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Today's appropriate Mason fan art is provided by kensukethecat - thank you, ken!

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Hehhey, and welcome to the Hockey Hunk!

I hope you'll have a fun read, and hopefully you'll comment, too - all the feedback is always appreciated, and as always, remember that votes, faves and watches will help others to find these stories to enjoy as well!

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"I think this is a travesty."

My tail coiled itself out of the way as I slowly pivoted on my paws, presenting my side for the room as I faced the small cougar woman standing in front of me. I held my paws steady as I braced for the onslaught.

"What is it, Marge?"

Marge was stroking her chin viciously as she observed the table located behind the counter, the one that was usually covered in stacks of cardboard boxes, rolls of tape and color strings, as well as the various colorful materials that all together formed our infamous free gift-wrapping service.

The cougar's tailtip twitched.

"I think this is a terrible mess and we'll never get anything done right if it's in such a mess," Marge said, "as an assistant floor manager and the soon to be senior floor manager, you'd think that you would spend some time to make all this neat and orderly. How are we supposed to give a swift service if you...if you..."

She smacked her paw against the wrapping table, causing things to clatter on the steel-framed shelves above.

"...if you have to spend time looking for, say, the scissors..." her paw swept over the table, sending a few errand coils of ribbons down onto the floor.

I took a deep breath and pulled open a drawer on the base of the table, and produced a pair of orange-handled scissors.

"Here," I uttered in my most patient voice, "they're where you put them after you decided that the scissors are a potential workplace health hazard and then you put them out of the way here so that nobody will accidentally get one's paw cut if they're searching for something on the table and happen to find a pair of dangerous scissors instead."

Marge gave the scissors and ugly stare and then gave a sharp nod.

"Well put them back there or they'll be lost the moment I turn my back!"

I placed the scissors dutifully into the drawer, closed it ceremoniously, and remained in my posture, waiting for further commands from my dominatrix.

"Something should be done about the mess," Marge kept rubbing her chin. "And quickly..."

"I'm sure we'll figure something out," I replied, trying to muster a smile. The corners of my muzzle felt heavy today, the normal happyhappy reserves exhausted after a few hours of a bad-tempered Marge as well as a couple of bad-tempered customers. I wasn't very well charged to begin with, either, not after a breakfast of cereal and coffee while exchanging mutually apologetic looks across the dining table with Peter.

Damn. Seems that the cougars were causing me grief en masse today. Peter's moody plead against feeling too dependant on me combined with Marge's mother-induced crankiness was really a drain on me. Last night's passive aggressive argument had left me feeling bad enough, but when you added to that the fact that as soon as I logged onto Facebook, a slightly furious and a whole lot embarrassed Victor had pounced me and produced a series of apologies over his brother's book shopping, complete with promises to send the Dobie brother to Chicago on the next departing train, or possibly as a FedEx package, if everything else failed.

I had barely snuffled even for that idea. It had been hard enough for me, all of yesterday, to see everyone else in a bad mood wasn't doing me good either. Going back to Peter's tonight was probably going to be not too cheerful either, considering that I was expected to pack my bags and leave. I suppose I could understand him but...really...I just felt bad. Not sorry...not that. I'd gone through that and learned that it did nothing good. Being sorry was not a constructive activity. It didn't make anyone feel better, especially not myself.

"...if everyone just put things back to their right places after using them..." Marge muttered under her sharply trilling breath.

"...and you may pay on either register..."

_ _

My ears registered Crystal's voice, prompting action from me. I turned to face my register and flashed a big smile at the mare and her current client, a German Shepherd woman with a stack of books in her paws.

"I'll be right with you!"

She seemed happy enough as I scanned her books, bagged them, received the meager payment for my effort, and then slipped the Summer Sale voucher into the red carrier bag before I wished her a nice day and she disappeared through the door. I quietly congratulated myself on another customer transaction well done, just as I heard the click of a tongue.

"Well, well, Rory," Marge began.

I tensed. Here we go again...

"Yes?" I looked over to her and saw that she was staring at me pointedly.

"You spent over ten seconds picking up the bag for that lady," Marge stated, "that was a pretty long time to wait while she was holding her card in her paw..."

For the love of...

"Well, I was starting to take out the extra thin small medium, but I realized that I was going to need a standard medium because those books were of the heavier sort and it'd be easier and safer to put them on a standard medium without making it difficult to carry," I explained, "the bags were stuck on each other, too, so I had to tear away that bag before I could start putting the books into it."

