FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

A lone white bat stood under the tree by the side of the road, wishing to avoid the burning summer sun; it was actually Fall, but here in west coast New Castor, the difference between Summer and Fall was "it might rain." Now with no sun glaring on his phone screen, he could now message his roommate for anything she'd want from the store.

Some booze, some smokes, and some wheat bread for sandwiches; got to buy at least one healthy thing on these shopping trips, right? Message received, he nodded and moved out of the shade and into the sun, his white fur reflecting the sun and hopefully not blinding anyone looking in his direction. JJ's, the corner store, was not much further.

Palegreen City was somewhat busy today, the usual kind of busy that one would come with living here, not overly busy, but your average kind of busy. Towering concrete buildings, many of which were decades old, shiny machinery poking out of them, the present and the past coming together. Ethan's large sensitive things picked up on more and more of the city as he walked. The honking of horns, the chatter of pedestrians, teenagers playing by the sidewalk, workers doing work, junkies doing their own thing. He could even hear a conversation in the apartment on the second floor as he passed by; something about a broken TV. His nose too, that took in the smell of cooking, the stench of garbage workers doing their job, and the body odor of anyone who passed by. Some smelled good, some smelled horrible, but he wasn't going to point out who was who.

He had a word for these kind of situations: Overwhelming.

He was, by his own emission, a timid man. Afraid to leave the house, only doing so as a sort of "confidence building exercises," like today to buy some groceries. Without Brook being the center of attention, he could only stagger on and avoid any eye contact.

Well, to tell the truth, there was one other reason that he left the house and it was right next to his destination.

As he walked on, passing by a sparrow selling some toy robots, his eyes were drawn to the local Player Lodge; a place where one could play electronic casino games; your slot machines, your super expensive robotic dealers, some virtual card games for people who prefer that, or even bet on sports. Ethan had money in his pocket and half a brain to go in there and try a few games, maybe even bet on tonight's boxing match; he didn't even know who was going against who. How many Shells had he spent on this one store alone?

He crossed by the street, passing by a large family of rats, a bespectacled gecko in a undershirt, and a pair of wolves, lovers probably. Right in front of the Player Lodge, his red eyes looking through the window, he watched the various players. One of them, an older looking gazelle, was crying in front of one of the slot machines, practically hugging the machine and murmuring swears and nos under his breath. Ethan shook his head, having seen and experienced this several times. Spending a whole paycheck in one day and walking home empty handed. A feeling that makes you both sad for them and happy that you aren't them.

He continued on his way, the gazelle's predicament allowing him to dodge his temptation to gamble. His destination, JJ's Cornerstore, was right next to the Player Lodge. He could smell the cheap hotdogs and candy from outside. Walking inside, the smell was even stronger, but better yet, the air conditioner was on full blast. Grabbing a 12 pack of canned alcoholic lemonade, a bag of whole wheat sliced bread, and a candy bar for himself. There at the counter was a large hippo, his cybernetic eye blinking as Ethan approached; he wasn't a very talkative man, which was absolutely perfect for the timid bat. His nametag read Carlo.

"Good afternoon. Just this." Ethan said, then pointed at a pack cigarettes behind Carlo, "Also a pack of Clean Slates."

Carlo nodded and took the pack and placed it in front of Ethan. Just like that. One quick exchange and they were done, no conversation needed. It was routine at this point, you could call it driving yourself into a rut, but it was that really a bad thing.

But before he could make his way back home, he ran head first into an obstacle. That obstacle being the broad chest of a man outside, coming into the store. He had a chest like a castle door. Ethan let out a pain groan as he stumbled away, almost dropping his stuff. Looking up, he instantly recognized that he recognized who he ran into.

Darnell. A tiger, standing at roughly 6'4'', dressed in a white shirt that was a bit too tight on him, ripped jeans, and a red hat with some beer brand on it. "Oi!" He said, adjusting his hat, pulling on the strap of the backpack he was carrying. He was glaring, a frown on his face. But the frown turned into a friendly grin, showing his sharp teeth. "Ethan! Been a while!"

Ethan looked up at him, only being shorter by him by a couple of inches, he still felt dwarfed by him. "Hello Darnell." He paused, stepping outside as to not block anyone coming through the door, he and Darnell now stood at the right of the entrance. "How'd you know it was me?"

Darnell chuckled and raised a brow. "How? What do you mean? You're the only albino bat that I know, unless there's more you aren't telling me about. Your fur is so bright that I could spot it all the way from Yisk."

"Well, you got me there." He laughed, actually holding the conversation. He put the 12 pack under his armpit, to make it easier to carry if he was going to be standing here for a while; the other groceries were placed in a plastic bag. "Speaking of which, I guess you being here means your back from Yisk?"

"Yeah, it was a bit tedious, a lot of backpacking, which I loved, but also some annoying business stuff." He patted his huge backpack, which was about the size of Ethan if he curled up and was shaped like a backpack. "What about you? You've been well?"

"I've been fine." He said, wanting to leave, his anxiety mounting. Darnelle wasn't a bad person, he knew that for a fact, there was no bad bone or brain in that body of his. But anxiety was anxiety. But, he continued the conversation until an opening would be found. "What do you do again? For a living that is?"

Darnelle adjusted his hat, smiling proudly, "I'm an entertainer." He looked Ethan in the eyes once more. "Not that kind of entertainer, if that's what you're wondering. This body might look good but it isn't for that." He said with a hearty laugh, patting Ethan on the shoulder. It was then Ethan noticed the bandages on his shoulder. "His hand as well. Did he get hurt somewhere? "Anyways, good to see you again. Say hi to Brook for me. I know she misses me."

Just like that, they parted ways. Sighing in relief, Ethan was happy to be alone once more. If only he wasn't so damn awkward sometimes.

