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Natural morning light poured into the main window of the unkempt apartment. The tranquil stream of illumination washed up upon the dark-grey and white face of the young rat as he lay curled up on the stained sofa. The fleshy tail of the shirtless Ely fell lifelessly over the edge of the cushions, to the littered carpeting below. That stillness would be suspended moments later when the pink tail would twitch just a bit, and shift across the floor, while further up his wiry frame, Ely's black eyes would emerge from their shelter, the blurry, confusion of waking up facing the back of the sofa eventually focusing into an understanding of his environment. He drew in what would be a relatively normal breath for some, but for a quick-hearted rodent like himself, a mild yawn.

The way this sofa seemed to generate heat made for an immediate but gingerly rise to a sit. At his feet were a number of liquor bottles. In the bedroom his mother slept heavily in the one bed they owned. She could really pack it away...but she'd had help last night. A stoat, or mink or...something like that. Danny wasn't dumb, she usually needed one or two in her in order to go through with it, but she'd make sure to load up the John, first. If she were lucky, it would make him easy to please and quick to finish. Luckier yet, he'd forget how much she said the original rate would be.

When Ely was younger, Danny would either have a neighbor watch her son or find something for him to do while she was working, but now that he was old enough, he was a part of it in a way. Clients wouldn't start with him in the room so he'd wait outside to begin with, but meander back in after a while. Once back inside he'd just...listen. He didn't care for it, but it was he, not Danny, who insisted. It was a matter of security. He'd listen for any signs of hostility or struggling, sitting on this very couch with the .45 hidden nearby. So far, he hadn't had to brandish the weapon yet.

Ely ascended to a stand, lifting his arms in the air and indulging in a squinty-eyed stretch, the skinny rodent tightening the shape of his chest and already pronounced rib cage. His paws slapped down onto the sides of is denim-covered legs before the rat and his frayed jeans stepped carefully over toward the tiny hallway, if you could call it that (Ely usually didn't), where a left turn would take him into the bathroom. He flipped on the switch just inside the door, filling the small room with a yellowish, dingy glow from the lights above the mirror. The mirror itself greeted him from the right, playing back the scruffiness he'd earned from his night aboard the couch. He wasn't yet interested in how he looked, first things first.

Moments later, the sound of running water permeated the silence of the entire apartment as the bowl drained. Now Ely would go ahead take a look in the mirror. He ran his fleshy paws over the fur on his face, smoothing it out a bit. Beyond his face, the mirror revealed the presence of a cockroach, skittering along the bathtub wall behind him. Ely turned to see the bug for himself, just as the insect's haste caused it to drop into the tub. Ely approached the bathtub, looking down to see the roach righting itself to its legs again. The bug scurried aimlessly in the tub while the rat above knelt to the floor to get a closer look. These things were fast, hard to keep your eyes on it...if it's looking for food, then it would best try another room or better yet, another apartment. A lot people thought these things were scary or disgusting, more so than most other bugs. Seemed arbitrary, butterflies came right at you, after all, bees sting, ants are everywhere. The rat didn't really understand. Bugs were bugs, and bugs didn't seem that bad to him.

While he was here, it seemed like a good time to sneak a shower in. He usually preferred to have one at night, when he could use the coolness that came with wet fur to stave off the discomfort of the hot nights. He didn't get one last night, however, he stayed up late waiting for Danny's visitor to leave, which didn't happen until around three in the morning. By then, he didn't really feel like jumping into the shower.

From his knelt position, Ely turned the bathtub's valves, and the water flowed. The cockroach would get caught in the stream, and whisked away with the water. The rat didn't really like to do it but Danny was right, there were too many of these things around here. When the water reached the ideal temperature, Ely switched on the shower head. The poor water pressure made for a limp stream but it would have to do. the raining water washing the roach toward the drain. Sorry, buddy. Good luck.

