FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Written by Choice Cuts Deli

Commission for Tomek | February 2022 | 5533 Words

"Heeeeeey kiddos!" The fatherly raccoon plastered a broad grimace on his face as he rushed out the front door to his cozy suburban home. Pausing only long enough to turn on his heels, rush back up the front porch, and slam the door shut behind him, Tomek tried, and failed to make the smile seem normal as he watched his adopted son Walker stepping up towards the front walkway. "Y- You guys said you were, ahhh, coming in a few weeks?"

"You won't believe the bullshit, dad," the Tonkinese cat growled rolling his eyes as he threw up his paws. "The moment we gave notice to our asshole slumlord, he told us to get packing. When we said that's against the law, he got our neighbors to start playing music till 3 AM." As his husband Toby wrangled their three little kittens out of the car seat in the back of the family car, the tabby clearly adept at handling their wiggly little bodies, Walker motioned back to the U-Haul trailer strapped to the back of their undersized sedan. "We tried everything. Cops wouldn't help, the kittens were just screaming constantly. I figured since you knew we were coming anyways you wouldn't mind us moving in a little early?"

"E- Early? N- Noooooo, not at all!" Tomek swallowed, the hefty-bellied raccoon's eyes glancing to the side behind his salt-and-pepper mask. "You boys are always w-" Pursing his lips tight, the raccoon's head turned slightly to the left, before darting back to Walker, the Tonkinese cat tilting his head in confusion after catching the abrupt movement. "But uh, um... well, you see, I've not had time to get things ready, y'know."

As Toby joined him at the front walkway, the little kittens in hand, Walker took a step closer to the porch. "I mean, we can help if it's just setup and all that." Tomek reflexively stepped backwards in time with Walker's approach, his shoulders bumping back against the doorway. "Means we can redecorate too. I don't mind moving our old stuff up from the basem-" Interrupted by the sound of shattering glass, Walker paused in his tracks, the feline pursing his boxy muzzle as he could just barely make out a high-pitched cry that seemed to be coming from the front room. "...what was that?" He asked, turning his gaze back to his father, whose paws were now splayed out against the front door.

"That? Oh, I uh, left the TV on. You know us old men and loud volume, it sounds like a nursing home in there." By now, Toby seemed to be catching on that something was not right, a second high pitched whoop seeming to come from inside the door catching his ear. "Sooooo, you boys should uh, hey, how about we think about getting you a nice AirBnB, huh? Somewhere quiet for the next two, three, four weeks?" Walker gasped as he felt Toby stuffing the kittens into his paws, a defined purring growl rumbling in his chest as he pawned the little ones off on his husband. He only ever got that way when he smelled a rat. And from the sound of it, something seriously smelled like a rat. "Just a few so I can get things to get-"

"Alright, Mr. T..." Toby growled, the rough and tumble tabby cutting an imposing figure even if he was a good foot or so smaller than the middle-aged Tomek. "What's going on?"

"N- Nothing!"

A second, much louder clatter caused Tomek to splay his rounded ears back, followed by a high-pitched, but clearly audible cry, "Brett, you dumbass!" In a flash of hissing and spitting, pushing aside the very confused Tomek, Toby was able to wrangle his paw to the doorknob. Gripping it tight, Toby threw the door open with a slam, his eyes going wide as he forced his way into the living room, straight into what seemed to be a stereotypical college movie.

To call the house a mess was an understatement. Every surface of the kitchen and living room sat strewn about with paper plates and discarded pizza crusts, except for the coffee table. Two dozen or so beer cups were arranged in two triangles on either end of the table, some upturned but most still topped off with cheap amber beer. The room had certainly been lived in since they left; the smell of stale beer permeating the air only added to the dingy signs of pitter-patter caked into the carpet and smudgy handprints littering the walls. But it was not the state of Tomek's house that took Toby off guard. It was who seemed to be causing the chaos that left the tabby cat dead in his tracks.

