I – I don’t think that I could have survived that.
“What are you trying to say?” He placed his paws on my shoulders, squeezing slightly.
“Um . . . well, ah, what I’m trying to say, F-Franneleh, is . . . I’m pregnant.”
Another pregnant pause, and this time it whelped two litters.
I lowered my head and I could feel my breath catching.
I felt his paw grip my chin and I felt tears stinging my eyes as I met his gaze. “I – I’m sorry,” I finally managed to choke out.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” my gallant buck said softly, and he bent to kiss me.
And kiss me he did.
Good Lord, what a scorcher, too. I felt my tail lock to one side as the kiss grew longer and deeper. I think I even moaned, just a little.
His lips drew back, and my eyes opened, blinking up at him –
In time to see him smile.
“Wh-homina homina homina . . . “
“I was wondering when you were going to tell me,” Stagg said.
My brain promptly threw up its paws and said “I’m outta here. You’re on your own, girl.”
“You . . . you knew?” I squeaked. “Who? How?”
“The ‘how’ was simple.” Franklin’s smile widened just a bit. “I have been through this before, if you’ll recall. As to ‘who,’ you did, just now.”
Remember that I said my brain had decided to go on vacation? I think it went to Asbury Park. I was reduced to simply blinking up at Franklin as my buck – my lovely, gallant, father of my child buck - gently guided me into my favorite chair. He tugged the ottoman over and sat facing me as I finally managed to get my mouth working. “Franklin? Love?”
“Yes, Rosie?”
“You . . . you’re not mad – at me?”
He took my paws in both of his. “How could I be?” he asked. “Your love’s given me a new lease on life, Rosie.” His ears swiveled. “And I think that I’d be mad at myself more than at you. It does take two to tango, as they say.” He bent and kissed my paws, then fished his pawkerchief out and offered it to me. “You’re crying, Rosie.”
Was I?
I just figured someone was slicing onions somewhere.
“I’m happy, Franneleh,” I managed to choke out. I took the kerchief and dabbed at my eyes for a minute, then blew my nose. “Oy, you have no idea how happy I am. But – “
“Marriage?” My whitetail buck nodded, looking thoughtful. “Obviously, I am going to make an honest woman of you – “ He paused as I chuckled despite myself “ – but there are practical matters to consider.”
Didn’t I know it. I own a restaurant, and I do really well with it, but I’m not rich. And Franneleh – well, a policefur, even an Inspector, isn’t a wealthy fur. So there was that.
There was also the matter of telling Certain People.
<NEXT>
A Spontoon Island story
© 2022 Walter Reimer
(Characters courtesy of M. Mitch Marmel, J.T. Urie and E.O. Costello. Thanks!)
Thumbnail art by
KatieKatAugust 23, 1938
Dr. Meffit:
It’s good manners, of course, to rise from one’s chair when a woman enters a room, but in this case I stood up with a smile, because the cheetah femme being shown into the surgery by Nurse was a personal (and family) friend. “Ah, Miss Baumgartner. Come in and take a seat, please. I don’t usually see you in my professional capacity. Thank you, Nurse,” and the sugar glider closed the door behind her. “Now, what seems to be the problem?”
Rosie shrugged after she sat down, her tail flicking back and forth listlessly. She was slightly chubby, which in Yiddish would be called zaftig. Of course, she and I were landsmen, so there was that level of relationship aside from ‘friend.’ Still, she was here as a patient, so I listened closely as she said, “I haven’t been feeling okeh for a few days, like I’m coming down with something.”
I nodded. “Well, I’ll perform an exam, and take a blood sample. When was your last physical?”
The cheetah frowned for a moment. “About three years. I think.”
Tch. “Then you’re overdue. Do you need Nurse, in case – ah,” and I rolled my eyes as Rosie quite simply stood up and started taking off her blouse. “I forgot what you used to do for a living. Well, once you get into the gown over there, please have a seat on the exam table.”
***
August 27, 1938
Vicky:
“Rosie! Phone call for you!”
My boss came around the lunch counter and mouthed thank you to me before starting to take the call, leaving me to mind the customers. Speed Week’s always a busy time, even during tourist season, and Luchow’s is packed most days. Things had got so bad that Rosie had hired on two native otter girls, twins, to help me tackle the increased business.
Suki and Teri are from Spontoon South Island, and they speak English well enough to take orders and not take any guff off grabby tourists. Rosie didn’t have any worries about their ability to take care of themselves. When B’onss and K’nutt, the two dimbulb foxes who clear tables, wash dishes (when they ain’t breaking them) and help out generally offered some improper proposals to them, the two tods spent quite a while yowling while both girls boxed their ears.
The floor show actually brought in more tips and increased business for a couple days.
So I was taking one customer’s order (nicely-built fox from America, but he had his family with him so no flirting) when my ears perked and swiveled at a sound. “Rosie? What’s up?”
My boss was standing by the phone, her paw poised like she was still holding the phone’s pawset. The pawset was laying on the floor, connected to the rest of the wall-mounted phone by its cord.
Rosie wasn’t moving.
