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“Next rounds on me, yall!”

Scraps, the 26 year old possum exclaimed before standing up to get the bartender’s attention.

“‘Scuse me, bartender!”

The bartender, who was a younger looking female Boer goat, glanced up from taking another patron’s food order to let the overzealous possum know that she in fact heard him.

“In a sec, Sammy!” the female goat bleated out before continuing with ringing up the customer’s order and giving the cook the ticket.

“Hmm... She knows your name, like your actual name, Scraps. You two go back a long ways or …?”

Luke, an early 30s bloodhound lab mix who Scraps befriended through an online forum, and who was also one of the possum’s 3 person party, the other being Scraps’ older hyena sister Dixie, at the bar tonight.

“Uhhh, who? The bartender girl? Yeah sure, I don’t know, we were probably in the same kindergarten class or something…”

Scraps mumbled out, not wanting to admit that he couldn’t remember how he knew the goat girl.

All the sudden, the goat girl appears from out of nowhere behind the bar, directly at the spot that Scraps was facing away from at the moment, which startles the suddenly timid possum.

“Your uncle was my grandfather, Rudy’s, favorite customer. He basically considered Slayton one of his own kin. Hell, he was the one that took care of Slayton the night he lost his eye…”

The goat said in a disappointed tone, narrowing her eyes at the now ashamed possum. Her glare being replaced by a cheerful greeting as she turned to Dixie.

“Heya, Dixie!”

“Hey, Rebecca, how you been?”

“Oh, you know, just dandy. Who’s your friend here?”

Rebecca turns to Luke, eyeing up and down the lanky canine’s frame.

“This tall glass of water, right here? This is Jean Luc, or Luke as he prefers, he’s visiting from outta town. He came all the way to our little slice of heaven from Utah to meet new people and try some of the ‘local cuisine’ you could say…”

The yeen said as she wrapped her arm around the shy canine and brought him close. As if to show him off to her friend.

“Hey there, Luke. I’m Rebecca…or Becca if you prefer.”

The goat said in a calm and relaxing tone as she stuck out her hand for the canine to shake.

Luke brought his hand to hers and gave the goat a proper handshake. The canine’s nervousness was very apparent through the anxious look on his face as he began to unintentionally re introduce himself to Rebecca.

“H-Hi, Im Luke…. Nice to meet you ‘Orbecca’….. d’oh! I mean…”

Rebecca giggles, thinking the canine’s vocal slip up was a joke.

“Hehehe, you’re funny…..”

Luke decides to play along with the impromptu ruse and chuckle a bit with the goat.

“Hehe, thanks…”

Before Luke can get lost in the caprine’s mesmerizing hazel eyes, Rebecca asks the hound a question took him aback, a question he truly did not know the answer too…

“So what can I get you to drink?”

“Huh? Uh? I'm sorry, come again?”

Rebecca smiled, giggling slightly as she repeated the question whilst scribbling something onto her notepad

“Too drink, handsome! What would you like to drink?”

“Uh I-I um-”

Dixie steps in to save the hound an awkward first impression, especially with such a lovely gal like Rebecca.

“Rebecca..!”

Rebecca turns to the yeen, notepad still in hand.

“Hmm?”

“Yeah, just go ahead and get us two of your famous margaritas, and two shots of your best mezcal, dressed please….”

“Uh what about Scraps, Dixie?”

Luke squeaks in after Dixie seemingly finished the order without getting the possum anything

“Oh Right! And that’ll be on *ahem* “Samuel’s Tab, my good madam.”

Dixie says in a not so convincing posh English accent

Both girls begin to laugh.

Probably some kind of inside joke from their youth that would take a whole to explain the context of, Luke thought to himself.

Besides, the canine had other pressing matters to deal with, like where Scraps went. Luke began scanning the entirety of the honky-tonk bar, from the pool tables which only one seemed to be in use by a trio of guys who also look like they would fit in as extras in a movie about leather jacket wearing street toughs who synchronize dance to express their feelings a woman that tickles their fancy.”