The moment Toby burst in, he was met with a strange sight, about thirty or so little rounded ears perking up from every angle of the room. Twitchy little whiskered noses flitted towards the door as an entire infestation of mice all froze in panic at the sight of the tabby cat. All of them save for two - one who was being happily drunkenly loaded into a slingshot aimed at the beer pong table, and another, ostensibly the last one shot out of the slingshot, picking glass out of his fur having broken a few pictures on the fireplace mantle. "Wh- What is," Toby sputtered, jaw dropping as he watched one of the mice crank down the volume on a tinny, rodent-sized boombox.

"Heyyy, sooooo," Tomek huffed, stepping inside to bodily place himself between the tabby cat and the mice. "I've been meaning to tell you guys, I've uh, well I wanted to help offset some costs." As a very confused Walker stepped through the door, kittens in tow, the mice seemed even more concerned at what they saw. "So, I uh, reached out to my old frat friends, and they got me in touch with Mu Omicron Sigma, a fraternal order at the local college that needed a lodge for the year."

"You..." Walker swallowed, cocking his head to the side. "You turned our house into a frat?"

"Juuuust for the school year! It's um... it's over in three weeks, right, Brett?" Tomek smiled, turning his attention towards a white-furred mouse who was trying to gather his faculties.

"Y- Yeah, Mr. T," the little mouse squeaked, "It's Spring Weekend now, so we're off classes, then reading week and finals?" A few others nodded nervously in agreement.

"Guys, uh, so this is my son, Walker. His husband Toby and their kittens, Triss, Hunter and Devin James." With a nervous swallow, Tomek found himself forced to ask nervously. "L- Look, they need a place to stay. I know it's only a few weeks till you all are out, but... We can make something work right?"

CRASH! Another clatter of something breakable being destroyed out in the living room sent Walker's ears splaying, the Tonkinese cat nervously biting his muzzle as he gave his little kittens a shush and a rub. "Shhhh, it's okay," he sighed, happy to see that they did not stir too much. "Those damn mice are going to drive me insane," Walker huffed as he heard the door to his and Toby's old room open. Having quickly moved out the cadre of six mice who were renting the room, Walker and Toby spent most of the day trying to clean up the place to make it into a little enclave they could use to survive the last few weeks till graduation.

"Well, I've got good news," Toby huffed as he pushed through the old wooden door, pausing to squint as he realized they missed a few of the mice's items, particularly the triple posters of Scarface, Che Guevara and Pink Floyd still tacked onto their wall with chewing gum and framing nails. "And I've got some bad news," he finished at last, handing Walker a stiff drink he poured from the basement bar.

"The good news is that they've not cleared out Dad's liquor?" Walker huffed, happily taking his double Tom Collins.

"No, that's actually a miracle," Toby chuckled, sitting down on the end of the bed next to his husband. "The good news is that Spring Weekend is a, uh, it's a thing? Like the last party before they prep for final exams."

"So, it's over this weekend?" Walker asked expectantly.

"That's the bad news. It's going to get much worse this weekend."

"How can It get worse than having to clean up after they break your baby pictures playing beer pong?" Walker growled, another crash sending him into a nervous fright.

"I dunno about you, but, I got no idea how your Dad can handle them? They've literally torn up the place." Sipping at his whiskey sour, Toby shivered as he added, "Do you want me to tell you all the shit I found?

"I'm afraid, but yeah. Maybe we can use it to get dad to put some pressure on them?"

"Pfft. Well, the basement is a wreck. Like that furniture Dad and DJ built? Half of it's busted. The kitchen's got stains I can't identify, nor do I want to. I uh, I think I noticed coke residue on some... important stuff..." Toby swallowed, his words only bringing a fuming rage to Walker's face. With both paws clenched, it was clear the cat was growing sick of the fraternity's intrusion into his life, particularly how they damaged irreplaceable memories with his older brother. "Do you want me to..."

"Just say it," he insisted.

