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And On That Note
A Spontoon Island story
© 2023 by Walter Reimer
(Various characters are copyright their respective owners.)
Thumbnail art by
TheTiedTigress
Twenty-six.
K’nutt watched the nondescript canine in the flying suit stalk away, trailed by the beagle and the wolfhound. He looked angry for some reason.
The young tod-fox scratched his head.
It was the first time he’d heard Timmeen speak.
Being Spontoonie, he had seen or heard of many unusual things, although he’d never met a Wild Priest (they were considered to be heralds of doom, so his mother said, so he never wanted to meet one). He chalked up the pilot’s behavior to just such an unusual occurrence and headed for the water taxis to join the Irish East Indies team in storing their plane in its hangar.
***
“You okay, Michelle?” Betty asked as the spotted skunk was putting earrings on.
The mephit stopped, looking herself in the dressing room mirror. “Yeah, pretty much. In a way, I’m glad Winnie showed up when she did. Lord knows I don’t what I would have done if B’onss wanted to take it any further – or Kara, for that matter.” The reflection gave a lopsided smile. “Made me feel a little like a prostitute, you know?”
“You would’ve thought of something,” Betty said.
“You’re not union here anyway,” Veronica added, earning her a glare from Betty that she returned calmly.
The new stage manager knocked, waited a few seconds, and opened the door slightly. “Michelle? You almost ready?”
“Almost there,” the skunk replied. “Am I on next?”
“Nah,” the new fellow, a native Spontoonie fox, replied. “Got a new comic in from Rain Island, and he’s still doing his set.”
“Gotcha.” The spotted skunk finished putting on her earrings and got up from the makeup table to get her dress on.
***
The comedian, a bear in a loud plaid suit and battered fedora, grinned as most of the crowd applauded his latest joke about President Long. That told him that the majority of his audience were Yankees.
“It’s always great to see so many Americans,” he said when the applause had died down. “I’ve got a friend down in San Francisco, and he calls me up one day when I’m in town. I want to hit a bar and I ask him, ‘Are you free tonight?’ He answers, ‘Sure I am! I’m American.’” That drew an amused chuckle, and the drummer in the band supplied a brief staccato on a snare drum.
The bear gave him a sour look. “Thanks.” The drummer cheekily replied with a single note on a triangle, and a few in the audience laughed at the comedian’s put-out expression.
“We have to remind ourselves,” he said, “that we’re here in the sunny Spontoons. Let’s give them a round of applause for being so hospitable, um?” and he led the applause. When it subsided, he said, “The Spontoonies are very welcoming, and I’ll give you an example. One of the wheels in their police force is a fellow from New Haven – I know, right?” he said as a murmur swept through the room. “Now,” he said, raising an admonitory paw, “he’s not Red Fist – but I’ll bet the Althing’s keeping an eye out in case he does anything revolutionary.” He added a broad, knowing wink as he stressed the last word, causing some laughter.
“And I heard that this guy – good Catholic, you know, from New Haven – got himself hitched over here, so good for him, right? And she’s a cheetah, not a deer.” He winked. “Imagine the conversation at bedtime,” and he switched to a falsetto as he started doing the voices in an imaginary conversation.
“’Darling, let us consummate our love.’
“’Beloved,’” he said in a deeper voice, “’we cannot.’
“’But why?’
“’Because it's Lent.’
He gave it a two-second beat.
“’Well, who'd you lend it to and for how long?’”
The laughter was loud and prolonged, and the bear grinned. Trust a bunch of Yankees to like a good, somewhat naughty joke. When the laughter stopped, he said, “So they decide to wait until Easter and stay in separate rooms until then. Easter morning, there's a hammering on the cheetah's door,” and again he started doing the voices.
“’Oh, darling!’” he said in falsetto. “’I know what you're hammering for!’
“’Yeah, but do you know what I'm hammering WITH?’”
Winnie, seated next to the stage, applauded and laughed along with the rest of the crowd as the comedian acknowledged the crowd. The clouded leopard mix did a double-take as two familiar foxes took seats at her table. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said. “Either of you.”