"I did see what you were doing alright," Marge retorted, "and what about ergonomics? You bending over like that to get the bag, with your recovering hip and all...what about me, when I'm going to be heavily pregnant, how am I going to get them comfortable from under the counter?"

"They've always been there," I replied, "We've never had any problems with the bags, because you only have to bend over a little to get to them. "

"Well it is different for able-bodied furs, but how about those of us with special needs?"

I looked at Marge and decided that neither of us, she or me, were really in the need of any special need assistance at works, at least not now that I was able to walk about freely, and Marge was still a normal-sized cougar whose biggest problem with the carrier bag selection would be to stop her boobs from bursting out of her low-cut shirt. Sometimes I got the feeling that she was slacking in that effort deliberately.

Call that a hunch.

"We could always install new kind of holders for the bags so that they are hanging instead of stacked in their boxes like they're now," I replied.

Marge didn't look impressed.

"But that would mean we'd need to remodel the sales counter and we might not be able to stock as many different sizes of bags here," she pointed at the underside of the counter, "We can't afford such a reduction in the quality of service."

"The less often used sizes could still be on their boxes on the bottom," I replied, "or we could store them under the wrapping table."

Marge's ears jumped.

"Meaning that they'd be even MORE difficult to reach then!" Marge yelped.

"I think Rory's right, Marge," Crystal chirped, looking us both now from her taller vantage point. "I think we could do that, if you want to make it a bit easier to reach the bags."

"Forget the bags," Marge breathed out dramatically, "there are bigger issues at paw here, such as the deplorable state of this wrapping table, and the back room..."

"What's wrong with the back room now?" I asked.

"It's a mess," Marge replied with conviction, "even worse than this table."

"I thought it was alright," I replied. "The storage room, I mean. Mason and I put everything onto place when the shipment came in yesterday."

"So what about the massive stack of empty cardboard boxes you left in your wake?" Marge accused.

"We cleared them to the side, like we always do, so that the charity kitchen can fetch them at the end of the week like they always do to put the feed aid in them," I said, "just like we always do it."

"It still looks messy back there," Marge nagged. "It gives the wrong impression."

"Nobody's going to see it, Marge," I held my ground gently, "staff only, remember?"

"It's still probably a fire hazard," the cougar retaliated. "Might get into trouble with the fire department..."

"We've passed the inspection, haven't we?" I stated. "We wouldn't be allowed to keep the store open if we didn't comply."

"And wasn't it only in January when we had that nice firefur show us how to use the fire extinguisher?" Crystal commented, smiling cheerfully at the memory.

Well, why not?

"Mason didn't," Marge declared, her eyes lighting up suddenly, "he didn't work here yet."

"I'm sure he knows how to use one," I replied calmly, even if my patience was slowly waning.

"He's a man, of course he does," Crystal nickered.

Marge's eyes widened.

"MAN!" her teeth were bared in a hiss that probably roused the ears of the customers all the way at the back of the store, browsing the coffee table book section there. "Don't talk to me about men."

"I'm a man," I mumbled.

Marge gave me an ugly look and folded her arms over her bosom.

"Men," she grunted disapprovingly.

I pouted.

"What did we do now?" I said, expressive my collective guilt over my possession of a pair of balls.

Marge looked excessively displeased as her tail flicked about sharply. Crystal leaned in closer, her big eyes full of curiosity that was starting to make my neck crawl. I wondered whether I had screwed up again, and that it wasn't just related to my slowness in picking the right size of a carrier bag, but that I had committed an even worse a sin with my action, or my dick.

"Well, for starters, got caught smoking on the balcony by your pregnant girlfriend's nosy mother?" she muttered.

Well that explained the man-hate bit, then, I decided dully, though with a hint of relief as I realized that I was not the only representative of the man-folk that was giving Marge some pain in the ass...or making her a pain, whatever the more appropriate term.

"I only heard the part about her complaining about having to sleep on the couch and her displeasure on the numerous pictures of naked furs on your walls, courtesies of your boyfriend's artistic habits," I replied, reciting the gist of Marge's earlier tongue-lashing in the coffee corner.

Crystal neighed.

"But I thought Goggy had quit!" she oooooh'ed.

Marge snorted.

"Relapse," the cougar winced. "He found an opened pack lying around and couldn't resist the temptation, he said...before I sent him to sleep on the couch and took my mother in to the bed..."

Well, well...wonder if they watched The Golden Girls together or something during their impromptu mother-daughter slumber party...

"Oh, no..." Crystal shook her head.

"My mother tossed and turned all night," Marge said, "even worse than Goggy staying up all night painting..."

"How unpleasant," I mused.