"DJ's portrait."

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Walker growled, only stopping himself as he watched little Triss stir in her bascinet. Just as Toby motioned to calm him down, the two were alerted to an intrusion when the music outside leapt a few decibels in volume. As the old door creaked a strange fluffy hand reached through the door. A mouse-sized fursuit, vaguely cat shaped and cut of oddly familiar looking orange-and-black fur, had awkwardly stumbled in the door. Lost in a drunken haze, the mouse wandered right into their bedroom, the little critter casually popping off the head before suddenly realizing his mistake.

"Woah, h- hey, sorry Walton. Sorry Tammy," the little rodent slurred, propping the orange and black furred head underneath the crook of his brown-furred arm. "I'm kinda ushhhed to sleepin' 'n here," the little thing stammered, floppy paws plapping on the ground as he trudged back out the door, leaving the confused pair aghast.

"Hun," Toby hissed softly, his chest beginning to rumble once more. "Was that my parents' fur?"

"From the upholstery and rug we made out of them?" Walker asked with a grimace, now fully aware that the mice had impacted Toby's life as much as his own.

"So I wasn't imagining that," Toby swallowed, his paws clenching tight as he tried to let his emotions ebb, even though the clear misgendering, coupled with the slight against his grieving mechanisms, were truly getting to him. "Walker, hun, can I ask you a favor?"

"Hmm?" The Tonkinese sighed, reaching out to rub his husband's shoulders, letting his claws scritch down his back. "What's that?"

"I need you to distract Dad for me."

"What are you-" Before he could ask, Toby had turned to face Walker, planting his muzzle right in front of his husband's for effect.

"I've not been able to indulge my desires for a long time. Not since... DJ, y'know... I've been hungry. But I've been saving myself for the kittens' sake. And uh... I think I can solve a few problems at once. I just need you and the kittens to go out and have a nice day with Grandpa." Swallowing, Toby snaggled a tooth over his muzzle as he added, "I'll take care of the rest."

A flash of orange and black flitted through the quiet house, the gentle thump thump of music coming from out back yard providing just enough cover for Toby to move practically unseen. Putting all his stalking skills to use, the tabby cat tried not to draw attention to himself; it was already a little odd that Tomek was not up like he usually was, cooking breakfast in his briefs and a tee shirt. But the mice did not seem to notice, or care. Peering out the hallway window into the backyard, he could count about twenty of the little bastards in the process of setting up a normal sized keg for them to do... whatever bullshit game they were planning for today. That ought to hold their attention for a while, Toby thought as he wandered towards the common areas of the house. The living room was empty, aside from a few discarded paper plates. But it was here that he found the first of many mice.

The little blue furred critter seemed utterly hungover. Standing in an open-top container of Folgers, its tiny arms were straining to try and lift another scoop of coffee grounds without spilling them everywhere. When it first caught sight of Toby, the little critter gave a nervous yip, his tiny douche-y snap-brim cap skewing on his head as he forced a grimace onto his face. It was awkward having the family of cats around, even moreso because their frat house was now a daycare. But the sophomore mouse seemed a bit relieved as Toby stepped up to him with a smile from ear to ear on his Cheshire face.

"Want some help?" He asked with a little grin, taking the scoop from the little mouse and dumping a few into Tomek's old drip pot.

"T- Thanks, uh, Toby, right?" The little mouse asked, his accent tinted with a bit of bro-ish grunt to his words as he spoke, like he belonged on some reality TV show about Spring Break.

"That's me," Toby chirped, picking up the carafe and filling it with the right amount of water. "So how's life in Mu Omicron Sigma? You guys get up to a lot of trouble, or is it more a study frat?" The question was clearly dumb to ask, but it served a purpose in Toby's eyes.

"Oh we're a, uh... service organization, focused on excellence and achievement for under-sized and physically disadvantaged creatures," the mouse replied, practically spitting out the boilerplate response he knew to give if anyone asked.