After ten or fifteen minutes, a dripping rat stepped out of the steamy bathroom, his wet tail slithering back and forth behind him. Directly across from the bathroom door was the sliding closet door which held his modest collection of clothing. They didn't bother hanging the garments up on the bar, Ely's clothes all sat piled in a lime-grin bin which sat on the floor inside. After a little rummaging he found a usual pair of cutoffs, rather worn and tattered but he wasn't going anywhere fancy today. Quickly he slipped them on and then got to work removing his one and only belt from the old pair left nearby. With the belt strapping the pants to his narrow waist, the young rodent moved for the living room again, stopping near the table in front of the couch. Yesterday's red shirt lay in a pile of itself, draped over a couple of the liquor bottles before being snatched up and used to dry the rat's fur. They didn't have any actual towels, one of those things Danny had neglected to buy and continued to put off. It wasn't a big deal, on most days, especially toward the summer, one could just sit outside for a few, and they'd be nice and dry in no time. But Ely only wanted to stop dripping, a little dampness wasn't a real problem.

The shirt was thrown carelessly behind him, toward the narrow hallway he'd just exited. That's where the dirties would live. Laundry was done whenever Danny felt it was worth the quarters or whenever Ely decided it couldn't be put off for any longer. Everybody at school already thought the rat to be dirty, no reason to give them fodder. Along with the various toys and supplies of Danny's, a wall clock sat on the short table. Hanging it up didn't seem that necessary. It was 11:07 in the morning, give or take a few minutes. Ely was in charge of setting the clock whenever the battery died, which involved running outside, asking somebody for the time, running back in and setting the clock accordingly, assuming they had a battery handy.

A bit of a clean up was warranted, Ely decided, glancing over all of the beer bottles and other bits of trash laying around. A box of garbage bags sat on the bar which separated the kitchen from the main room, and the rat would remove one of the black, plastic receptacles and get to work tossing bottles and cigarette butts inside. The crinkling of the bag served as its own soundtrack for the task, the rest of the apartment surprisingly silent for an urban building. Not unusual for the morning though, most of these people probably didn't get up until around noon if they had the option.

With about six bottles in the bag, and several empty cigarette packs, Ely checked around the other side of the couch, where he saw a needle sticking out from partially under the couch. Pushing the couch over a bit, he'd unearthed the entire device; could have been sitting there for weeks. It wasn't Danny's, she had her own on the table. As tempting as it would be to toss hers, he knew she was at least smart enough to only use her own needle, but she wouldn't stop just because her personal injector was gone, and Ely knew that. So there it remained, on the table. As for this needle he'd just found, well...this wasn't his first foreign needle, and the rat had a bit of a system for these. Picking up a beer bottle he hadn't yet tossed, he set the glass container on the table before cautiously taking a hold of the needle's plunger to pick it from the floor. He'd set the syringe into the bottle, needle first, and let it drop down, where the finger guard would catch on the lip of the bottle. He'd take that out by itself, later.

As he continued to work on the floor, Ely recalled the places they lived before this one. He wasn't the kind of person to get hung up on the interior, but this carpet was incredibly ugly. Somewhere between beige and brown and even that terrible color couldn't hide all of the stains. The dingy shade of yellow on the walls didn't make it better, this was one of those rooms that made the air somehow feel even hotter just by looking at it. Their last place was a newer building with greyish carpeting in the bedroom and wood floors in the main room, which was considerably easier on the eyes, although their total space was actually a bit less plentiful. It still didn't keep it from costing more, and Danny's memories were getting more and more expensive to sedate. So here they were, in this old building with carpeting that could, at best, camouflage most kinds of vomit.

Within moments, he was satisfied that the area by the couch was...cleaner. Making the area spotless seemed more than somewhat pointless given how soon he'd be back down here. So many bottles...not all from last night, but enough of them were fresh, and more yet were probably in the single bedroom. Danny should be checked on.

He set his well filled trash bag to the side for the moment, careful not to knock over the bottle and needle as he moved toward the bedroom door. It wasn't latched but it was unlikely his morning activities would have disturbed his mother. The 18-year old crept into the bedroom pockmarked with holes and dents in the wall. Yes, they could afford this place. In the bed, which was just the box spring and mattress, curled under a thin sheet slept his mother. Danny took in and released steady breaths, so it was clear she hadn't overdone it last night. Now Ely only hoped that she'd passed out only after the guy had left, so she'd at least still have the money. Of course, they'd probably never give her the money if they knew she no longer had a manager, but Danny wasn't stupid enough to tell them that. The younger rat stepped toward the bed and observed his mother closer. She was prettiest when she slept, absorbed in the peace that came with rest, rather than the disfiguring kind that came from that needle. In this way her youth was apparent, at only thirty-six years of age. Of course, the troubling reality bore down on that thought; as a rat, and with the lifestyle which ensnared her, she optimistically had fifteen healthy years left, and maybe another four or five struggling after that.

