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Moonlight and Mayhem
A Very Odd Romance
© 2010 by Walter Reimer
Thumbnail art by
cherushi and 
amonomega
Eight
The guide hissed for quiet as they neared a trail that cut across a hill a short distance from the coast road. Below them they could see the lights of the sporting houses on the beach. Over the sounds of the surf and the seaward breeze they could hear screams coming from one of the bordellos.
“That’s probably Mad Mac,” the canine guide said. “He only comes down the hill once a month – but that’s plenty.” He pointed to a huddled shadow in the road. It was difficult to discern species, but it was obviously dead. “Looks like someone wanted to argue with him.”
“Why have we stopped?” Sam whispered.
“I thought I heard someone coming up the trail,” the shiba inu replied. They waited for a short while, until they were satisfied that they were not going to cross paths with anyone, then their guide led them down the knoll to the road.
They recovered the boat and Max shoved Morpion into the craft after Sam and the canine pushed it into the surf. “Moon’s about to set, so our timing’s good,” the canine said.
“What if someone spots us?” Sam asked.
“I can always say I was smuggling something.”
“To a submarine?”
“Sure,” the canine replied. “It’s a perfect spot, so others use the Cove for drops or pickups.”
“I like it,” Max said brightly. Sam took over watching Morpion as Max and the canine started rowing. After they cleared the surf line Max started to sing:
“I went to sea with a drunken sailor
Six long months in a leaky whaler
Put him in the hold and I made him bail her
Ear-ly in the morning.”
“Max.”
“Yeah, Sam?”
“Please don’t sing Yiff You, I’m Drunk again.”
“Why not, Sam? It’s a great tune.”
“Yes, but have you ever listened to the lyrics? The guy singing it’s very rude to the woman. Hardly egalitarian.”
Max pondered this as he kept on rowing. “I suppose you’re right, Sam, but look at it this way – the singer doesn’t necessarily have to be a guy, you know. This is Rain Island.”
“Hmm. Yes, it could be two girls singing it, at that. Good job, Max.”
“Really, Sam?”
“Yes. Now you have me thinking of marrying some nice young girl and settling down,” she said with a chuckle as the fox groaned.
“Now, Sam, that was not nice.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. You’d be utterly wasted on anyone but me.”
“And how do I know that?”
“Oh, so then you have – “
“No, never have.”
“There goes my fantasies for the night,” the shiba inu said, and all three laughed.
“Seriously, Sam, you never?”
“Nope. Never met a femme who attracted me that way.”
“Well, you haven’t had any boyfriends before me, have you?”
“Of course I have, Max, and you know it. Remember Jasper Morning Star?”
“Oh. Yeah, I do. You think he’s doing all right?”
“After you broke his collarbone? Maybe.”
“I had a perfectly good reason, Sam.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. First, he was making eyes at you.”
“I’m flattered. I think. And the second reason?”
“He changed his last name. Very sneaky.”
“Look, just because he was born Morgenstern – “
“See what I mean?”
“But Max, he felt that it made him feel more like a Rain Islander.”
Max snorted, and started humming as the craft breasted the surf again and entered Smuggler’s Cove. They then rowed out to where they guessed the center of the body of water was located, and shipped the oars. The trio and their unwilling guest settled down to wait.
A brief swirl of water, and a periscope emerged a few dozen yards away. It went under again and Sam remarked, “I expect we’ll have company soon.”
“Good.” Max stood up in the boat, swaying and brush whisking back and forth as he maintained his balance, and opened his pants.
“Max!”
“Sam?”
“What on Earth are you doing?”
“All this water, Sam. You know how it is.” The periscope came up alongside again and swung around in a circle. It paused, and swung back fast as Max started to attend to nature’s call.
“Max!”
“Sam?”
“That was totally uncalled for.”
“It’s what they get for being a bunch of Peeping Toms, Sam,” Max said as he finished and fastened his trousers, while the periscope quickly went under again.
They rowed a short distance away as the sub surfaced, and hatches were thrown open with loud metallic clangs as furs swarmed out on deck, brandishing rifles. “Okay,” a voice came from the top of the conning tower, “who’s the wise guy?”
Sam replied, “I don’t know whether you’d call him wise, but he’s got a great sense of timing. Permission to come aboard?”
“That you, Sam?” came another voice, that of the boat’s commander.
“Yeah, George, it’s me.”
“You get Morpion?”
“Of course.”
“You bring that bushy-tailed fool with you?”
“Who do you think spooked whoever you had on the periscope?” Max called out.
“I might’ve known. Okay, let’s get you aboard,” and as the tod-fox and the badgeress clambered aboard several small boxes were passed to the shiba inu, who then started rowing away to the north.
