FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

“OH HELL NO LOUIS. I KNOW what happens when you play this song” Kevin laughs as I start playing Dragula by Rob Zombie.

“Shut up Kev, remember when we used race down highway six back in high school in your shitbox” I reminisce while I take the van to the speed limit.

“Yeah, I remember Louis back when you smoked gas like a chimney and refused to drink” Kevin retorts back.

“Hey, I barely drink these days” I grin as I pass a hearse.

“Barely drink what? A six pack of Natural Lite and a fifth of Bacardi a night? I know the only thing keeping you alive is that beer.” Keven laughs.

“Oh, shut it. I eat now.” I smile.

“Dude your pantry had four things in it: Oreos, jalapeño cheddar chips, canned beans, and Campbell’s chicken noodle soup” Kevin half-jokes.

“See no liquor, I’ve cut that our of my diet and I’ve got vegetables and raw meat in my fridge.” I say proud of my climb out of alcoholism.

“Dude, low key, I’m proud. That being said which female has caught your eye?” Kevin asks.

“None, I was just tired of spending so much on booze.” I say remembering the 2000 bill at Total Wine that started my sobering.

“Ladies still paying you no mind? And I can’t imagine the drinks you were buying were setting you back much” Kevin asks with a raised eyebrow.

I turn to with a very bored face. “Kev. Real talk. Am I around women enough to know what that’s like? And on my finances, of course it isn’t much to my paycheck but it was not a small tab ” I state.

Kevin has to fight back laughter. “Dude, I’ve been married since my senior year of college some eight years ago. I am having you drive a van to Ikea so I can buy a crib away from my pregnant wife’s mother’s tyranny. Do you think I *want* to be around women? I *wish* I was able to take in a craft beer inside the house” He jokes.

I fake a shiver “Ikea, it’s been many years since I’ve heard that name.” I joke.

Kevin laughs. “Bold shit from lil’ L and the Crib from Sweden.” He remarks harking back to college. “Anyway, there’s one of those Anthromarts on the opposite side of the parking lot if you don’t want to go into the world of meatballs and maze-like floor planning.”

I flip the signal to exit. “I think I might just take you up on that offer.” I say.

“fucking furry” Kevin laughs.

“As a certain congressman said: It is better to bust in the fur than to have the in law bust your balls” I smile mocking Rep. Mike James while I get onto Lincoln Avenue from the exit.

Kevin sharply inhales. “I would joke about you electing that weirdo if his competition wasn’t downright crazy.”

“Jani Moonknife?” I ask.

“I was thinking Ragnar Bloodtooth.” Kevin confirms.

“The guy who wanted to legalize private raids on other countries?” I ask for clarity.

“Yeah, the Dane Axe Party guy” Kevin clarifies.

“Got it.” I say focusing on the jackass in a lifted 2004 Camry LE.

Kevin notices my focus and remarks. “Remember when idiots like that drove ’93 Corollas?”

“Yeah. What the hell happened?” I ask still very focused.

“We got older; idiots stay the same.” Kevin states.

“True.” I agree.

The two of us continue to rock out to Dragula as I start winding through the endless number of twists and turns until eventually Bat Country by Avenge Sevenfold turns on and Kevin rolls down his window letting the crisp spring air fill the van while rocking out. Finally, the massive tower with IKEA comes into view and right beneath it is ANTHROMART with a yellow text ANTHRO and purple MART on a light green background. In the park between us and the supercenter, is a sizable protest of limp wristed men and obese women with signs of “BAN ANTHRO SLAVERY” and other such slogans while another group of people nearly entirely of men of a clearly higher value, stand nearby with Anthros who are clearly well kept. I can hear a few muffled distinct voices of particularly deep or high-pitched sorts.

Kevin has a grin creep across his face. “Dude, real talk, with how big your house is you should totally purchase some anthro servants for your place. Nobody comes over and you could have someone cook for you cause I *know* you work from seven-to-seven and survive off premade meals.” He suggests.

I ponder the idea. It would be nice to have someone to help around the house, but I have no idea of how much one costs. Both upfront and upkeep or what they like. “You know what Kev, I think I’m gonna check out that Anthromart place while you hide from your in-law’s flip-flops” I agree.

“Great, I really didn’t want to be seen in Ikea with a clean-shaven man, it’s a bad look.” Kevin sighs.

I roll my eyes as I approach the red light at the intersection that divides my van and the supercenter parking lot. “Bold of you assume I would ever want to set foot in an Ikea again with another person, remember Becky and her infatuation with those overly expensive lights?” I agree.

Kevin flinches remembering his ex. “Yeah I can understand after going through that.” He says.

I find a place to park near the center of the parking lot not a soul on either row in front or behind my van. With a quick fist bump the two of us begin walking towards our respective store.

Kevin calls back “Oh. I’ll call you at lunchtime, my treat at Chili’s”.