Continuing on his way, passing a few more blocks, the candy bar he got already melted, he made it home. Motel Old College Try. Often shortened to College for sake of brief conversations. It was, from appearances, it was a traditional model. A large staple shaped building consisting of a bunch of rooms, each housing a different patron, overlooking a parking lot. But now it was converted from a place of temporary housing, to one of cheap and permanent housing. There was, of course, a history behind this choice. It all had to do with the Last War, when there was a ban of tourism from other countries and North and South Castor were at each other's throats. It was a long story, but that was the short version of it.

With his groceries in toy, he walked overr to what was formerly a check in desk, now functioning as a place for Mrs. Seibert, the landlord, to do her paper work. She was an old short cat, about as tall as she was wide. Cranky looking, but stern and stoic. If anyone could keep the punks of this place under control, it was her.

"I'm back," he said, waving to her, passing by quickly.

She grunted at him, nodding.

"By the way, can you ask the guys in the room next to ours to take out their trash? I can smell it. Brook doesn't care but I do and she, well, wants me to do it myself.

"I'll look into it, dear," she said, looking up from her sudoku puzzle.

"...And, uh, still haven't talked to Augustus yet?" He asked, hesitantly.

"What about Augustus?"

"Do something about him? I have a feeling he's getting worse by the week and others here are scared he's going to do something drastic."

The cat sighed, leaning back in her chair, "I'll see what I can do. But til then, you'll just have to put up with him. If you ask me, he's all talk, not brave enough to actually fight. But... If he does something violent, I'll see what I can do." She patted the table in front of her. Out of sight, kept in a hidden compartment, was her trusty rifle from the war. "Til then, dear, don't do anything that'll get him to do anything violent, you hear?"

Ethan didn't like the answer, but he also didn't like conflict. He sighed and moved on, as he usually did. "Thanks, Mrs. Seibert."

Up to the second floor and across the balcony, just a few more doors down, this heavy feeling in his chest could be alleviated. That was when he passed by him.

A tall, imposing mastiff, scars carved into his arms, wearing gray camo pants and no shirt, showing his beer gut. A symbol carved into his left pec was that of two closed semicircles connected by the corners; the symbol of the now defunct North Castor military. To make a long story short, a Fascist group, still somehow hanging on today despite their loss in the war.

Don't make eye contact, even as he glared down on him, Ethan kept going. Knowing no matter what he did, Augustus took pride in his helplessness against him.

That was when Ethan finally made it home, taking the sweet smell of his room; the smell of the lemony cleaning wipes they used yesterday, plus an air freshener, to help with Brook's natural body odor. Walking inside, and closing the door, he was finally back in his comfort zone; made even better when she was around. It was a cheap apartment, with just three rooms, one for the TV and sofas, the entertainment center as Brook called it, their tiny bedroom with two beds and their individual dressers, and the bathroom. The entertainment center was just barely big enough for their DVD rack, their fridge, and the miniature kitchen that amounted to a sink and portable oven; Ethan was certain the room was not intended for two people, much less one paranoid and organized person and one, well, Brook. If one was ever scared that they were living in poverty because they lived in a studio apartment, all they needed to see was this place to alleviate their worries.

"Ethan!" Brook said, cheerful as usual, "You're alive!" Brook hopped up from her sofa in front of the TV. A hyena, short, dressed in just a pair of shorts and a faded t-shirt of some band she loved, her hair dyed red in a faux hawk.

"Of course, I'm alive," he said, "Are you really gonna say that everytime I get back from one of these trips?"

"...You bet I will," she said, giving him a surprisingly strong, but still playful, jab to his shoulder. Such a tomboy. "...And you're gonna point out I say that every time you get back." She quickly went back to the sofa, just happy to see her friend come back. The TV wasn't turned on, she was probably on her phone this whole time

Ethan headed over to the fridge and placed the 12 pack inside, next to the deli meat. Also put the melted chocolate bar and the bread right below it. They really had to shop for some actual groceries tomorrow or the day after. He'd have to bring Brook for that one. The hyena quickly grabbed one of the lemonades and cracked it open, snickering with glee as she took a long sip. Ethan refrained, he didn't drink room temperature booze.

"Ah, got you these, you were complaining that you didn't have any yesterday so..." Ethan said, passing the cigarette's over to her in an underhanded toss. She caught it with her free hand, before settling down on her favorite armchair, spilling a bit of booze on her shirt. She was several things. She was a slob, she was brash and loud and loved to rough house, even when she was a toddler she was this exact same way; just without the smoking and drinking. She loved her loud music and her wrestling shows, getting all too excited to watch people beat the lights out of each other in a ring. Darnell even called her "one of the bros." She was a bit of an idiot when it came to anything that wasn't fighting, music, or alcohol. But, lastly, and most importantly of all, she was Ethan's dearest friend and someone he would go on a million trips to JJ's for.

"Thanks, I owe you one!" She said, putting the smokes aside for later.

Ethan headed over to his own armchair, sitting down on it, content. "Anything good on?" He said, picking up the remote.

"Nah, I was just thinking of putting on some boxing DVD or something like that." She said, stretching, "We really gotta get a game console."

"When we get the money, sure." A bit tricky, when he was unemployed. At least Brook's job at the fishery was going well. "Just don't fall asleep on the couch again, or at least close the blinds, people are weird around here."

"Fine," She said in a playful whiny voice.

She flipped through the channels: Local news, cartoons, fashion reports, and finally settled on a movie. A foreign film from Xiva. Bunch of guys in rubber suits beating up giant rubber monsters? Something that Ethan and Brook could get into.

The two friends spent the afternoon, lounging around and wasting their day away. It was how they always spent their days. A life seen as stale and unexciting. Lacking in substance or adventure. But, for their own reasons, the two called it just short of paradise.