But she was okay, right now. She slept peacefully and showed no foreboding signs. It would be yet another day.

A few bottles had rested on the plastic bin that served as a bedside table. He carefully collected them, quietly exiting the bedroom. Ely would go back to cleaning a little bit, touching up on areas other than the couch. The good news was that they never had huge amounts of trash since they never had much to make trash out of. Once he felt the place looked a little better, the first thing he did was take the bottle-needle, and head for the door.

First the chain...then the dead bolt...then the knob. And the door would open. Ely's palm and four fingers gripped the bottle neck and his thumb rested firmly on the plunger as he left the apartment, closing the door lightly behind him. He trotted up the stairs and pushed through the never-locked security door. Outside the sun shined brightly and strongly, accompanied by a fair amount of clouds to instill in those with meager hopes a sense of optimism for a few bouts of shade on a hot day. As he stepped gracefully down the cracked, concrete steps which made up the building's stoop, he could already feel the warmth drying out his damp fur. Indeed, towels were perhaps unnecessary.

Ely's barefoot walks into the back lot were nothing short of heroic with the rocks, glass, and yes, needles that were out there at any given time. He'd avoid them if he could, but as a rat who'd spent his entire life barefoot, he could walk on just about anything, as could anyone else who didn't care for or couldn't afford shoes. Glass laying flat would just crumble beneath his feet, and rocks had to be rather sharp for him to feel it. And it still couldn't compare to the barefooted skating injuries he'd sustain as a youngster. Danny had been very generous to spend their strained funds on bandages and things of the sort for Ely when he was younger, getting him that first skateboard was financially unsound when thought about. They were extremely lucky that the little rat hadn't broken any bones, they could have never afforded to have him treated. The most affordable way to continue skating was to stop falling. So that's what Ely did.

Approaching the rank dumpster, Ely pitched the bottle inside, where it landed softly among whatever other trash was within. Now it's the city's problem. He didn't hang out; this thing smelled awful. He shuffled for the back door, hopping up the back stoop and re-entering the shared dwelling. The dumpster excursion was over, but he's always have the memories. A set of stairs going down, left turn, and a couple dozen steps later, he'd stand in front of the brass numbers denoting door 102.

The old door came to a rattling close behind the rat. But there he stood. The place was as barren as ever, and it was doubtful to think the teenaged rat would discover its hidden charm this morning, appreciate the unmitigated, discolored isolation to be alone with his thoughts. He'd been thinking nonstop for eighteen years, it wasn't that special, no matter how much those people exhausted from their cell phones said it was, before ultimately never doing it.

He looked toward the bedroom door. When she woke up, she'd first recall that she'd sold a little more of herself last night. And then she'd head right for the couch, and do what she does there. If that were the case, then she's going to eat first. Ely ambled into the kitchen. They'd eat breakfast, today.

The magnetic strip of the refrigerator door tore away from the frame and Ely stuck his head into the destitute appliance. Right in the center of the top shelf, thrown in at an angle, sat a carton of eggs. Ely grabbed them and a dwindling back of lunch meat which held two remaining slices. He shut the fridge door with his feet and set his materials onto the two feet of counter space available to the left of the sink. The light in here burnt out a while back and the two rats had deemed it an unnecessary repair. Ely had nothing better to do than to clean what few dishes they had when it became necessary, so the cookware was indeed tucked away nicely in the single cupboard by the refrigerator when Ely reached for one of them. You could get three pans for ten dollars if you went to the right kind of store. Whether or not they should be used for three years was debatable.

The pan was set onto the front left burner of the old stove before Ely twisted the corresponding dial to spark the fire alive. A couple of the apartments in this building had their stoves replaced with electric ones, but apparently management didn't want to pay to have them all replace at once. Generally they waited until the gas line of a given apartment showed some kind of problem before replacing the stove. Basically, they'd have to come pretty darn close to dying before they'd get a new stove.