"Rosie?" I picked up the pawset and hung up the phone. My cheetah chum (yes, she’s a friend, not just my boss) just stood there, rooted to the ground with her tail trailing limply around her feet. "Rosie, are you okeh?" I was about to put my paws on her shoulders to give her a little shake when Rosie stirred, her lips moving as she whispered in Yiddish.
My ears cocked and I listened closely as Rosie murmured over and over, "Vos vet ikh zogn Franneleh?”
Now, I was a carny before settling in Spontoon, and the traveling shows I threw knives for had been to parts of the United States that had Jewish communities. So I understood the lingo, a little.
“What do I tell Franneleh?”
***
August 29, 1938
Rosie:
How do I tell him?
The question had been weighing on my mind for a few days. Weighing? Oy, like sitting on my head like a lead weight, I’m telling you.
I had to tell him at some point, though. The longer I wait, the more obvious it’d start getting, and believe me when I tell you that while Franklin Stagg may be lame from the damage to his hoof, he certainly isn’t blind.
Luckily it seemed that he’d had a quiet day at work, and he was leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed as I gave him a hoofrub.
Now or never . . .
“Um, Franneleh?”
“Hmm . . . yes, Rosie?”
I kept rubbing his hooves. It kept my paws busy so I could focus on choosing just the right words. “I . . . well, I haven’t been feeling well lately.”
“Yes, I noticed.”
I sneaked a glance at him. Good, his eyes were still closed. “So I, um, went to see Doc Meffit.”
I glanced at him again.
My whitetail buck was now gazing up at the ceiling.
I tried not to be too obvious about it, but I gulped and kept rubbing his hooves. “I heard back from him.” There was a pregnant pause.
The pause had whelped a litter of puppies by the time Franneleh asked, “And?” His expression was completely unreadable.
I looked up at his poker face, and damn if some invisible cat had made off with my tongue. Beat it, kid; this is my side of the street. “Uh . . . er, this . . . um, that is . . . “ Before I could get very far, the hooves left my paws and planted themselves on the floor. I looked up as Franklin stood up. He looked down at me for a few seconds that, I swear, felt like years.
“Stand up,” he said in that soft, dry voice of his, but there was an edge to the words, and his expression could put poker players around the world to shame.
What could I do? I started this ball rolling, so I obeyed, and seemingly couldn’t meet his gaze.
“Look at me.”
I usually didn’t scare worth a damn. Now, though?
My heart was hammering in my chest and my paws felt sweaty. I had to force myself to look up at his face.
His expression was . . . stern, but not hateful. I – I don’t think that I could have survived that.
“What are you trying to say?” He placed his paws on my shoulders, squeezing slightly.
“Um . . . well, ah, what I’m trying to say, F-Franneleh, is . . . I’m pregnant.”
Another pregnant pause, and this time it whelped two litters.
I lowered my head and I could feel my breath catching.
I felt his paw grip my chin and I felt tears stinging my eyes as I met his gaze. “I – I’m sorry,” I finally managed to choke out.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” my gallant buck said softly, and he bent to kiss me.
And kiss me he did.
Good Lord, what a scorcher, too. I felt my tail lock to one side as the kiss grew longer and deeper. I think I even moaned, just a little.
His lips drew back, and my eyes opened, blinking up at him –
In time to see him smile.
“Wh-homina homina homina . . . “
“I was wondering when you were going to tell me,” Stagg said.
My brain promptly threw up its paws and said “I’m outta here. You’re on your own, girl.”
“You . . . you knew?” I squeaked. “Who? How?”
“The ‘how’ was simple.” Franklin’s smile widened just a bit. “I have been through this before, if you’ll recall. As to ‘who,’ you did, just now.”
Remember that I said my brain had decided to go on vacation? I think it went to Asbury Park. I was reduced to simply blinking up at Franklin as my buck – my lovely, gallant, father of my child buck - gently guided me into my favorite chair. He tugged the ottoman over and sat facing me as I finally managed to get my mouth working. “Franklin? Love?”
“Yes, Rosie?”
“You . . . you’re not mad – at me?”
He took my paws in both of his. “How could I be?” he asked. “Your love’s given me a new lease on life, Rosie.” His ears swiveled. “And I think that I’d be mad at myself more than at you. It does take two to tango, as they say.” He bent and kissed my paws, then fished his pawkerchief out and offered it to me. “You’re crying, Rosie.”
Was I?
I just figured someone was slicing onions somewhere.
“I’m happy, Franneleh,” I managed to choke out. I took the kerchief and dabbed at my eyes for a minute, then blew my nose. “Oy, you have no idea how happy I am. But – “
“Marriage?” My whitetail buck nodded, looking thoughtful. “Obviously, I am going to make an honest woman of you – “ He paused as I chuckled despite myself “ – but there are practical matters to consider.”
Didn’t I know it. I own a restaurant, and I do really well with it, but I’m not rich. And Franneleh – well, a policefur, even an Inspector, isn’t a wealthy fur. So there was that.
There was also the matter of telling Certain People.
<NEXT>
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Cheetah
Size 714 x 1068px
File Size 199.1 kB
Listed in Folders
Old Frankie show that he still can surprise a fur.
Man, I thought
Major Matt Mason's upload was part two of this tale
Man, I thought
Major Matt Mason's upload was part two of this tale 
Comments