I raise a raised thumbs up. “Got it dude.” I return.

Now that you get a good look at the Anthromart storefront it is a truly imposing building; the façade is that of a Romanesque in stone. Rather than standard automatic doors they have two massive metal doors at least three feet thick from what I can see. On the balconies stand clearly armed guards and there is a helipad with a parked custom VTOL on top. As I get closer there’s a café built into the side of the building where some anthros are serving and cooking the food, while there’s a gated exterior area where other anthros tend to a massive multi-story greenhouse with a beautiful outdoor flower garden.

As I approach the gates a guard equipped in full medieval armor stops me. “Sorry sir, I need some ID so we can make sure you are up to corporate policy on customer requirements.” He says in a low deep voice.

I take out my wallet and hand him my license and he scans it with a device. “Sorry it takes a minute to process.” He says raising the visor on his helmet.

“I must ask, do you always have to wear that armor?” I ask with a raised eyebrow.

The man shrugs. “I don’t *have* to but ever since one of our guards at the Berryville store got stabbed by one of those protestor types it has been strongly recommended. Personally, I like the added security it offers me, that and people are far less likely me to test me.” He explains.

“That’s really cool, it also meshes well with the whole vibe of the storefront too.” I compliment.

“Thanks sir.” He now smiling says before checking the scanner again. “Looks like you’re all clear sir, please proceed to the next checkpoint where we have psyche evaluations, before you ask the government pays us to run these.”

“Thanks sir.” I says as I enter the courtyard, the girls in the garden area stare at me and whisper among each other as I pass.

“Over here sir.” Another armored man calls, this one and his partner both have FN FALs with wooden furniture.

“Come with us to Psyche” The other of the two says.

I nod and walk quickly over to the pair. “Follow us sir.” The one with the red plumed helmet says.

The hallway is solid stone, lit up by a gorgeous hallway spanning stained glass piece with integrated lighting. The supporting pillars are ornately carved with scenes from American history, Washington crossing the Delaware, The First Battle of Manassas, Neil Armstrong setting the first foot on the moon. The cost of this hallway alone probably costs more than most towns in this state I think to myself as I look at the marble statues of Anthros and Men that line the hallway’s doors.

“Well sir how do you like the building so far? We all here take a bit of pride in making sure it looks good.” The one in the full-face mask asks.

“I like it a fair bit, I initially thought it was just a façade.” I answer as I follow the two down the stone hallways.

The one with the plume speaks. “Most people think that at first but, in reality this building is fully constructed out of stone, wood, and the needed fasteners. I would know, I helped build it. The stone was quarried near San Antonio, the wood is from Oregon, and all the fasteners were made in America with American materials. It’s part of the reason I still work for SmileCorp.” He beams.

“Dude you just geeked out about your freaking workplace.” The faceless one states, clearly concerned.

I decide to say my peace too. “Well, I thought it was interesting, I’m an architect too working on the Juniper Grove apartment complex over in Bennington.” I say.

“Off the books sir, those apartments are hideous.” The masked one says.

“I KNOW, but that’s the look Xiang Holdings wants and that’s the one they’ll get with the paychecks they’re writing me.” I say getting excited.

“Xiang holdings? Is that the Commie one or the Taiwanese one?” The plumed one asks.

“Taiwanese to be sure, given that I’ve been flown into Taipei to tell the marketing to stop including impossible structures in his fucking promo renders.” I clarify.

“Well, we’re here” says the masked fellow “But it would seem the fed boys aren’t” he announces annoyed.

“Its cool, I’m really here just to check this place out.” I say trying to sound cool.

“Speaking of Juniper Grove, I hate those foreign land developers. Makes me happy to see the Dane Axe, Ouija Board Autocrat, and Barbeque Burnt Ends Fanatic parties are all united against the blue and red retards in stopping outside companies from owning land.” The masked guard says.

“How does SmileCorp even afford buildings like this?” I ask desperately curious.

The men look at each other and laugh. “SmileCorp is first and foremost a Private Military Contractor. We train, we recruit, and we have a million American men deployed worldwide at any given moment, with another two hundred thousand working guard shifts at stores or contracted out to all sorts of places withing the country. There as many men under SmileCorp’s as there is under the Stars and Stripes.” The Plumed one explains.

“Seriously? SmileCorp is that big?” I ask shocked.

“With all of our expansion, we’ve got the same about of money coming in as the U.S Military does from taxes, and remember we make it from other people outside this God forsaken country, 700 billion dollars alone from the PMC, another 200 billion from manufacturing in the Midwest and along the Gulf Coast, 100 billion from entertainment, and a handful of hundred-million-dollar revenues from other enterprises.” The masked fellow explains.

I stare wide eyed at the fellow. “How the hell do you know all that?” I ask.

The man gets a smug aura about him even though I can’t see his face. “I’m trying to change my job title from Veteran to Finance Director.” He beams.