Ely reached back and grabbed two eggs, one for each paw. Holding them over the cheap frying pan, the skillful rat broke both eggs open at once without even cracking them against the pan or each other. The two yolks fell to the pan and spread over the surface, one of them breaking. Ely took two more eggs and repeated the process. With four yellow suns in the black pan there was nothing to do but wait for the whites. This was pretty much what they ate - eggs and sliced meat. It was cheap, tasted decent, and resulted in awfully shiny fur for the both of them. Perhaps the beautifying benefit explained why Ely had acquaintances at all. The 18-year old picked up one of the deserted egg shells. After studying it for a moment he crushed it in his paw. Satisfying noise, interesting sensation. He'd repeat the activity with the other three shells before washing their slime off of his paws in the sink.

His back against the refrigerator, there he stood, arms crossed, one leg bent, head pointed to the floor while the rodent thought about whatever the hell the kitchenette's linoleum reminded him of. After several minutes of thinking about bottle caps and cockroach carcasses, the eggs neared completion. It was time to throw on the steak. Two slices of meat slapped into the pan and the feast had almost become reality.

For the moment he'd leave the kitchen and stride toward the bedroom. No need to be quiet this time, but it was important not to be startling. He stepped inside and moved for the bedside. Danny remained in hibernation, as was expected. A small shake of her shoulder. You never woke up any rat with haste, especially Danny. The force behind the shakes were as graduated as the process of any fine recipe. Shake, look at her face. No response. Shake again, repeat.

Once he'd found that magic amount of urging, one of her blue eyes slowly emerged into the real world. Immediately her head snapped up to him, confirming he was no source of danger. Ely turned and walked out of the room, there was no need to say anything. A moment later, Danny could smell the food cooking and knew what she'd been summoned for. Still, she'd take a few minutes. She could hear that it was still in the pan, after all.

The female rat ran a paw over her face, trying to get with a program. On the floor, next to the plastic bin rested a collection of folded money bills. Last night...oh yeah, right. She reached down lethargically, pinching the money between her thumb and first finger before bringing it closer to her blurred visual sense. She flipped through the bills...a hundred bucks. Those morning where you wake up a whore are a bummer; you'd think being able to buy cigarettes again would at least make it feel a little better.

In the drawer below the counter there were three forks. One for Ely, one for Danny, and a spare, as luck had blessed them. They never got around to buying a spatula so one of these forks and a spoon would have to do. Standing over the pan again, Ely carefully used his instruments to flip the meat slices. From here on in, residual heat would be sufficient, and he turned off the burner. Through the window of the bar the young rat could see his mother stumble out of the bedroom and drag herself toward the bathroom, a paw pressed against the wall for balance. She shuffled along in a drained state, dragging the cuffs of yesterday's jeans along the floor, bare from the waist up, just like her son. She kept her head pointed always at the ground, the color and texture of the carpeting reminiscent of an endless dead forest. Neither rat cared much for the carpet.

Ely waited for a moment or two for the remaining heat to do its thing before taking the meal's final step. With the conjoined effort of a fork and spoon, Ely lifted out two eggs onto a plastic plate (part of a three-pack, for a dollar) and soon one slice of meat would join them. Those would be his, and they smelled pretty good; he had grown rather fond of their breakfast days, having it every day would probably just depreciate the occasion. Bringing down another plate from the cupboard, the young rat prepared his mother's food, situating it onto the plastic dish. Ely had taken the broken yolk, easier to deal with than the regulars. From the counter below the cupboard came a plastic, disposable cup. If you were careful enough with these you could easily reuse them as many as ten times. 20 for a dollar, practically a steal. Filling the cup with tap water, the rat would soon have his mother's food and drink ready to go.

As Danny prepared to leave the bathroom, she looked down to the floor, in a now instinctual habit of avoiding her own reflection as she passed the mirror. Turning back into the hallway, Ely's discarded red shirt reminded her that she might consider throwing a shirt of her own on, although she was in her own home, and there wasn't much to see on the flat body of a female rat. Still, as comfortable as the freedom from upper clothing could often feel, the increased sense of vulnerability was enough to make her trudge into the bedroom, where her small collection of clothing was stored.