Luke then averted his gaze to the sparsely populated dance-floor where two elderly couples, a coyote husband and wife and a male fox and female rabbit, slow danced to the Batsy Cline song, “Squawkin’ after Midnight” Both couples were caught in a lovers embrace, blissfully unaware of anything outside of each others respective company.

Continuing with his ocular pat down of the interior of the bar, Luke glanced at the restrooms only to notice a wide eyed squirrel exiting the boys restroom, constantly sniffling and rubbing at his nostrils as he made his way back to his table midst the scattered tables near the dance floor. Luke then spotted his buddy among the group of tables, who appeared to be ‘spitting game’ to a not so interested amber haired mare, dressed in the typical “cowgirl” duds and who looked to be about the same age as Scraps, if not a year or two younger.

As soon as Luke spots his buddy, he hops off the barstool to rendezvous with his pal when all of a sudden something stops him in his tracks. From behind the unsuspecting possum, a large, bulky bovine male, who’s horns appeared as wide as he was tall and were adorned with a dark leather tan cowboy hat which complemented the rest of the his ranch hand attire quite well. The bull and his two friends: a donkey who’s overbite seemed like it never could fit inside his mouth and a pudgy, pink boar whose who’s stink could be smelled almost before making his appearance, the group of cowpokes made their way to the table to confront the unaware possum.

The bull catches the possum by surprise as well as by the neck, raising the possum half a foot off the ground to meet eye to eye with the lover boy.

“Whatchu doin’ talkin’ my woman, trash cat?”

The bull bellows out in a low growl to the possum, who is trying his hardest to pry the muscular hand from his windpipe as he hopelessly dangles in the air.

Luke in a panic turns to the hyena, still chatting with her bartender friend, and lets out a shaky

“D-Dixie? We got a problem…”

Dixie turn to see the bloodhound pointing toward the possum and the dire situation he found himself in

“Oh shit…..”

Dixie says to herself as she hops off the barstool in a rush, and makes her way to the far side of the establishment, weaving through the scattered tables to her brother and the group of cowboys he has pissed off, Luke following in behind her after she had sped past him.

“HEY! LET HIM GO!!” Dixie yells to the bovine, who towers over the yeen by a good foot and a half.

The bull turns to the hyena, narrowing his eyes at her, not letting up on the gasping possum’s throat.

“Or what? Ha ha ha…..”

The bull lets out in a hearty chuckle at Dixie, whose fists are clenched in rage.

“Or…. THIS….”

Dixie responses by cocking her right arm back and delivering a swift and power-packing uppercut directly to the crotch of the bull. The hyena’s attack hit caught both intended targets, delivering a sudden shot of agonizing pain to the bovine’s large, cantaloupe sized balls, which had presented themselves quite well in the bull’s snug fitting blue jeans. The bull releases Scraps in order to clutch his trouser melons with both hands.

The possum lands not so gracefully on a near by table, flat on his back, then onto the floor, gasping for the air he was denied for those precious seconds.

The bull falls to his knees, wincing in agony at the pain in his groin. He is now looking up at hyena female, with an angry snarl forming on his face and a voice a few octaves higher than before the bovine begins to try to stand on his feet again while grumbling obscenities to the hyena

“You psycho bitch…. You’ll regret that when I get my hands on…”

As the bull begins to get back up on his feet, Dixie takes a stance and gets ready.

Just as the bull is beginning to get his second foot underneath him and get steady on both of his now shaky legs, Dixie executes a perfect side kick, sending her foot into the lower abdomen of the bull which in turn launches said bovine flying on top of a near by table which promptly collapses under the weight of the stunned bull.

About this time a small crowd had gather round the group made up of the fellers playing pool to some other patrons from the far side of the bar that the trio originally started their night at. The crowd all cheering indiscriminately at first but Dixie had heard her name a couple times within the cheers. This brought her back to her short lived pit-fighting days for a split second just before one of the bull’s cronies, the bucktoothed donkey to be exact who now brandished a switchblade knife as well as a desire for yeen blood, on his friend’s behalf

“I’ll slice you up something fierce, bitch!”