Max slid down the ladder into the forward torpedo room and inhaled deeply. “Ah! The smells of diesel fuel and body odor – I love submarines!” He turned and helped as two ratings lowered Morpion into the compartment, the feline trying ineffectually to kick the fox. “Easy there, Louie, you keep that up and you’ll ride all the way home in one of the tubes,” and the feline keened around his gag as Max showed him the brass cover of one tube. “Where should I put him, George?”
“Hmm,” the sub’s commander, a lean Malinois, mused. “If it’s empty, Max, shove him into the aft lazaretto. This tub’s too small to have a brig. The good thing is we’re only a couple days away from Blefuscu.” He grinned as Sam and the last of his crew came below and closed the hatch behind him. “If you two are finished with exploring the delights of Krupmark Island, let’s get out of here.” He hit the intercom switch on the bulkhead near him. “Bridge.”
“Bridge here. That you, George?”
“Yep, Jenny. If everyone’s back aboard, rig the boat for dive and start plotting a way out of here.”
Max stepped out of the way as the crew went about their tasks, and he grinned up at Sam as the badgeress stood beside him. “Stop ogling my cleavage, Max.”
“I can’t help it, Sam.”
“Uh huh.” There was a pause, then Max looked somewhat uncomfortable and sprinted for the nearest head.
The bogberries were having their secondary effect.
***
21JUL351530 RINSHQ SEATHL TO RINSB BLEFUSCU MESSAGE STARTS COMMANDER RAIN SKY AND LT VREELAND ESCORT PRISONER TO SEATHL STOP FASTEST AVAILABLE TRANSPORTATION STOP WELL DONE STOP YOU WILL BE MET BY POLICE AT SEATHL STOP FOR MORPION NOT MAX STOP PRZYBYLSKI SENDS
***
July 22, 1935:
“The message said ‘Fastest available transportation,’ Sam.”
“I know, Max. But it still wouldn’t work.”
The fox waved aside her objections. “Nonsense, Sam. I have scientific proof that it works.”
“What proof?”
“Greenwood Lakes, New York, USA, and cross-Channel between England and France.”
“Hmm. That’s as may be, Max, but where would we find a rocket big enough to stuff Morpion in and then shoot him at Rain Island?”
“Well, we could build one – “ He grinned as the seaplane touched down in one branch of the Seathlfjord and headed for the Naval Syndicate base. The water was fairly smooth, so the plane had no difficulty taxiing to the seaplane slips.
“And even if we built one, Max, how would he land safely?”
“Hadn’t thought about that, Sam. Say! Maybe we could aim it so it lands in the water!”
“You’ll scare the fish, Max.”
“You have a point, Sam my dear.” The plane was tied up and Louie was prodded out of his seat. The feline was wearing a dark blue jumpsuit, but was shackled and sporting a pair of pawcuffs. He wasn’t gagged any longer, but had kept his mouth mostly shut since the plane took off earlier in the day.
Now he said, “You will never get away with this. I have friends.”
“Did you hear that, Sam?” Max asked. “Louie’s got friends.”
“Must be nice to be loved, Max.”
“Or at least wanted. Which reminds me, Louie my boy, you are most definitely wanted.” He pointed at the slip’s concrete apron, where a trio of furs in blue police uniforms stood waiting. By the look of them – two bears and a musk ox – they were expecting trouble.
Whether with the feline or with Max, it was difficult to tell at first glance.
“Hi, fellows!” Max said as he opened the passenger cabin door. “I think we have a package for you.”
The musk ox, with sergeant stripes showing on his uniform sleeves, grunted and took a warrant and a photograph from his pocket. “We got a warrant for one Louis Morpion.”
“Yep! And here he is!” and the fox hauled the reluctant feline out of the plane, almost throwing him to the concrete before the two bears could catch him. They stood Morpion up on his feet, and the French feline spat at Max.
“Little bastard,” he hissed in English. “I won’t forget this.”
Max grinned. “Have fun in prison, Louie my boy. You’ll make someone a fine wife.” He blew a kiss at him as the police hustled the feline to a waiting police van. The dark green Fjord roared off in a cloud of dust, and Sam dumped a sea bag at Max’s feet.
“Here’s your luggage, Max.”
“Thank you, my sweet badgeress.” The fox scooped up his belongings and grinned up at the taller femme. “Care to have lunch with me?”
“Where?”
“I know this great place up on Roberts Street.”
“Is that the Italian place six blocks from Haywood Square?”
“You know it, then.”
“Yes. Never been in it, but it sounds good. I’ll pay this time, Max.”
“Okay,” the fox said breezily. “Stop at the base first and change?”
“You’ll do anything to see me in my fur, won’t you, Max?”
“Of course, Sam!”