“We had passes,” Kara said. “Whisky and soda for me,” she said to the waiter, “and an Orca-Cola for him,” and she jerked a thumb at B’onss, who was in his suit but sitting rather uncomfortably. “We need to wash out the taste of durian.”
Being partly Burmese and raised in Southeast Asia, Winnie immediately understood. She shuddered. “So, um, no trouble tonight?”
B’onss said, “Nope. I ain’t startin’ nothing.”
“Me neither,” Kara grumbled.
The drinks arrived as the comedian left the stage to applause and a bouncy tune from the band. The master of ceremonies stepped out, clapping his paws before stepping up to the microphone. “That was Vern LaVern, ladies and gentlemen! Now, we’d like to bring out the featured singer for tonight. She’s from the Sea Bear Republic, so put your paws together for – Michelle!” and the audience applauded as the spotted skunk came out, dropping a slight curtsy to the emcee. She whispered something to the bandleader before walking to the microphone.
“Good evening, everyone,” Michelle said in her warm contralto. “My first song is something special, for someone very special,” and she nodded to the band.
The tune was in foxtrot time, and the mephit swayed slightly to the beat before singing:
“I’m as pleasant as the morning
And refreshing as the rain
Isn't it a pity
That I’m such a scatterbrain?
“When I smile it's so delightful
When I talk it's so insane
Still it's charming chatter, scatterbrain . . . “
Winnie grinned toothily, her tail swishing back and forth as Milo sang the adaptation she’d insisted he sing for her. Her boyfriend could be scatter-brained at times, but she loved him for it.
The other two at the table looked amused as Michelle sang. Kara chuckled at times, while B’onss tried to figure out why the spotted skunk was deliberately making fun of himself.
Still, all three applauded along with the rest of the audience when the song ended. Michell acknowledged the applause and straightened up as the band started playing another song.
A stagepaw had placed a martini glass on the piano, and Michell picked it up, sipped, and began to sing again.
“It was just one of those things
Just one of those crazy flings
One of those bells that now and then rings
Just one of those things
“It was just one of those nights
Just one of those fabulous flights
A trip to the moon on gossamer wings
Just one of those things . . . “
“He sings good,” B’onss remarked into his Orca-Cola.
***
Sunday September 3, 1939:
Rosie and Franklin gently nuzzled and kissed their grandchildren as the fawns’ parents looked on. Reluctantly giving Tommy to Reggie, Franklin said, “It’s been wonderful seeing you all. Rosie and I are sorry that you have to leave.”
Rosie nodded, nuzzling little Mary Rose. “Durn tootin’.” Willow stepped close, stepdaughter and stepmother kissing each other on the cheeks.
“Well, business never ends, does it, what?” Reggie said. “Strange to say, but the closer I get to London, the happier the board is.” The younger whitetail buck shook his head. “Still have trouble fathoming it.” He glanced behind him at the stewardess standing by the door of the seaplane. “I expect they’re waiting for us to get aboard.” He held Tommy one-armed before extending a paw to his father-in-law. “Wonderful to see you all, and I hope we can get back out here next year.”
“I hope so too,” Franklin said, shaking paws with Reggie. He then hugged and kissed Willow while Reggie got a hug from Rosie before the Buckhorns boarded Zephyr for the flight to Hawaii.
A few furs were gathered at the pier as the Staggs walked away, with one remarking to the other, “Been the quietest visit by the Buckhorns ever.”
“Yeah, well,” his companion said, “there’s always next year . . . “
Later that night, before he went to bed, Franklin Stagg looked in on his sleeping children before stepping haltingly into the bedroom he shared with Rosie. He gazed at her as she slept, recalling Sapohatan’s offer.
He heard Reggie say, “I’m thinking that you don’t have to be one of those weather chappies to know which way the wind’s blowing.”
He heard Ranua say, “We could always use an analyst, Inspector.”
The whitetail buck got into bed, and slowly surrendered to sleep.
***
Monday September 4, 1939:
“Hey, K’nutt!” Rosie called out, and as the young tod-fox came out of the kitchen she said, “Package for you.”