The donkey yodeled in a deep southern drawl as he charged at the unsuspecting yeen, knife at the ready. She to the donkey’s surprise, evaded the attack with ease only having to step to the side and sticking her foot out into the path of the donkey. Whilst avoiding the wide slash of the donkey’s knife, her foot tripped the unsuspecting jackass and send him tumbling into a set of chairs and table resulting in a tangled heap of furniture, held together by the lanky donkey’s frame.

While watching the donkey tumble into the bar room furniture a gunshot rang out from behind the yeen. Dixie turned around to see the remaining cowpoke, the short and fat male pig, bring a small pocket revolver from pointing at the ceiling to aiming right at the unarmed yeen, which she responded by raising her hands above her head.

The pig began to chuckle, realizing he now had the upper hand in this bar fight.

“Oh ho ho, not so tough now, are ya?!”

The pig began slowly closing the 20 foot distance between the two, gun still pointed at Dixie, all the while laughing and snorting at the situation.

“Yeah, Yeah keep them paws where I can see ‘em, jungle mutt.”

Dixie, kept her complexion cool and her mouth shut, waiting for an opening to gain the upper hand in the situation. As the pig reached the halfway mark between Dixie and where he had fired the first shot into the ceiling Dixie noticed something peculiar behind the pig. It was Luke with a bottle of liquor in his hand raised above his head, quickly approaching the pig with an uncharacteristic look of anger in his eyes. Just as the pig was beginning to say something, Luke swung the bottle with such force the bottle shattered the instant it hit the right side of the boar’s head, spraying Dixie with a shower of glass fragments, blood and whiskey.

The pig dropped his revolver and brought both hands to the now profusely bleeding wound on the side of his head.

“YEEEAAAOOWWWW! GAD DAMMNIT!!”

The pig hollered out in pain.

Much to Luke’s surprise, the hit did not knock the pig unconscious, like he had seen done in many movies he had watched in the past. As the pig turn around to confront his inexperienced assailant, Dixie took the opportunity and lunged at the pig, wrapping her arm around the fat neck of the boar in a choke-hold and bringing the both of them to the ground. Dixie squeezed the windpipe of the pig who gave only a few moments of resistance, cursing and squealing, just before going limp and passing out in the yeen’s arms.

Dixie released her arms from the pig’s neck and let his fat bulbous body roll limply off of her. She lied on the floor for a few long moments taking in a few exasperated breathes when a sheepish looking canine entered her sight with an arm extended toward her, offering assistance from up off the grimy bar floor.

“D-Dixie..? Are you okay?”

It was Luke.

Dixie took Luke’s hand and picked herself up off the floor.

“Y-Yeah… Im fine…… Thank you!”

Dixie brought the canine close to her into a warm affectionate hug, nearly squeezing the life out him.

Luke reciprocated and hugged the yeen right back, not matching the raw strength as her but embracing her in his arms enough to show the affection is mutual from him.

“Hehe…. Don’t mention it…”

The romantic moment was cut short however by a furious donkey, who had freed himself of the mess of chairs and tables he tumbled into earlier in the fight.

“I AIN’T THROUGH WITH YOU YET, BUTCHSKANK!”

The donkey yelled out, emphasizing his rage by pointing his switchblade toward Dixie, who showed only a sliver of concern toward the enraged donkey.

While the donkey let his anger be known to Dixie and Luke, a sneaky opossum had made his move behind the donkey during Dixie’s kerfuffle with the cowpokes.

Scraps, who had been suspiciously absent throughout the entire fight, finally makes his appearance unbeknownst to the enraged donkey and with one quick yank downward of donkey trousers. The quiet, intense atmosphere of the bar and the patrons who watched the six combatants in a silent awe suddenly erupted into a roaring sea of laughter as they witnessed the depantsing of the donkey before them.

Between the now bare thighs of the donkey, sat an inoffensive, ebony colored, flaccid member measuring no more than two and a half inches, with the shared girth as a roll of nickels which rested in front of a comparably large, gray colored sack that matched the rest of his fur which housed pair of plump, apple sized gonads.