As mother rat disappeared into the bedroom, Ely delivered her water and breakfast to the coffee table. First he'd have to make a space within the bottles and cigarette butts, and various pipes. Too bad the weed was no longer enough, thought Ely has he deposited the bag elsewhere on the table. He set down the water and plate and headed back to the kitchen to recover his own meal.

Danny would emerge now from the bedroom, sporting a white tank top, largely camouflaged over her white and black body. From there she could see her plate sitting on the table, still barely warm enough to steam in the daylight. She approached slowly, knowing the food was probably hers but never being one to act in any definitive manner. She sat down in front of the plate, looking over the eggs and meat. Nothing new, but it would do the trick. The female rat nibbled at an itch on her arm before stopping in favor of nibbling at an itch on her other arm. Ely stepped with rodent-like quietness into the room, holding his own food, but no drink. Danny shifted over, allowing her son to take a seat beside her. When he started picking at the plate in his paws, it seemed safe for the female rat to assume the one on the table was indeed for her.

They ate in silence as they usually did. Perhaps meals were an ideal time for bright, shiny families to discuss their lives or the planned events of the day, but there was nothing to talk about here. 'Still shooting up?' 'You gonna go skate today?' Rats don't waste time talking about things that are a given. Nothing had changed in their lives within the three years since they changed homes again. The bugs were still here, the carpeting was still atrocious, they still couldn't afford breakable dishware and this couch smells like something.

No reason to discuss it.

The eggs could benefit from salt or something but they didn't bother with seasonings. It didn't matter, they were used to unsalted eggs, for more flavor just eat them with the lunch meat. Of course, it always felt expensive, blowing 4 eggs on one meal, let alone two pieces of meat. It always felt like they should have been saving for a rainy day...whatever that meant. To others, every day here would feel pretty damp but after years of living within it, one couldn't help but realize how utterly indulgent so much of modern life was. So many people worry about what they don't have, they don't realize what they're already wasting. Coffee every day? How tired are you? It made sense for the guy giving them Danny's smokes at 11PM, having sat for fifteen minutes in eight hours. But for the people in those fancy spinning chairs? It seemed pretty relaxing, surely once they could wake up for free.

Here, people just got up and did what they did. But even all of that was nothing new to these two rodents, they could discuss their social betters all day long and they'd still be sitting on the same couch. So why bother discussing it? And who the hell is that knocking on the door?

Ely didn't joyride with his food so his plate was nearly finished when he set it down to go check on their apparent caller. Danny glared nervously toward the door before defaulting to looking at the floor as Ely neared the entrance. With a black, round eye focused into the peephole, Ely identified the knocker. What is he doing here....

The door opened and Ely stood face to face with Spencer, who wore his usual oversized, salmon colored skating shirt with some jeans. The squirrel flashed his usual quick, silly grin.

"Hey, Ely."

The rat would not respond, merely looking around to see if anybody else was about. Normally he'd hold the door open only a crack, usually with the chain attached, but this was just Spencer. His visit to the door itself was strange but likely harmless.

"Did...you just get up?" asked Spencer, noting the rat's shirtless status. Although it was common for all rats to remain light on clothing. It was the first time the little squirrel had come directly to the rats' door. Ely wasn't sure what to think.

"You normally ring the bell," remarked the rat, referring to the call function on the panel outside the building's door.

Spencer slipped his paws into his pockets, looking around the hallway, blinking a lot, as he often did. "Yeah, I know, but, you know, I was here and...usually you're out waiting on the steps, but today you weren't and...and didn't just want to go home, it's a kinda long bus ride, and...you know, that door wasn't locked."

"It's never locked."

"You told me it was, though."

"It's supposed to be."

"Well, anyway...I tried the door and it opened and I thought, what the heck, I've never been in your apartment before. Actually, I don't know if I've ever been in any apartment building."

Spencer's reddish-furred tail curled up and fluttered behind him as he glanced past Ely.

"So...this is your place?"

"Yes...."

From this angle, the squirrel could also see Ely's mother through the paneless window which separated the kitchen and main room.

"Is that your mom?"

"Yes."

Spencer waved toward the female with another goofy smile. "Hi Mrs....um...Mrs. Ely!"