"Right, but I mean... This whole Spring Weekend thing is intense, huh? You guys got quite the setup out back. How many you think'll show up to the main event?"

"Oh! Yeah dude, it's uh, it's gonna be big," the mouse seemed to drop his shoulders as he watched Walker pour the water into the pot. "Oh, probably everyone! I mean most folks. Chico, James, Brian, Lil B..." the mouse rattled off about fifteen or twenty names that Toby didn't know, the tabby cat tallying his way through them in his mind. "I think there's like... eight of us still sleeping off last night? Some folks don't know how to hold their liquor." It was exactly what Toby wanted to hear. In a flash of claws, the tabby cat's paw darted out, squeezing around the hungover mouse's body before he could scurry away. Squishing the chubby little mouse's body between his paws, Toby casually considered the little critter, his eyes bulging out and breath exhausted from the pressure put on his belly and chest. "A- Ahhhhhnnn..." the little rodent wheezed out, arms almost comically wriggling between Toby's pawtips as the massive (by comparison) cat sauntered towards the kitchen.

"Thanks for the tip," Toby crooned as he plucked a fat, green grape from a bunch on the table, keeping his voice low to avoid alerting the other mice. Tucking the ripe fruit into the mouse's maw, he gave the gagged little rodent a kiss on the forehead, practically a feline headbonk, before cruelly stuffing the critter down the open slot to the kitchen toaster. The mouse squeaked in panic the moment he was let go, his little legs squirming outside the old metal contraption. That is, until Toby pushed down on the lever. Two wire paddles flicked upwards, grabbing the mouse about his chubby midsection before dragging him deep into the depths below. His terrified squeals reached a fever pitch just as the surrounding heating coils began to glow a terrifying bright orange.

Leaving the first of many mice to his fate, Toby crept back down the hallway to DJ's old room, wincing as he saw the level of destruction that the infestation of mice had wrought. A puddle of about seven mice, half-asleep, half-hungover, lay sprawled out upon the length of DJ's bed. As the tabby cat crept inside his brother-in-law's room, his blood began to boil at the realization that the mice were happily desecrating the porker's stuff. One still seemed wrapped up in a pair of DJ's tighty-whitey briefs, a makeshift toga for some frat house function. Toby was quick to snatch that one up in his paw, only to snarl as he figured out the source of an odd little scritch-scritch noise. A mottled little mouse was happily dry-humping against Mr. Snuffykins, the cute pink piggy plush toy that DJ never grew out of wanting to sleep with. That mouse got the same treatment, with perhaps a bit more claw digging into his flesh, as he dragged the dizzy pair over to the old steam radiator on the other side of the room.

The next five minutes involved the sadistic tabby cat carefully snatching up another exhausted mouse, bringing him over to the radiator and casually affixing him to the cold metal surface with whatever he could find. Old shoelaces, bits of modeling wire and string, even the blown-out elastic from a jock strap that the mice had used for bungie-jumping off a high shelf. In their addled state, most of the critters had no clue what was happening, their meaty and plump little bodies affixed firmly to the cold radiator like a macabre Christmas tree. That is, until the tabby cat turned the stopcock on the old radiator pipe.

Deep in the bowels of the basement, the propane heater clicked on, a seething hot flame heating the hydronic steam pipes, sending hot water coursing through the house plumbing. It took almost no time at all for the hot water to transfer its energy to the old radiator, the hungover mice quickly starting to yelp and whine at the inescapable heat that coated their bellies, backs, and whatever parts were exposed to the radiator fins. "Mmmm... ohhhh, what's wrong little ones?" Toby crooned, growling as he stuffed a paw down his pants, slowly working to unzip his jeans so he could get a better grip upon his cock.

A cacophony of tiny, wailing voices cried out, the barely foot-long mice screeching and squealing as they wriggled in helpless panic. Those who could open their eyes could only witness the terror of their captor sporting a broad grin upon his face, three fingers caressing his supple T-dick up to a full and sloppy erection. Though some had broken down into screeches already, others begged desperately, little "please!" and "no, no stop!" begging noises filling out DJ's old room.