“No wonder they say ‘Hung like a horse” instead of “like a sorry jackass’!”

Was yelled out to the crowd, causing the already daunting laughter to grow louder and more deafening all the expense of the donkey’s humility.

The donkey turned around to find the source of the quip only to find the source laying at his feet, sprawled out in an attention seeking pose, it was Scraps, whose copper snaggle tooth stood out among his other teeth in the large grin he had plastered on across his face, proud at the quick witted joke he made at his new found foe’s expense.

The donkey’s face shined a bright red from a combination of embarrassment and pure rage, not exactly jovial at his ‘little secret’ being shown to every patron at the bar. He gripped his switchblade in both hands, bringing the knife above his head with the sole intent of lodging the weapon deep and rapidly as possible into the gullet of the trickster possum.

“YOU FUCKING SHITRAT, ILL KILL Y-”

The donkey was cut short by a size 8 ladies steel toed boot driven directly into his ball bag. The impact cause his little soft cock to ricochet up and bounce of his mons, flinging pre-ejact in an up and outward direction. The kick had driven both of his testicles quickly and violently up into his bony abdomen where the right one barely managed to find safety, albeit severely battered as a result. The same cannot be said for the left gonad, which upon later examination at the ER was described as “nearly unidentifiable as once a testicle”. As Dixie brought her foot back from the bare crotch of her brother’s would be attack, the donkey dropped his knife on the ground to grasp his rapidly swelling scrotum, only vomit onto the floor and possum in front of him out of pure, raw agonizing pain. He then fell to onto his left side to the floor, letting out a sudden yelp as the impact of hitting the floor jostled the now liquefied remains of his left nut and severely bruised remaining right nut that his ballsack now contained. He relieved his bladder shortly before passing out in a pool of his own blood and semen laced urine.

“EWWW Fucking gross!!”

Scraps said as the donkey’s vomit which stank of beer and pickled eggs covered his lap and lower torso area. The possum stood up and began looking at his immediate surrounds for some sort of rag to wipe off the puke with.

A mixture of cheers for the hyena’s victory and “Ohh”s of sympathy for the now half-sacked donkey came from the crowd that surrounded the impromptu arena. Dixie looked toward the front windows of the establishment and noticed a glow of red and blue lights that seemed to be getting closer and closer. Just as Dixie began to realize the situation unfolding before her, Rebecca from behind the bar yelled out

“FIVE-O! FIVE-O! PAROLEES AND FUGITIVES OF THE LAW! THIS YOUR CHANCE TO GET THE FUCK OUT! THE WATERING HOLE IS NOW CLOSED!”

A panic had hit the crowd who were all seeking the nearest exit, scrambling as the majority delved into hysteria.

Among the chaos Dixie regained her sense and jumped to action.

“We gotta go….” Dixie said to her two compatriots, grabbing each by a wrist before hurrying them along to the fire exit located toward the back of the bar.

The three made there exit to the alley located behind the bar. Not knowing the next reasonable move to make to keep the trio out of trouble, she began to panic

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK…… What do we do? Fuck!”

Scraps noticed the dumpster that was no doubt used by Rebecca for the Watering Hole’s trash. He tapped his sister on the shoulder to reassure her of their safety.

“Dixie! Dixie… the dumpster!” He pointed to the large blue stinky beacon of safety.

A smile formed on the disheveled face of the hyena as she, Scraps and Luke made their way to the dumpster.

Scraps gave Luke a boost first then, Dixie second and after the two made their way in Scraps grabbed the edge of the bin and mantled himself expertly into the dumpster by himself, having some experience being an avid dumpster diver himself. As the Scraps made his way in and shut the lid, the three hunkered down and waited for dawn before trying their luck at making a break for the truck.

As the three started to get comfortable for the long wait an overconfident possum broke the silence.

“Man, I was this close to having that horse chicks number….”

He whispered to the two, which in response was a silence that spoke more than any response Dixie or Luke could muster up.

“What?…. What?……. I could have….”

The End