<NEXT>
<FIRST>
<PREVIOUS>
A Very Odd Romance
© 2010 by Walter Reimer
Thumbnail art by
cherushi and 
amonomegaEight
The guide hissed for quiet as they neared a trail that cut across a hill a short distance from the coast road. Below them they could see the lights of the sporting houses on the beach. Over the sounds of the surf and the seaward breeze they could hear screams coming from one of the bordellos.
“That’s probably Mad Mac,” the canine guide said. “He only comes down the hill once a month – but that’s plenty.” He pointed to a huddled shadow in the road. It was difficult to discern species, but it was obviously dead. “Looks like someone wanted to argue with him.”
“Why have we stopped?” Sam whispered.
“I thought I heard someone coming up the trail,” the shiba inu replied. They waited for a short while, until they were satisfied that they were not going to cross paths with anyone, then their guide led them down the knoll to the road.
They recovered the boat and Max shoved Morpion into the craft after Sam and the canine pushed it into the surf. “Moon’s about to set, so our timing’s good,” the canine said.
“What if someone spots us?” Sam asked.
“I can always say I was smuggling something.”
“To a submarine?”
“Sure,” the canine replied. “It’s a perfect spot, so others use the Cove for drops or pickups.”
“I like it,” Max said brightly. Sam took over watching Morpion as Max and the canine started rowing. After they cleared the surf line Max started to sing:
“I went to sea with a drunken sailor
Six long months in a leaky whaler
Put him in the hold and I made him bail her
Ear-ly in the morning.”
“Max.”
“Yeah, Sam?”
“Please don’t sing Yiff You, I’m Drunk again.”
“Why not, Sam? It’s a great tune.”
“Yes, but have you ever listened to the lyrics? The guy singing it’s very rude to the woman. Hardly egalitarian.”
Max pondered this as he kept on rowing. “I suppose you’re right, Sam, but look at it this way – the singer doesn’t necessarily have to be a guy, you know. This is Rain Island.”
“Hmm. Yes, it could be two girls singing it, at that. Good job, Max.”
“Really, Sam?”
“Yes. Now you have me thinking of marrying some nice young girl and settling down,” she said with a chuckle as the fox groaned.
“Now, Sam, that was not nice.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. You’d be utterly wasted on anyone but me.”
“And how do I know that?”
“Oh, so then you have – “
“No, never have.”
“There goes my fantasies for the night,” the shiba inu said, and all three laughed.
“Seriously, Sam, you never?”
“Nope. Never met a femme who attracted me that way.”
“Well, you haven’t had any boyfriends before me, have you?”
“Of course I have, Max, and you know it. Remember Jasper Morning Star?”
“Oh. Yeah, I do. You think he’s doing all right?”
“After you broke his collarbone? Maybe.”
“I had a perfectly good reason, Sam.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. First, he was making eyes at you.”
“I’m flattered. I think. And the second reason?”
“He changed his last name. Very sneaky.”
“Look, just because he was born Morgenstern – “
“See what I mean?”
“But Max, he felt that it made him feel more like a Rain Islander.”
Max snorted, and started humming as the craft breasted the surf again and entered Smuggler’s Cove. They then rowed out to where they guessed the center of the body of water was located, and shipped the oars. The trio and their unwilling guest settled down to wait.
A brief swirl of water, and a periscope emerged a few dozen yards away. It went under again and Sam remarked, “I expect we’ll have company soon.”
“Good.” Max stood up in the boat, swaying and brush whisking back and forth as he maintained his balance, and opened his pants.
“Max!”
“Sam?”
“What on Earth are you doing?”
“All this water, Sam. You know how it is.” The periscope came up alongside again and swung around in a circle. It paused, and swung back fast as Max started to attend to nature’s call.
“Max!”
“Sam?”
“That was totally uncalled for.”
“It’s what they get for being a bunch of Peeping Toms, Sam,” Max said as he finished and fastened his trousers, while the periscope quickly went under again.
They rowed a short distance away as the sub surfaced, and hatches were thrown open with loud metallic clangs as furs swarmed out on deck, brandishing rifles. “Okay,” a voice came from the top of the conning tower, “who’s the wise guy?”
Sam replied, “I don’t know whether you’d call him wise, but he’s got a great sense of timing. Permission to come aboard?”
“That you, Sam?” came another voice, that of the boat’s commander.
“Yeah, George, it’s me.”
“You get Morpion?”
“Of course.”
“You bring that bushy-tailed fool with you?”
“Who do you think spooked whoever you had on the periscope?” Max called out.
“I might’ve known. Okay, let’s get you aboard,” and as the tod-fox and the badgeress clambered aboard several small boxes were passed to the shiba inu, who then started rowing away to the north.