"Oh, how silly of me," Toby growled, gripping a bottle of massage oil from the table next to DJ's old bed. It was definitely not from DJ's private stash, the bottle branded "BrOil: Massage Oil For Men Unafraid of Getting Wet with their Bros." Clearly a purchase by one of the mice. "I forgot the first rule of cooking." Upturning the bottle over the terrified mice, their bodies were quickly soaked in a horrid stench, something between an autobody shop and a leather tannery. Soon, however, the oil began to hiss and snap, sputtering as the radiator worked like a frying pan, transferring the heat far more efficiently and quieting down those last vestiges of sentient thought in the once-promising college mice. "Don't want you to burn after all."

Returning an oil-slick paw to his groin, Toby glanced to the door at just the right time, catching sight of the eighth mouse. It was the same, brown-furred bro from last night, the one that barged in wearing his dad's ass-fur as a set of cheap fursuit paws. Horrified, the little mouse began to back away, prompting Toby to crouch down, his forearms almost touching the floor as he stalked towards the rodent.

A clatter of terrified squeaks erupted as the hungover critter tried in vain to evade the pantsless tabby cat. For his part, he did a decent job, ducking under the beer pong coffee table and scurrying just out of reach of the snarling feline's paw when he batted about under the sofa. Forced to retreat towards the kitchen, the horrified mouse could barely keep from tearing up as he heard the terrified wails dying down from the other room. It did not help that his little lungs already beginning to choke on the plumes of smoke erupting from the toaster, the overwhelming smell of broiling mouse and burning flesh causing him to gag and sputter. After a valiant chase, the little mouse whimpered as he held up a paw to Toby. "P- Please! PLEASE," he squeaked with all his might, coughing as he caught himself on the kitchen cabinet. "Please don't- don't kill me! I- I'll do... I'll do anything!"

"Anything?" Toby growled, licking his chops as he stomped closer and closer to the little hellion.

"Anything! I'll... I'll suck your dick, bro, I- I'll- I'll let you fuck me, wh- whatever you want..." It was almost funny that now, in the midst of his desperation, he got Toby's gender right. Snatching the little mouse up into his paws, the little rodent was actually surprised that the towering tabby did not pop him like a stress ball. Rather, he held the cute little mouse almost as if he might hold a naughty pet. That good feeling disappeared quickly when Toby plopped the rodent down into the empty coffee carafe, the little thing whimpering as his makeshift prison was slammed back into the drip coffee maker.

"Alright, little one," Toby chuckled as he fiddled with the controls, his wicked grin distorted by the dirty, curved glass of the old coffee pot. "You can suck my dick. If you don't drown." The sound of rumbling steam echoed inside the coffee scented prison as Toby turned his attention to the backyard. "I'm gonna go have a chat with your frat president first."

Toby was almost impressed as he stepped out onto the back porch. The mice of Mu Omicron Sigma must have had a few engineers in their ranks, because their ability to improvise terrifyingly fun-looking creations was impressive. Another beer pong table was set up on the old see-saw out back, three slingshots made from some of Tomek's old spandex pants ready and waiting to assist the pint-sized critters with their throws. Most of the mice seemed preoccupied stuffing wood down the terracotta chiminea, eager to have themselves a bonfire as Blink 182 blared out the miniscule boombox nearby. But that wasn't what Toby was interested in. A normal-sized keg was set up near the back door, connected to a strange series of tubing built in an almost Rube Goldberg fashion. Toby might not have been one for day drinking, but he wanted to try his best to blend in. Not to mention, he was amused at how on earth the thing worked.