“M-M-More g-g-gum?” K’nutt stuttered. “G-G-G-Goody!”
The cheetah smiled and gave him the package, watching as he started to attack the wrapping. “Have you eaten all that gum?”
K’nutt shook his head. Rosie fancied she could hear something rattle. “N-N-No, R-Rosie, I g-g-got – ooh . . . “ He finished opening the brown paper and revealed the package.
The package was in blue and white, with a drawing of an elegantly attired owl in white tie and tails, seated in a rowboat facing a feline femme in a flowing white dress. A full moon shone over them, and the label read Cocomoons in art nouveau lettering.
A letter was on top of the box, and Rosie read it as K’nutt started opening the box. “’Dear Mister Karoksson, we here at F.R. Buckhorn and Sons would like to thank you for the many letters you have sent us in response to our request for suggestions. Please accept this box of FRB Cocomoons as a token of our thanks and appreciation.’” Rosie looked up from the letter as K’nutt succeeded in removing the lid. “Nice.”
Inside, individually wrapped, lay three stacks of four confections. Each was composed of a sweetened coconut patty with a rim and base of rich dark chocolate.
K’nutt unwrapped one, took a bite, and an expression of bliss spread across his features. He ate it slowly, savoring every bite until it was gone. “Th-Th-These are g-g-g-great,” he said.
"Ain'tcha gonna share wit' yer brudder?" B’onss asked, looking over his twin’s shoulder.
"N-n-n-n-n-o!" K’nutt wrapped his arms around the box protectively. "Y-You're s-s-s-still t-t-too b-busy eating y-y-y-your h-h-heart out."
Bo'nsss started to gekker and began chasing K'nutt, his brother clinging to the box for dear life and shouting, “I'm t-t-t-tellin' M-M-MA!"
“Ah, brotherly love,” Vicky said to Rosie, and both femmes started to laugh.
“Yeah,” Rosie said. “Nice to see things are getting back to normal around here.”
end
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST>
A Spontoon Island story
© 2023 by Walter Reimer
(Various characters are copyright their respective owners.)
Thumbnail art by
TheTiedTigressTwenty-six.
K’nutt watched the nondescript canine in the flying suit stalk away, trailed by the beagle and the wolfhound. He looked angry for some reason.
The young tod-fox scratched his head.
It was the first time he’d heard Timmeen speak.
Being Spontoonie, he had seen or heard of many unusual things, although he’d never met a Wild Priest (they were considered to be heralds of doom, so his mother said, so he never wanted to meet one). He chalked up the pilot’s behavior to just such an unusual occurrence and headed for the water taxis to join the Irish East Indies team in storing their plane in its hangar.
***
“You okay, Michelle?” Betty asked as the spotted skunk was putting earrings on.
The mephit stopped, looking herself in the dressing room mirror. “Yeah, pretty much. In a way, I’m glad Winnie showed up when she did. Lord knows I don’t what I would have done if B’onss wanted to take it any further – or Kara, for that matter.” The reflection gave a lopsided smile. “Made me feel a little like a prostitute, you know?”
“You would’ve thought of something,” Betty said.
“You’re not union here anyway,” Veronica added, earning her a glare from Betty that she returned calmly.
The new stage manager knocked, waited a few seconds, and opened the door slightly. “Michelle? You almost ready?”
“Almost there,” the skunk replied. “Am I on next?”
“Nah,” the new fellow, a native Spontoonie fox, replied. “Got a new comic in from Rain Island, and he’s still doing his set.”
“Gotcha.” The spotted skunk finished putting on her earrings and got up from the makeup table to get her dress on.
***
The comedian, a bear in a loud plaid suit and battered fedora, grinned as most of the crowd applauded his latest joke about President Long. That told him that the majority of his audience were Yankees.
“It’s always great to see so many Americans,” he said when the applause had died down. “I’ve got a friend down in San Francisco, and he calls me up one day when I’m in town. I want to hit a bar and I ask him, ‘Are you free tonight?’ He answers, ‘Sure I am! I’m American.’” That drew an amused chuckle, and the drummer in the band supplied a brief staccato on a snare drum.