I turn to the plumed guard. “And what about yourself?” I ask him.

“Oh, I’m no longer part of the soldiery, I’m just a guard here as the place where my job will be is still being built, I am going to be a dock manager at the Edenton Supply Basin in North Carolina.” He explains.

“How in the hell?” I stammer.

The two men just shrug. Perfect is all my mind can say. How in the seven hells did a company get that fucking big? I ponder.

“Hey, sir, what’s your name, you seem pretty cool and I’d just like a name for the face?” Asks the plumed one.

“I’m Louis, Louis Waters, and you two are?” I answer and ask.

“I’m Jack Rodriguez” The plumed one says.

“And I’m Fred Quincy” The masked one states.

“Say you’ve got FALs, is there a reason you got wood furniture on ‘em?” I ask.

“These guns aren’t used on actual battlegrounds anymore, so we issue them to battalions that are guarding or helping quell unrest. Real popular in Europe because they ain’t them “scary assault rifles” when in reality these puppies can start popping full auto.” Jack explains.

“Really?” Fred questions.

“Yeah, what you’d hear?” Jack asks.

“I heard it’s because the six-point-fivers issued to the frontliners are more rugged while the FALs can’t handle the same abuse.” Fred explains.

“Wild” I say.

“It really is” Fred responds.

“You can say that again.” Jack follows up.

Suddenly the door swings open and a spinster looking middle aged woman stands there. “Sorry, we had a group of priority customers come in and proceed to fail the psyche evaluations. So come on in, get comfortable, and answer truthfully.” She gripes.

“We’ll be right out here Jan, if you need us just call, though I doubt you’ll need it with this guy” Jack says with a smile.

“While I trust your opinion on people Jack, your opinion isn’t a legal document. That being said I would barely have to work if it was.” She jokes.

Fred chuckles. “Alright Louis, get in there, it’ll be a breeze for you.” He says.

“Thanks Fred, thanks Jack.” I say before Jan closes the thick metal door. Her office is sizable with a small kitchen in one end, a small lab’s worth of computers and file cabinets to the ceiling that wrapped around the two long walls of the room. In the center of the room were two chairs and a table. Jan then goes to her computers grabs a clipboard and returns to you.

“Alright mister, please sign here. Initial there, there, there, and there, sign again here and here and then date the bottom.” She says pointing at each spot with a pen which she then leaves at the top of the clipboard and gives it to me.

“Thanks.” I say before doing as she says and handing it back to her.

“Wonderful.” She says with relief. “now let’s move on to the examination.” She grins.

The exam itself was a bit odd, it was looking at ink drop cards and saying what you saw in them, a quick questionnaire on reactions to certain stimuli, and a stranger conversation. After all that she marked down a sort of form and then scanned a small mountain of paperwork into computer. We then waited in awkward silence as she cursed at the computer and internet speed before threatening, to quote “rip the skin of that snow-skinned bastard” if he’s trying to stream 8k video again.

After a while she gets a result and turns to you from her spinning chair. “Well sir you have pretty typical patterns for a man in his late 20’s, though you do seem to be a former alcoholic. All is good, no signs of the things we don’t want in would-be purchasers.” She says seemingly bored.

“I take it that that’s a good thing?” I ask.

“Yep.” She says getting up and opening the door opposite to the one I came in through, now go to fiscal screening, don’t worry it’s really easy.” She says hurrying me out the door.

“Okay then” I say to myself as I walk down another ornate hallway. Seriously how the hell did they get these things made?

“Over here sir.” Calls a man at a sort of counter.

I hurry over to it to find a rather cubby man sitting lazily in a leather chair. Behind him is a half-wall that hides my view of some sort of massive space that’s bustling with sound and movement from the sounds you can hear. The wall is made of wood and has patterns etched into it with what seems to be bronze inlays along the borders. Seriously the level of craftsmanship in this place is absurd.

“Sir, can you please provide me with your company’s name?” He asks with a raspy tone.

“Xiang Holdings.” I answer quickly and clearly.

“Xiang? X-I-ANG? And your name.”

“Yes X-I-ANG, and Louis Waters.” I clarify.

“Are you the lead Architect of the Juniper Grove project?” He asks.

“Yes.” I answer.

“I need some I.D and a bank statement, if you don’t have one with you, you can pull up your E-Banking and that can be done in place of a physical statement.” He says still rasping.

I pull out my wallet and sign into my Bank of America account on my phone. “Here, my license and Bank of America account.” I say.

The man looks it over, seemingly content he hands everything back to me. “All good and remember to renew your license next month” He says. “Also, Juniper Grove is low-key hideous.”

I can feel my eye twitch as he says that. “Thank you, and I know, I don’t have a say over the overall scheme.” I say trying to clear my name.

“Okay, and you’re done with processing, welcome to Anthromart.” He says signaling you to pass his counter.