Giving the keg a pump, he felt the whole thing start to shudder, the tube giving a little blurp before a gush of beer poured out the spout. The bemused tabby cat watched as the flow collected in what appeared to be a shower-slung enema bag. But it did not seem to move, instead backing up almost to the very brim until the pressure equalized. Like a water horse for a football team, beer shot out strategically cut holes in the enema tube, filling up thimble-sized cups for the boys. But oddly enough the amount seemed very light compared to how much beer went in. Toby figured out what had caused the backup as a gooshing noise hit his ears, the end of the enema spout spitting out an absolutely wasted little rat who'd been attempting to use the enema bag as a sort of slip'n'slide. The smaller mice might have fit down the makeshift chute, but nobody told (or noticed) their bigger rat bro had gotten stuck in the line, his dizzy body only emerging after Toby gave it that final push.

"Goddamn kids," Toby muttered to himself, consolidating the smaller portions into a cat-sized cup before zeroing in on the one called Brett. The little, white-furred mouse certainly took pride in his appearance, his body thickly filled out with a little muscle underneath his pudgy exterior. He cut an imposing figure compared to many of the other mice, whose freshman fifteen were fare more noticeable. "Hey man," Toby grinned, thrusting his solo cup into the mouse's face. "Can already tell this'll be a wild party," the cat chuckled, getting a playful clink of plasticware back from the fraternity president.

"Thanks bud," the white-furred critter replied with a chuckle as some of his brothers hopped on a bottle of lighter fluid, sending a stream of flammable liquid jetting into the smoldering fire at the base of the chiminea. In a flash of bright flame, the whole terracotta stove erupted like a blast furnace out the top. "Hey, hope we didn't get off on the wrong foot and all," Brett added, swigging off his pint-sized cup. For a brief moment, Toby wondered if he was going to get an apology, a slight pang of nervousness striking him as he remembered the many mice inside whose last breaths were probably being drowned out by the smoke detector. That is, until Brett opened his big mouth again. "I mean, y'all were the ones who made us move our shit, but it's cool. I mean you are Mr. T's family. Just wish you didn't have those kids here, really ruins the vibe when they're up screaming."

"You know what?" Toby growled through gritted teeth, narrowing his eyes as he stared down the little shit. "I think I'd like to do something I've not done since I was a kitten." Stepping around the Adirondack chair the mouse was sitting in, one that clearly far too big for him, the tabby cat growled as he snatched a metal skewer, one of three, that sat idly on Tomek's old charcoal grill. The frat president, unaware that anything was amiss, idly turned his gaze back and upwards as Toby loomed behind his chair, blocking out the sun overhead. Little buck-toothed mouth agape, the mouse stared wide-eyed as Toby raised his paw, pausing only long enough to say, "I'm in the mood to toast some marshmallows."

It happened in a flash, the skewer shrieking down through the air before the tip sunk deep into the meaty little, white-furred rodent. It was not a clean strike, the tip puncturing through the boy's collar bone, piercing through a lung before lodging itself deep inside of his gut. Stunned, Brett stared wide-eyed at the grimy metal post as he felt his whole body lifted in the air, his arms and legs hanging limp at his side as he finally let out a pained screech from his little jaws. Toby casually carried the little asshole to the neck of the chiminea, the little things agonized cries growing to a fevered pitch as his form was shoved into the heart of the leaping flames, his fur flaring off in a rain of embers. Owing to his size, the little mouse's gurgling screams seemed to ebb as his throat seared from the scorching heat. With arms and legs shriveling and tucking up to the side of his blistered and scorched body, Toby licked his chops as he watched his 'marshmallow' toast.

All at once, the back yard erupted into a panic as nearly twenty little mice began to rush and run every which way, desperate for their lives after witnessing their frat president scorching to death over the fire. The few closest to the house climbed upon whatever they could, including each other, only to find the back door locked, terrified at the sight of choking smoke filling the kitchen as the toaster shot sparks from its slot. Others tried in vain to claw at the high-walled backyard, Tomek's privacy fence - put up so the neighbors wouldn't see when he brought home a cute porker to barbecue - proving far too tall even for someone of Toby's height to climb. In desperation, a few of the mice clawed at the dirt, hoping against hope that they might escape the psychotic tabby cat's ire. As one of them, a mottled brown mouse still clad in his swim trunks, managed to thrust their paw underneath the fencing. Motioning one of their frat brothers closer, they cried out in terrified happiness, while frantically digging with their other arm, only for a resounding "RUFF" to echo out across the yard.