"Hush, man," Marge snuffled.

I let my ears flop.

"Can't please you all," I rumbled, "nine out of ten, maybe..."

Ouch, Rory. Really? Throw in a smile that looks like you just licked pussy or something.

There you go!

"Oh, Jesus," Marge made a dramatic face, "I think I'm going to be sick..."

"Awwwww, is it the morning sickness again?" Crystal sounded compassionate.

Marge yawned.

"No," she wrinkled her nose, "much worse than the estrogen breaking havoc in my system, no, much, much worse...the sweet, ugly stench of testosterone oozing out of every single pore..."

"They're not all that bad, Marge," Crystal nickered cheerfully.

I gave her a smirk.

"We definitely aren't," I mused.

"Rebellion," Marge huffed. "A coup..."

"The Great Carrier Bag Insurrection of 2011..." Crystal giggled.

"We better hurry up and recruit Mason before he joins Marge's troops," I quipped.

"You're insane," Marge rolled her eyes.

"You could take a break, Marge," Crystal fluttered her eyes, "We can take care of things here if you go and take a little breather..."

"And leave this massive mess here?" Marge sniffed while she pointed at the wrapping table again, "Really?"

"Well we've got customers to serve," I said expansively, "and cleaning this might take a while..."

"So you'll do it in the morning tomorrow before opening time," Marge declared. "And make sure not to leave it in an even worse a state than before!"

"Yes, ma'am," I rumbled in defeat.

"Good," Marge stated. "Then you can go and check up on Mason. He was supposed to come up here to relief me on the counter after unpacking today's delivery but he hasn't been seen yet. Go and see what he's doing."

Well, anything other than being here being bad-mouthed and told down for being a dude...hmm...

"Yes, boss," I replied as I moved past her.

"Crystal, number two, please!" Marge decreed.

We traded places, in a way, indeed, Crystal taking my spot behind the cash register while I slinked past and made my slow trample through the shop, down the stairs, and then through the "STAFF ONLY" door. The cool air felt nice, considering the blistering temperatures outside, not to mention the brimstone of a cougar that was Marge now...nice and quiet here, I decided. I almost purred for that feeling, enjoying the stretching of my paws and the peace. That was nice. Maybe Peter would feel better, too. A proper chat and a good meal...that'd probably help him a lot. Make things easier when I would really have to leave at the end of the week. Didn't see how I would placate him otherwise...not really...

My paws stomped onto the concrete and I stood on the lookout for any signs of errand frat wolves among the shelves. Not a single bushy tail was in sight yet, let alone hoodies with metal band logos on them...all sure signs of Mason, of course. It wasn't that big of a storage room, either.

I sauntered off into the fact section, lined with shelves, seeing, ostensibly that they were in order, which I could've been doing anyway, and it never hurt to look like you were doing something important. Maybe I could've done this all day. Just walking around and whistling to myself and maybe re-adjusting the odd book that was out of order. Excellent. Maybe I should work in a library instead.

"...I know..."

My ears perked. That sounded like a certain wolfy kind of a fur...perhaps...I peeked above the tops of the books on the shelf to see behind them, but didn't see anything...hmmm...not there...I tried to listen carefully...

"...yeah, talk about it, man..."

_ _

His voice was a soft rumble, slightly reminding me of how he sounded like when he was singing...back then in that karaoke bar before all hell broke loose...obviously husked and whispery now, trying to keep it down...and making me even more curious a cat...oh yes...tail low, ears flicking about in search of him...quietly creeping along the aisle...

"...no, what do you mean, whether I got that vibe or not..."

_ _

Another little cat-step...I was pretty sure it was coming from somewhere to my left...near the far wall...

"...oh, right...well I don't know...dude, I don't know about that kind of stuff, not really..."

_ _

I heard a rumble and a snuffle, followed by a chuckle. It echoed off the wall. Definitely near the wall...hmm...I took a step closer and peeked again, but couldn't see anything at eye level. Odd. Was I still too far away?

"...oh stop..."

_ _

Another manly snicker. Oh my...seemed that my young co-worker was having a really funny conversation indeed.

"...no I don't know...no, I'm not sure...I know there've been rumors but...you know, you never know..."

_ _

What...

"...but really, I never thought he was gay too, dude...wonder if anyone else knows here..."

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Thank you for reading my story!

Hope you had a fun read, and I do hope that you'll now feel like commenting! All authors love feedback, and I am always curious to hear your thoughts! Also remember that all votes, faves and watches will help others to find these stories to enjoy as well.

See you on Friday!