The bear gave him a sour look. “Thanks.” The drummer cheekily replied with a single note on a triangle, and a few in the audience laughed at the comedian’s put-out expression.
“We have to remind ourselves,” he said, “that we’re here in the sunny Spontoons. Let’s give them a round of applause for being so hospitable, um?” and he led the applause. When it subsided, he said, “The Spontoonies are very welcoming, and I’ll give you an example. One of the wheels in their police force is a fellow from New Haven – I know, right?” he said as a murmur swept through the room. “Now,” he said, raising an admonitory paw, “he’s not Red Fist – but I’ll bet the Althing’s keeping an eye out in case he does anything revolutionary.” He added a broad, knowing wink as he stressed the last word, causing some laughter.
“And I heard that this guy – good Catholic, you know, from New Haven – got himself hitched over here, so good for him, right? And she’s a cheetah, not a deer.” He winked. “Imagine the conversation at bedtime,” and he switched to a falsetto as he started doing the voices in an imaginary conversation.
“’Darling, let us consummate our love.’
“’Beloved,’” he said in a deeper voice, “’we cannot.’
“’But why?’
“’Because it's Lent.’
He gave it a two-second beat.
“’Well, who'd you lend it to and for how long?’”
The laughter was loud and prolonged, and the bear grinned. Trust a bunch of Yankees to like a good, somewhat naughty joke. When the laughter stopped, he said, “So they decide to wait until Easter and stay in separate rooms until then. Easter morning, there's a hammering on the cheetah's door,” and again he started doing the voices.
“’Oh, darling!’” he said in falsetto. “’I know what you're hammering for!’
“’Yeah, but do you know what I'm hammering WITH?’”
Winnie, seated next to the stage, applauded and laughed along with the rest of the crowd as the comedian acknowledged the crowd. The clouded leopard mix did a double-take as two familiar foxes took seats at her table. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said. “Either of you.”
“We had passes,” Kara said. “Whisky and soda for me,” she said to the waiter, “and an Orca-Cola for him,” and she jerked a thumb at B’onss, who was in his suit but sitting rather uncomfortably. “We need to wash out the taste of durian.”
Being partly Burmese and raised in Southeast Asia, Winnie immediately understood. She shuddered. “So, um, no trouble tonight?”
B’onss said, “Nope. I ain’t startin’ nothing.”
“Me neither,” Kara grumbled.
The drinks arrived as the comedian left the stage to applause and a bouncy tune from the band. The master of ceremonies stepped out, clapping his paws before stepping up to the microphone. “That was Vern LaVern, ladies and gentlemen! Now, we’d like to bring out the featured singer for tonight. She’s from the Sea Bear Republic, so put your paws together for – Michelle!” and the audience applauded as the spotted skunk came out, dropping a slight curtsy to the emcee. She whispered something to the bandleader before walking to the microphone.
“Good evening, everyone,” Michelle said in her warm contralto. “My first song is something special, for someone very special,” and she nodded to the band.
The tune was in foxtrot time, and the mephit swayed slightly to the beat before singing:
“I’m as pleasant as the morning
And refreshing as the rain
Isn't it a pity
That I’m such a scatterbrain?
“When I smile it's so delightful
When I talk it's so insane
Still it's charming chatter, scatterbrain . . . “
Winnie grinned toothily, her tail swishing back and forth as Milo sang the adaptation she’d insisted he sing for her. Her boyfriend could be scatter-brained at times, but she loved him for it.
The other two at the table looked amused as Michelle sang. Kara chuckled at times, while B’onss tried to figure out why the spotted skunk was deliberately making fun of himself.
Still, all three applauded along with the rest of the audience when the song ended. Michell acknowledged the applause and straightened up as the band started playing another song.
A stagepaw had placed a martini glass on the piano, and Michell picked it up, sipped, and began to sing again.