The triumphant mouse gasped as he felt slobber drool down his paw. The neighbors, it seemed, had a dog. A great dane, to be exact. And the little barely-foot-tall mouse was perfectly chew-toy size. Powerful jaws chomped around his exposed hand, the horrified mouse screaming as he felt himself yanked hard against the fence. His shoulder dislocating, the dog's powerful strength began to pull the mouse underneath the fence, ripping him through the dirt like one would harvest a potato. In a vain attempt to stop his bro from disappearing, the nearest mouse managed to grab hold of his legs, only for his own pudgy little body to be shunted through the hole in one swift movement. As the sounds of barking and shredding flesh filled the air, Toby casually walked away from the chiminea, his stubby little muzzle opening wide before CHOMPing through the Mu Omicron Sigma president as if he were a marshmallow. Charred skin and brittle bones slipped off his warm and stringy flesh as he tugged at half of the meaty morsel, his upper half still twitching on the skewer as the predatory cat ate.

Making a show of swallowing, Toby put his paw to his muzzle, a bright whistle echoing out of his muzz before yelling. "Every vermin who's not already paste, you've got ten seconds to get your filthy paws in front of me." Standing by the makeshift beer pong table, Toby added, "If I have to hunt you down, I'll be practicing my biology 101 lessons on your sorry asses." It took a few moments, though Toby had plenty of time. After all, he had a 'marshmallow' to finish eating. As the sheepish remnants of the fraternity filed closer, Toby casually grabbed one of the ping pong balls off the table. Tossing it to one of the bolder mice, he pointed towards the filled cups. "Go on. Take a shot."

"Toby?" Walker's voice seemed to rise as the Tonkinese cat stepped out onto the rear porch. "Are you out here?"

"Toby!" Tomek's fatherly growl resonated from further away, deeper inside the house. "Why does the kitchen smell like aerosolized beer and burnt shoe leath- What the hell happened to my toaster?!"

Closing the door behind him, Walker nervously stepped out into the backyard to find his husband lazing in dad's old Adirondack chair. He seemed rather pleased with himself, the tiny, tinny, mouse-sized boombox blasting tunes at full volume. He seemed to be chowing down upon some sort of kabob, the skewered meat looking quite succulent from afar. Even after Tomek took him out to The 99 Restaurant, Walker was hungry for something that wasn't microwaved and mass produced. AS Toby chomped through a bite of the stringy flesh, the tabby cat gave a little flick of his tail as a wave to his husband. "Hey Hun," he said with his mouth full. "Took care of that problem for us."

It was only then that Walker saw it. Standing on the blistering hot edges of the chiminea, two whimpering little mice were in the process of slowly rotating a skewer-full of mice. Shoved ass-to-mouth along the length of the metal spit, the meaty rodents were already mostly cooked through. However, they were certainly not fully toasted, the ones on either end twitching and gurgling as they clung to life. The remaining two mice, one of whom appeared to be coffee-stained from the neck down, were doing their best not to scorch or fall in, their little paws blistered as they worked to help cook the last members of their fraternity.

"Wh- What the hell happened?" Walker blurted out, eyes wide as he stared at the carnage, the struggling, skewered mice and their two whimpering frat brothers too afraid to try and run from their work on the turnspit.

"Hmm? Oh, them?" Toby asked, a wicked grin crawling across his face. "I challenged them to a game of beer pong. Those two were the winners." Without skipping a beat, Toby casually motioned towards the succulent meal. "I know you already ate, but if you want a mouse kabob, there's one more!"

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