Ah, RD, ex-employer, good friend...little did he know what he unleashed that day he published "The Fall of Chez Grover"
You see, the version of "Chez Grover" published here had seen a bit of editing...the original closing scene featured not Squire Rivero, but a certain green nincompoop, whom shall remain nameless, cough, cough...
But when it comes to seeking vengeance, I am simply lousy at it. Punishment, making people suffer...it's just not me!
That's why I have a wife, heh heh heh...
By-the-by, if you've been reading there reprints, you should have no trouble guessing the identity of RD's bedmate :)
Chez Retaliation
::Fianna checked his e-mail after two days’ absence, eager to see what his friends had been up to. The first entry in the digest was a tale by his good buddy RD Rivero, titled “The Fall of Chez Grover”. He read through the story. First he snickered. Then he tilted his head in that quizzical manner shared by all canines. Then his eyebrows arched in shock. After another moment, he composed a reply.::
Cute story! I remember the Chez Grover bit from
::The caninoid closed his laptop, stretched and yawned and made a mental note to send the message out in the morning. Exhausted, he kissed his lovely wife and went to bed.::
::The small white poodle watched her beloved chewtoy climb onto the bunk. Once the camper was resonating with his snores, she hopped to the table, nosed open the laptop and read the story and reply.::
::First she snickered. Then her head tilted to the side quizzically. Then she arched her eyebrows in shock::
::Then she growled, a low menacing sound. Pressing the keys with her forefeet, she quickly reviewed the entire “Chicken Nugget” incident. She growled again.::
::Then she broke into a petite pretty smile as inspiration struck, and she began to type::
BAD BOYS! Wacha gon, whatcha gon na doo...
The camera panned around the staffroom, crossing over several figures attired in black jumpsuits and silver helmets. It bounced to a stop on a tall, stern-voiced woman, standing behind a podium at the head of the room. Blonde hair dangled from the back of her helm, her red visor glittering in the light from the overhead flourescent tubes.
“Listen up, people! There aren’t going to be any mistakes this time. We know the suspects, we know where they are, and we are going to bring them in, dead or alive!”
The camera showed a low angle shot of the same female, taken from the rumble seat of a Control Electrocharger. The roar of the vehicle’s powerful engine intruded on the audio signal, muffling the voice of the driver.
“I’ve got some experience with these two. We’ve brought them in on every concievable charge, from Thunderkitten porn to Tygra murder to Silky Fruit distribution, and they always weasle their way through the system. That Cochran, he’s a hell of a lawyer, but getting scum like this turned loose, well, maybe he’s the one who should be doing to time.”
The camera jostled wildly as the operator ran towards the front of a log
cabin in the
"CONTROL! SEARCH WARRANT! EVERYBODY ON THE GROUND NOW!!!"
The officers stormed through the house while the camera flickered from scene to scene, trying to cover the action. The it pursued one group of officers to the upstairs loft.
Another door was kicked down, and in the bed a young, prematurely balding man kicked off his blanket and reached for a pad and pen on the nightstand beside him. Before he could reach it, the Control officers were on him, tackling him to the floor.
Across the room, a female sprang from the bed as well, and was similiarly subdued, screeching Luna-style as she was dragged to her feet and cuffed.
Both subjects were hauled in front of the camera. They were butt-naked, and blurry patches appeared in the scene to protect innocent eyes. Curiously, the male's blurry patch seemed remarkable small and underdeveloped.
The female continued to shriek and thrash, giving the officers restraining her no respite. As the blonde officer came into the room she screamed "BITCH!", yanked her hand loose and swung at the cop.
Instantly the law woman's hand shot up, snagging the thrown punch in a steely grasp. The female suspect began to pull mightily, trying to wrest her fist away.
"You think you can take me? That's what you said, wasn't it? That you knew for a fact you could kick my ass?" the officer said.
"You know it bitch!"
"You think you could kick my ass?"
"YEAH!"
"My ass?"
"HELL YEAH!"
The cop released the woman's fist. Under the tremendous strain she'd exerted trying to pull it free, the woman's hand snapped upward, striking herself dead-center of the face with a meaty "thok".
The woman's eyes crossed, her knees went to water, forcing the officers to carry her between themselves.
"Pathetic," the law woman said. "They'll probably drop charges on her for a section double-oh eighty, too pitiful to prosecute."
She then turned to the man. His fury was obvious. "You'll never get away with this! This is stalking, goddammit! My lawyer will have me back out killing Thundercats within the hour, and I'll have your badge!"
"Not this time, lover. This is strictly business," she said. She walked up to him, smiled sweetly and said, "You finally screwed up. Sure, they go light on your sort of depravity for the most part, but this time you crossed the wrong crime with the wrong jurisdiction."
The officer held up a picture from "The Fall of Chez Grover", featuring a large caninoid in a rather uncharacteristic condition.
"Big mistake putting caninoids in lewd situations, particularly this caninoid, in Judge Poodle's town."
The man blanched. "You...you mean THAT poodle?"
"That's right. They've got a cell all picked out for you at the William J. Clinton Memorial Institute for Sexual Deviants. I hope you like your room mates, because I'm sure they're going to like you."
So saying, she dropped something over the man's neck. He looked down at the heavy object resting on his chest. It was Soap on a Rope.
"Take him away boys," the cop said, and they dragged the author away even as his desparate cries for mercy echoed into the night. "Don't complain!" she yelled as they all trooped out of the cabin. "It'll give you a whole new level of realism when you do those Tygra-Panthro scenes!"
As the car drove away, the officer turned to the camera. "Well, is that good enough for broadcast?"
Tygra lowered the camera and grinned. "It's exactly what I was looking for."
The screen went blank. A woman's voice said, "Seven Fifty-Two, I got 'im at gunpoint..." as regae music began to play.
::The poodle pressed the send button, then put her dainty paws on the lid of the laptop and pushed it shut with a click. The she hopped into the bunk next to the snoring green form slumbering there already.::
::She turned twice around and settled down, looking at the computer. She licked her chops, yawned.
::"Fianna is MY chew toy," she said as she rested her head on her paws. "Get that straight, or next time I won't be so easy-going about it."::
::Then she closed her eyes and went to sleep.::
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