Ely couldn't help but glance back toward his mother, knowing she couldn't have been keen at all on being addressed by what she would consider a stranger. Sure enough, her timid glance to the door revealed an expression of utter bewilderment.

"I...I'm Spencer, I...skate with your son. He's pretty cool...it's nice to meet you!"

With no instincts on how to respond, all Danny could think to do was look back down to the floor, trying to look busy by nursing at her food a bit more.

At the door, Ely turned back toward Spencer, looking unamused with the red-furred rodent's unsolicited greeting but unsure of how to justifiably scold his squirrel friend about it.

"She's nice," complimented Spencer, basing his comment on literally nothing other than social custom, like those suburbanites tended to.

Ely continued to say nothing, making Spencer struggle to keep this thing on course.

"Yeah, so...I told you I'd come over today. Sorry if I'm sorta early...are you...busy?"

"I'm eating."

"Oh...sorry, I shouldn't have bugged you...sorry...I'm sorry, I can go."

Rat's weren't ones to roll their eyes, but Spencer had taught Ely the point of the gesture.

"I'll come out in a minute," Ely offered.

"Oh yeah?" chittered Spencer, now more animated. "W-well, you don't have to, I mean, if you wanna stay inside, that cool."

"It's fine," insisted the rat as he always did, stepping back into the apartment.

"Alright, well awesome, I'll just...hang out here, it's sorta cool, maybe I'll look around. Is that okay?"

His answer came in the form of the door 'thudding' to a close. Had he overstepped his bounds? Nah, nah...it was fine...Ely said it was fine...Ely always says its fine, though...it's fine.

From the sofa, Danny watched her son stride back into the main room, heading for his plate. He picked it up to finish off his breakfast from a standing position.

"Who was that," Danny asked with uncertainty.

"Spencer." The squirrel had indeed already identified himself in enthusiastic fashion, but apparently Danny wouldn't believe it without Ely's confirmation.

"What does he want...?"

"Skate," Ely responded, with a mouth full of food.

"Oh...."

After swallowing the rest of the food, he'd take the plate back to the kitchen, tossing it in the sink along with the fork. He ran a bit of water to wash away the yolk - didn't want it to be a pain to clean, later. From here Ely could hear the guy from 105 yelling about something.

It was understandable that the young rat was always outside skating, Danny often thought, there was nothing to do or see in here. Her resistance to being outside outside of necessity made for rather lonely and boring days, but she couldn't ask him to stay in here all day. He'd found a reason to head out; somebody to come to the door and summon him out there. It was enviable, if not miraculous.

With his preemptive dish work finished, Ely trotted over toward the door and scooped up his skateboard. The door slammed behind him as entered the main corridor, looking around. Spencer was nowhere to be found, at least not to begin with. When Ely turned to trot up the small set of stairs, he saw the squirrel huddled fearfully in the corner by the front door, eyes wide, twitching a bit more than usual. Ely wasn't going to bother asking but Spencer volunteered the short story.

"O-okay that guy in door 105 like...yelled at me."

"Yeah," replied Ely.

The security door swung open as the rat pushed through, wasting no time trotting down the stairs.

"Dude, wait!" Spencer called, scurrying out the door. "I was gonna tell you something."

Without missing a beat, Ely slowed and came to a sit on the stoop, his usual place of daily business. Spencer trotted down the steps and rested on the barricade to Ely's left. The rat turned his head slightly but mostly looked forward.

"Yeah so...the guys at the skate park are gonna have a contest next weekend."

Ely said nothing.

"It's not like, a big...sponsored thing, it's just between a few guys...ten, or twelve, or something like that...you put in ten bucks and you'll win money if you come in first, second, or third place."

Still, Ely had no response.

"And, you know, I thought maybe you could enter it. I mean, you'd totally bury those guys, you'd kill 'em, dude."

More silence.

"So...whaddya think?"

"I don't think it would work."

"Dude, why not?"

"How do they say who wins?"

"They're gonna have like...three guys on the side to be judges."

"Yeah."

Spencer blinked. "Yeah, what?...Dude, come on, you're freakin' awesome, you can totally win! You'll probably win like...fifty bucks or something, maybe more if more people enter. Don't you want to kick their butts?"