“It was just one of those things
Just one of those crazy flings
One of those bells that now and then rings
Just one of those things
“It was just one of those nights
Just one of those fabulous flights
A trip to the moon on gossamer wings
Just one of those things . . . “
“He sings good,” B’onss remarked into his Orca-Cola.
***
Sunday September 3, 1939:
Rosie and Franklin gently nuzzled and kissed their grandchildren as the fawns’ parents looked on. Reluctantly giving Tommy to Reggie, Franklin said, “It’s been wonderful seeing you all. Rosie and I are sorry that you have to leave.”
Rosie nodded, nuzzling little Mary Rose. “Durn tootin’.” Willow stepped close, stepdaughter and stepmother kissing each other on the cheeks.
“Well, business never ends, does it, what?” Reggie said. “Strange to say, but the closer I get to London, the happier the board is.” The younger whitetail buck shook his head. “Still have trouble fathoming it.” He glanced behind him at the stewardess standing by the door of the seaplane. “I expect they’re waiting for us to get aboard.” He held Tommy one-armed before extending a paw to his father-in-law. “Wonderful to see you all, and I hope we can get back out here next year.”
“I hope so too,” Franklin said, shaking paws with Reggie. He then hugged and kissed Willow while Reggie got a hug from Rosie before the Buckhorns boarded Zephyr for the flight to Hawaii.
A few furs were gathered at the pier as the Staggs walked away, with one remarking to the other, “Been the quietest visit by the Buckhorns ever.”
“Yeah, well,” his companion said, “there’s always next year . . . “
Later that night, before he went to bed, Franklin Stagg looked in on his sleeping children before stepping haltingly into the bedroom he shared with Rosie. He gazed at her as she slept, recalling Sapohatan’s offer.
He heard Reggie say, “I’m thinking that you don’t have to be one of those weather chappies to know which way the wind’s blowing.”
He heard Ranua say, “We could always use an analyst, Inspector.”
The whitetail buck got into bed, and slowly surrendered to sleep.
***
Monday September 4, 1939:
“Hey, K’nutt!” Rosie called out, and as the young tod-fox came out of the kitchen she said, “Package for you.”
“M-M-More g-g-gum?” K’nutt stuttered. “G-G-G-Goody!”
The cheetah smiled and gave him the package, watching as he started to attack the wrapping. “Have you eaten all that gum?”
K’nutt shook his head. Rosie fancied she could hear something rattle. “N-N-No, R-Rosie, I g-g-got – ooh . . . “ He finished opening the brown paper and revealed the package.
The package was in blue and white, with a drawing of an elegantly attired owl in white tie and tails, seated in a rowboat facing a feline femme in a flowing white dress. A full moon shone over them, and the label read Cocomoons in art nouveau lettering.
A letter was on top of the box, and Rosie read it as K’nutt started opening the box. “’Dear Mister Karoksson, we here at F.R. Buckhorn and Sons would like to thank you for the many letters you have sent us in response to our request for suggestions. Please accept this box of FRB Cocomoons as a token of our thanks and appreciation.’” Rosie looked up from the letter as K’nutt succeeded in removing the lid. “Nice.”
Inside, individually wrapped, lay three stacks of four confections. Each was composed of a sweetened coconut patty with a rim and base of rich dark chocolate.
K’nutt unwrapped one, took a bite, and an expression of bliss spread across his features. He ate it slowly, savoring every bite until it was gone. “Th-Th-These are g-g-g-great,” he said.
"Ain'tcha gonna share wit' yer brudder?" B’onss asked, looking over his twin’s shoulder.
"N-n-n-n-n-o!" K’nutt wrapped his arms around the box protectively. "Y-You're s-s-s-still t-t-too b-busy eating y-y-y-your h-h-heart out."
Bo'nsss started to gekker and began chasing K'nutt, his brother clinging to the box for dear life and shouting, “I'm t-t-t-tellin' M-M-MA!"
“Ah, brotherly love,” Vicky said to Rosie, and both femmes started to laugh.
“Yeah,” Rosie said. “Nice to see things are getting back to normal around here.”
end
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST>
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Skunk
Size 93 x 120px
File Size 66.2 kB
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