And On That Note
A Spontoon Island story
© 2023 by Walter Reimer
(Various characters are copyright their respective owners.)

Thumbnail art by  KatieKat

Five.



Mary’s ears flicked at the sound of halting hoofsteps coming up the stairs, and she opened the door as the whitetail buck approached the landing. “Good evening, Inspector,” the vixen said. “Rosie’s in the kitchen getting dinner ready.”

Stagg smiled. “So Miss Knox told me. “You’re leaving, Miss Brush?”

“Yes, I’m done for the day,” Mary replied, “but I’ll be back tomorrow morning, of course. The twins were little angels.”

“Heh. You’ve just met them,” the fawns’ father said, and as he stepped into the apartment over the restaurant the vixen stepped out and headed down the stairs. “Rosie?” he asked, closing the door.

“Hello, Franneleh! Hang on a moment,” and as he sat down in his favorite chair the cheetah came out of the kitchen. She was wearing an apron over her clothes, and she smelled of mushrooms as she kissed him. “Did you have a good day?”

“A quiet one,” he said, returning the kiss and smiling up at her. “Are you all right?”

“I’m okeh,” she said. “I’m trying something new for your dinner tonight.”

“Oh? I thought I smelled mushrooms.”

She smiled. “That’s part of it,” and her tail pointed at the two sleeping infants in their crib. “Mary said they were well-behaved.” She snorted. “Probably planning something. Now, you get ready for supper, it’ll be ready in a few minutes.” She helped him to his hooves and returned to the kitchen as he went to wash his paws.

He had washed up and shed his tie and suit jacket by the time he sat down at the table and he swiveled his ears at the contents of the plate Rosie set in front of him. “What’s this?” he asked at the sight of a fried patty, dressed with a light coating of tomato sauce and accompanied by sautéed vegetables. The patty wasn’t very large, because she knew he ate sparingly.

“Well,” Rosie said as she placed her own plate on the table and removed her apron, “Nick’s been hiding his light under a bushel. He had this one herbivore recipe he hadn’t put on the menu yet, and after he told me about it I had to try it.” She sat down. “Just a taste?”

“Hm.” He took up his fork and cut into the patty, brought the morsel to his mouth and chewed.

His eyes lit up. “That tastes wonderful,” he said. “Mushrooms?”

Rosie nodded happily. “Mostly, yeah, with some rice and a few other things. I made sure it wasn’t spicy, and very light on the sauce.”

“It’s very tasty, and thank you for caring about my stomachs.” He leaned over, she met him halfway, and they shared a kiss before he resumed eating. Rosie cut into her sautéed chicken breast and her ears perked when he asked, “How are you doing?”

“Me? Oh, we had a good day – “

“Miss Knox said you seemed to be nervous.”

Rosie took a sip of her iced tea and sighed. “Yeah, I am. Luchow’s has done pretty well for the past couple years, especially during Speed Week. With all the tsuris going on, I’m worried that people will stay away.”

For a moment, Stagg ate while a faraway look came to his eyes. He swallowed what he had been eating and said, “So far it doesn’t seem to be spreading, and it’s gone on for almost a year now.”

“I know, but – eh, I’m probably worrying over nothing.”

“Plan for the worst,” Stagg said before taking a sip of ice water, “but hope for the best.”

His wife grinned at him. “Always sound advice.” Their ears perked almost simultaneously. “The children are waking up. I’ll go see if they want dinner or a change.” She got up, kissed her husband, and went over to the crib.


***


This gum is great, K’nutt Karoksson thought to himself as he wandered around, blissfully chewing. The coconut flavor had a little pineapple and cinnamon mixed in, and it was holding its flavor well so far.

And this was only the first piece!

He had decided to see just how long it would take for the piece of gum to lose its flavor, so after Rosie had let him and B’onss go, he had stuffed a piece of Bubble Cud in his mouth and started walking. Two laps of Meeting Island later, he’d encountered B’onss again and made fun of his suit.

K’nutt resumed his walking, hopping a water taxi over to Casino Island and then to Eastern Island, where he could watch the planes coming in and taking off. Speed Week was due to start in a few days, so there were a lot of really interesting-looking planes to be seen.

Most of the hangars were surrounded by fences and armed guards to keep the would-be saboteurs and the curious out, and the young tod walked past them, chewing placidly, until he reached the last hangar.