A shrug. "Not really."

"But like...dude! It'd be so easy, you just head down there and like...bury them! I don't care how, like...stuck up they are, they're all going to have to admit that you're awesome, and like, I dunno...if there's any girls there, they'd probably wanna, you know...say hi or something. But I guess you don't really like girls...not that you're, oh god, I'm not like, saying you're gay."

Ely turned toward Spencer now, with a blank look.

"I mean, not that it would be a problem if you were gay, I mean, it might be sorta weird but like I'd be cool with it...as long as you didn't like, try to hit on me, I mean I don't think you would, Rachael thinks I'm cute but a gay guy probably wouldn't, and it doesn't matter because you're probably not, anyway, I mean...you should go to that contest, dude."

The staring treatment from Ely endured a few moments longer before the rodent turned his attention forward again. Lifting himself from his sitting position, he scooped up his board and trotted down the stairs again. The skateboard clattered to the ground before Ely climbed on. Spencer took this as a sign that he too had better get moving.

"Come on dude," urged Spencer, hopping off of the steps, "you're always just, you know, hanging out on these steps. This is a chance, to like...get out there, and stuff. Meet some other skaters, then kick their butts!"

That Spencer, so much faith in people. It was almost cute. Ely took off down the street, leaving Spencer behind with his big ideas. The squirrel hastily boarded his own skateboard and followed the rat.

"Ely, wait up!"

Ely kickflipped out of simple but perfect 50-50 grind on the bottom step of the large stoop leading up to his high school's back entrance. Yes, ordinarily this would be frowned upon but on a Sunday, nobody was paying close attention to a school with no band or computer lab.

"I'm just saying, it would be totally awesome to watch you do that contest."

The rat rolled back toward Spencer, who had watched the rat's grind from his position in the back lot.

"I don't have no money," Ely reasoned.

"Well..that's no big deal really, I mean I can cover your ten bucks, easy."

Ely chose to balance out a manual, rather that respond.

"So, how's that?"

"I don't want to take your money."

"It's fine dude, I got more."

"You shouldn't pay twice," Ely insisted, setting his manual down.

"Hey bro, I never said I was entering the contest. If you enter, I probably don't even have to bother!"

The stubborn rat pumped toward the other side of the parking lot while Spencer followed, the little squirrel pulling off a shoveit it as he followed. In front of him, Ely snapped out a nollie flip before turning toward a parking curb, snapping out an ollie before nosegrinding the slab of concrete. Spencer could go for the same parking curb, performing a small ollie into a modest tail slide. When his skateboard was on flat ground again, he'd momentarily forgot his debate with Ely and got to thinking about that elusive handstand some more.

Never one to think on things for long, Spencer immediately pumped up to a steady speed, and bent his knees. He planted those fleshy paws on the skateboard and lifted his lower body into the air, using his luxurious tail for balance. He had it now, but he'd have to set it down. His legs began to come back down. He started losing it...legs came a little closer...he lost it. The poor little rodent's board skidded out from under him and he crumbled to the pavement. He was tough, he didn't stay down long, rising to a sitting position there in the parking lot. He checked his left wrist. It hurt like hell but, no blood.

"Jeez," groaned the squirrel.

Ely skated toward Spencer, who was picking himself up off the ground, dusting himself off.

"See, if I entered, I'd probably just fail like that. You should let me cover you."

"I don't want - "

"Even if I just paid for myself, I'm probably not going to beat Preston anyway so I'd just be, like, wasting my money. He's like, the best at that park. Except you, I mean. And I get so freaking tired of everyone acting like he's so great, and like...kissing his butt because of it."

Still, Ely had nothing to say, having little interest in trying to convince suburban kids that he too was a skater and a person. Spencer wouldn't quit, though.

"They'll never see you coming, dude," the squirrel prophesied, placing a paw on Ely's bare shoulder with a few gentle shakes.

The rat glared down at Spencer's paw. He was touching him.

Knowing better, Spencer immediately withdrew his paw.

"Sorry."

Ely pumped forward now, heading for the end of the school's parking lot. When it became clear that he was leaving, Spencer assumed he was meant to follow, or at least, wasn't disallowed from doing so. The squirrel took off after the rat, as they would head for a different locale.