Max slid down the ladder into the forward torpedo room and inhaled deeply. “Ah! The smells of diesel fuel and body odor – I love submarines!” He turned and helped as two ratings lowered Morpion into the compartment, the feline trying ineffectually to kick the fox. “Easy there, Louie, you keep that up and you’ll ride all the way home in one of the tubes,” and the feline keened around his gag as Max showed him the brass cover of one tube. “Where should I put him, George?”
“Hmm,” the sub’s commander, a lean Malinois, mused. “If it’s empty, Max, shove him into the aft lazaretto. This tub’s too small to have a brig. The good thing is we’re only a couple days away from Blefuscu.” He grinned as Sam and the last of his crew came below and closed the hatch behind him. “If you two are finished with exploring the delights of Krupmark Island, let’s get out of here.” He hit the intercom switch on the bulkhead near him. “Bridge.”
“Bridge here. That you, George?”
“Yep, Jenny. If everyone’s back aboard, rig the boat for dive and start plotting a way out of here.”
Max stepped out of the way as the crew went about their tasks, and he grinned up at Sam as the badgeress stood beside him. “Stop ogling my cleavage, Max.”
“I can’t help it, Sam.”
“Uh huh.” There was a pause, then Max looked somewhat uncomfortable and sprinted for the nearest head.
The bogberries were having their secondary effect.
***
21JUL351530 RINSHQ SEATHL TO RINSB BLEFUSCU MESSAGE STARTS COMMANDER RAIN SKY AND LT VREELAND ESCORT PRISONER TO SEATHL STOP FASTEST AVAILABLE TRANSPORTATION STOP WELL DONE STOP YOU WILL BE MET BY POLICE AT SEATHL STOP FOR MORPION NOT MAX STOP PRZYBYLSKI SENDS
***
July 22, 1935:
“The message said ‘Fastest available transportation,’ Sam.”
“I know, Max. But it still wouldn’t work.”
The fox waved aside her objections. “Nonsense, Sam. I have scientific proof that it works.”
“What proof?”
“Greenwood Lakes, New York, USA, and cross-Channel between England and France.”
“Hmm. That’s as may be, Max, but where would we find a rocket big enough to stuff Morpion in and then shoot him at Rain Island?”
“Well, we could build one – “ He grinned as the seaplane touched down in one branch of the Seathlfjord and headed for the Naval Syndicate base. The water was fairly smooth, so the plane had no difficulty taxiing to the seaplane slips.
“And even if we built one, Max, how would he land safely?”
“Hadn’t thought about that, Sam. Say! Maybe we could aim it so it lands in the water!”
“You’ll scare the fish, Max.”
“You have a point, Sam my dear.” The plane was tied up and Louie was prodded out of his seat. The feline was wearing a dark blue jumpsuit, but was shackled and sporting a pair of pawcuffs. He wasn’t gagged any longer, but had kept his mouth mostly shut since the plane took off earlier in the day.
Now he said, “You will never get away with this. I have friends.”
“Did you hear that, Sam?” Max asked. “Louie’s got friends.”
“Must be nice to be loved, Max.”
“Or at least wanted. Which reminds me, Louie my boy, you are most definitely wanted.” He pointed at the slip’s concrete apron, where a trio of furs in blue police uniforms stood waiting. By the look of them – two bears and a musk ox – they were expecting trouble.
Whether with the feline or with Max, it was difficult to tell at first glance.
“Hi, fellows!” Max said as he opened the passenger cabin door. “I think we have a package for you.”
The musk ox, with sergeant stripes showing on his uniform sleeves, grunted and took a warrant and a photograph from his pocket. “We got a warrant for one Louis Morpion.”
“Yep! And here he is!” and the fox hauled the reluctant feline out of the plane, almost throwing him to the concrete before the two bears could catch him. They stood Morpion up on his feet, and the French feline spat at Max.
“Little bastard,” he hissed in English. “I won’t forget this.”
Max grinned. “Have fun in prison, Louie my boy. You’ll make someone a fine wife.” He blew a kiss at him as the police hustled the feline to a waiting police van. The dark green Fjord roared off in a cloud of dust, and Sam dumped a sea bag at Max’s feet.
“Here’s your luggage, Max.”
“Thank you, my sweet badgeress.” The fox scooped up his belongings and grinned up at the taller femme. “Care to have lunch with me?”
“Where?”
“I know this great place up on Roberts Street.”
“Is that the Italian place six blocks from Haywood Square?”
“You know it, then.”
“Yes. Never been in it, but it sounds good. I’ll pay this time, Max.”
“Okay,” the fox said breezily. “Stop at the base first and change?”
“You’ll do anything to see me in my fur, won’t you, Max?”
“Of course, Sam!”
<NEXT>
<FIRST>
<PREVIOUS>
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Badger
Size 72 x 120px
File Size 61.6 kB
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