This building had seen better days, with some of the corrugated tin panels either corroding or fallen away. A green flag hung limply by two corners from the wooden doorframe it had been nailed to, and the sounds of hammering and assorted shouts attracted his attention. The place was unguarded, and no one tried to stop him from walking inside.

An airplane with wheels on its floats sat in the center of the hangar, with its propeller and engine cowlings removed. A burly beagle in grimy coveralls was perched on a ladder, busily striking the engine with a large and obviously heavy mallet.

“Cushlamacri!” yelped the wolfhound on the other side of the engine. “What th’ blazes ye think ye’re doin’, Paddy O’Hennessy?”

The beagle stopped beating the engine. “Me ol’ Gran says, if’n there’s anythin’ mechaniwockle, ye should give it a fair bashin’ if it ain’t workin,’ achudth.”

“Aye, an’ is it so?” the wolfhound countered. “That’s as may be, but ye’re doin’ it wrong.”

“Wrong?” Paddy demanded.

“Aye!” The wolfhound pointed. “There’s where ye need t’be afther bashin’ it.”

The beagle’s ears drooped. “An’ is it so, Seamus?” he asked contritely.

“Aye, it is so,” Seamus said. “Ye see this bit, right here?” he asked, reaching over the engine and pointing at an area along the left valve cover.

“Aye, an’ I do.”

“Foine. I’m afther tryin’ t’start this puir beast, so when I nods m’head, I want ye t’hit it.”

“Right.”

Seamus hit the ignition of the engine, and as a prolonged growling echoed through the hangar, the wolfhound nodded.

And promptly yelped, grabbing his head with both paws and almost falling off his ladder. “What th’ divil?” Seamus growled.

“And was it yerself, now, who told me that when ye nods yer head, I’m t’afther give it a bash?” Paddy shouted.

K’nutt walked over, still chewing, and looked at the engine as it growled, trying valiantly to turn over as the two mechanics bickered. The argument was quickly descending into personalities, along with the two disputants descending their respective ladders. The beagle dragged over a stout wooden box so he could stand on it and look the taller wolfhound in the eye.

The engine, now neglected, continued to growl. It seemed to be having trouble turning over and starting.

Usually it was B’onss who dealt with mechanical stuff, but he wasn’t here. K’nutt went up one of the ladders and looked at the engine, but looking at it wasn’t helping. While standing on the ladder, he realized something.

His chewing gum had finally lost its flavor.

The tod took the well-chewed wad from his mouth and looked at it.

Well, he had to put it somewhere.

The two canines, beagle and wolfhound, stopped their arguing as the engine sputtered, growled, coughed, and then roared to life. They blinked at it and looked up at the young native tod-fox on the ladder.

“Wh-Wh-What?” K’nutt asked.


***


“Well! Look at what the cat dragged in.”

B’onss Karoksson felt his blood run cold as he stopped, half inside the family longhouse. A single light was on, and his older sister Kara sat beside it, reading a book. The vixen was grinning at him.

How had he managed to get home? he wondered.

“What?” he asked.

Kara gave a soft snort. “Keep your voice down, little brother; you don’t want to wake up Ma or Pa, you know. Um. Did you know you’ve split the back of your pants?”

“Huh?” So that was why that one fat Euro lady kept yelling.

Or maybe it was because he wasn’t wearing anything under his suit.

“Uh, nope. Guess they went durin’ th’ show,” he said, his ears dipping in embarrassment. “I kept jumpin’ up t’clap my paws.”

“Good show, huh?” she asked, leaning forward in her chair and propping her chin with a paw.

“Yeah, th’ music was good, but th’ singer . . . aw, Kara, she was beautiful. Her tail was perfect.”

“Do tell.” She knew that her brother Orrin might get distracted by a femme’s tailfur if it were bushy enough, and the vixen was aware she felt the same way about some of the tods she dated.

Guess it ran somewhat in the family.

B’onss warmed to his subject, talking about the skunk femme’s beauty, her voice, her tailfur, her gown, her tailfur, her graceful movements, her tailfur, until Kara cleared her throat to interrupt him. “Sounds like you had a great time, B’onss,” she said, “but it’s late, and you have work tomorrow, right?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah.”

“And we’ll have a talk with Ma tomorrow.”

“Huh? Why?”

The vixen smirked. “Someone has to stitch your pants up.”



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