It was new and interesting, sitting on stairs that weren't his own. Well, sort of. He'd sat on the desolate playground's stairs before, and since Spencer wasn't going to let this go, skating seemed to be on hold. Standing against the wall along the steps, Spencer continued his sermon.

"You know that when somebody asked Preston 'how'd you get so good' he just shrugged and said 'I guess I was just born with it?'"

Ely nibbled at an inch on his arm.

"I mean, who says that, seriously?"

A shrug.

"Look I know you don't want to...'take my money' or whatever, but it'd be so cool. You know, professional skaters get paid to skate, think of it as me like...paying you to skate for me."

This was getting awkward, and the stone-faced rat had to admit to himself that he didn't know how much he could take. From their left, a mother grey squirrel came striding down the sidewalk while her daughter scampered alongside her. Must be down on their luck if they ended up here. Could they really be seeing somebody come to this park? It appeared so as they approached the stairs now, the little girl eager to climb that first step. She was pretty cute. As her mother laid eyes on Ely sitting there (and took note of Spencer) she offered an uncertain smile before pulling her daughter off of the stairs. They'd both continue down the sidewalk. Apparently, they'd just go around. Spencer watched the mother and daughter go for a moment before turning back to Ely.

"Look, if you're that hung up on it, you can just give me back the ten bucks if you win anything, you'd still be ahead, probably."

That was true.

"And hey, think about it...if you win, you can like...take your mom out somewhere nice. A movie, or out to eat or...whatever."

It wasn't deniable, Spencer was getting a little better at this. And it had the rat thinking, soon he'd be out of school - he'd no longer be bringing money in, and he'd be wasting space and food. That wasn't fair to his mother, but if Ely wasn't prepared to move out, then he should help out financially when he could. The idea was to get a job when he was out of school, but that wouldn't be for another couple of months.

"What kind of...contest is it," Ely asked, reluctantly.

Spencer smiled a little, appearing to be making ground. "Oh, well it's...there's gonna be a vert part, and a grind part, and a free run where you can like, do whatever.

Ely twitched his nose and whiskers. "I don't do lot of vert."

"Yeah I know, but you've been to the park before, I know you did it a little bit. And even if you're not the best at vert, you'll totally kill'em at grinding. And in the free run, you can do whatever you're best at. You could probably win just by flatlanding."

"When," the monotonous rat inquired.

"This Saturday. At like...one. Or noon...I think they said 1 P.M."

Air blew out from the small nostrils of the white and grey rat. It seemed pointless, but Spencer, bless his heart, didn't know that. He was right, the chance to bring something in to the house was there, however scarce. If the rat was just being prematurely cynical then he'd be the medium through which a modest yet highly unusual stroke of luck would pass. If he were right, well, that naive little squirrel would get a small lesson on how the world works outside of the cul-de-sac.

Spencer leaned in with his trademark silly grin. "So?"

A shrug. "Maybe."

The rat rose now, grabbing the skateboard which rested on his knees, and trotted up the stairs. It was time to skate, again. Behind him, Spencer followed the rat, also eager to get back to it. Maybe the squirrel would enter, maybe he wouldn't...but it didn't hurt to practice. Contest or no contest, one day he'd nail that handstand.

Once well into the walkway of the elevated park, Ely dropped his board to the ground, where it would come to a rest on its side. With barely a thought put into it, he brought his bare foot down on the back of the board, kicking it into a spinning series of flips before jumping on and landing perfectly on the top of the board. He'd lift up the nose and pivot back toward the steps and their irresistible center railing.

Ely took off, pumping toward those stairs, he'd think of nothing else on the way there and he'd forget all about it when it was over. But it was all there'd be as he snapped an ollie into the air and just like that, the ollie was gone from his mind, now it was the tail slide which propelled him down the scratched and weathered railing of the urban park. The slide was over and in the past while he spun a quick shoveit out of whatever that last trick was at just the right time, still high enough to complete the 180-spin but not so soon that the wheels would hit the rail. He and the skateboard slammed down on the wheels with a mix of breaking and powersliding to stop him dead before hitting the grassless boulevard. And with that, he'd managed to kill seven seconds.