# A writing challenge for ALL of us!  (All writing skill levels welcome)



## SoL-JoS (Jun 4, 2019)

I was editing my newest story as I logged into FA today and something occurred to me...

What if we all came together and wrote a story one paragraph at a time?

Please keep it SFW to be respectful to the rest of the community.

Let's go!

- - - - - - -

The sun blazed overhead and a weak breeze ruffled through the young mouse's sandy-blonde hair as he trudged determinedly through the dense undergrowth.  The abandoned trail he'd discovered after searching on the internet for a new place to explore was a bit more difficult than most of the journeys he’d enjoyed in the past three years since he had joined college.  The path wrapped around a mountainous hill that was overgrown with briars and somewhat treacherous where the weather had created hidden drop-offs.  He even spied a snake that he knew to be venomous.  No matter how many nettles stuck to his jeans or how many dangerous creatures he encountered, however, his appreciation for the beautiful splendor that nature offered overrode any feelings of discomfort or danger.


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## LadySajani (Jun 4, 2019)

I'll give it a go a little later. Too many errands right now.


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## SoL-JoS (Jun 4, 2019)

LadySajani said:


> I'll give it a go a little later. Too many errands right now.


Well that was a disappointing start


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## AbleFur (Jun 4, 2019)

SoL-JoS said:


> The sun blazed overhead and a weak breeze ruffled through the young mouse's sandy-blonde hair as he trudged determinedly through the dense undergrowth.  The abandoned trail he'd discovered after searching on the internet for a new place to explore was a bit more difficult than most of the journeys he’d enjoyed in the past three years since he had joined college.  The path wrapped around a mountainous hill that was overgrown with briars and somewhat treacherous where the weather had created hidden drop-offs.  He even spied a snake that he knew to be venomous.  No matter how many nettles stuck to his jeans or how many dangerous creatures he encountered, however, his appreciation for the beautiful splendor that nature offered overrode any feelings of discomfort or danger.


In his hand he grasped a weathered walking stick. Its smooth wood had been worn into a textured system of microscopic canyons and mesas by the many claws that had clutched it before. It had belonged to the mouse's father, and to his father before that. The fury of wanderlust ran in the mouse's veins. What lay beyond the next hill? What glen behind this creek? These thoughts swayed his mind, even when he was away from the wilderness. And on the trail now he went, pressing stick into the sun-baked earth again and again as he eagerly propelled himself down the derelict path, paying more mind to the earth and the heat from the sun and the rustle in the foliage than to the voice that suddenly said, "Hey! Mouse-boy!"


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## LadySajani (Jun 4, 2019)

Belthar gripped his walking stick tightly. Not her again. Was there no way to get rid of her?
"Whatcha running from, little mousey?" Genhala smiled at him, showing off her sharp feline teeth. "Thought leaving class five minutes early would make it so we couldn't find you?"
No, he hoped that leaving five minutes early would be just out of the norm enough that'd it'd slow them down. 

More than a paragraph, but they were short.


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## larigot (Jun 5, 2019)

LadySajani said:


> Belthar gripped his walking stick tightly. Not her again. Was there no way to get rid of her?
> "Whatcha running from, little mousey?" Genhala smiled at him, showing off her sharp feline teeth. "Thought leaving class five minutes early would make it so we couldn't find you?"
> No, he hoped that leaving five minutes early would be just out of the norm enough that'd it'd slow them down.
> 
> More than a paragraph, but they were short.



Genhala's cronies appeared by her side; the languid simian and his impetuous canine friend. Belthar figured that the latter had sniffed him out. Genhala's bearing and appearance - tall and dressed in colourful atire - ensured that Belthar remembered her name in the brief time that he'd been following his current course, but the names of her companions slipped his mind. Out of those who fawned over Genhala, they seemed the least impressive. 
"Are you stalking me?" Belthar asked the trio.


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## arctophily (Jun 5, 2019)

"I wouldn't call it stalking if it's deserved," said Genhala, looking over her claws with a flippant -- and well-practiced -- grin. The two others sniggered in response. "Besides, who's going to be here to make sure the dean's son doesn't get into trouble? Especially when nobody's _really _sure about what you get up to out here."


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## larigot (Jun 7, 2019)

"I'm flattered you're so concerned about me... in fact, the dean will be happy to hear it," Belthar said, and he continued onwards - his eyes avoiding those of the intrusive trio. 
Before he could pass them, Genhala's arm shot out in front of him, giving her canine henchman time to block his way.


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## SoL-JoS (Jun 7, 2019)

"Where ya think you're going, mousie boy?"  He spat venomously.  Belthar sighed plainly and stepped to the left to avoid him, but was quickly intercepted and shoved rudely by the scowling monkey.  By reflex alone, the mouse caught himself with his walking stick and growled angrily at his attacker.


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## Simo (Jun 9, 2019)

It was fortunate at the time that a skunk, sleeping in the bushes, awoke due to the commotion. He peeped out, and saw the two canines, harassing the mouse: Dogs, he thought to himself. Always nosing about being such a growly 'ol menace. He emerged from the bush, lifted his tail, and without so much as a stomping of the feet or a hiss as a warning, sprayed them squarely in the face, watching them fall back, reeling, and rolling about on the path. Then he noted the monkey, as well, and gave him a nice blast. "Why don't you go back to zoo, or join the circus, ya mean 'ol monkey! You beat it, before I shove a banana up yer butt", and he turned to the mouse."Hey Mouse...run! Why's everyone after ya? They'll be out for a good long while, but ya better get movin'. Them girls that are after are just plain no good. Trouble, I say. Girls always have been", and he gave a little smile, and a laugh, and retreated to the underbrush, just his nose and eyes looking out.


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## larigot (Jun 10, 2019)

"What the hell?" Belthar quietly said to himself.  With a tilted head and a cocked eyebrow he surveyed the mayham that the skunk had wrought. He looked at the bush that the skunk had faded into and hesitantly walked over. 
"Hey, um, thanks, I guess," he said, crouching down. 
"Yeah yeah, can't abide trouble in my neighborhood. You should run off now... Wait, how did ya'll find this place?"
"I found it on the internet. The others followed me."
"Internet? What's an internet? How does it know where I live?" the skunk asked rapidly, his nose bristling. 
Belthar wasn't sure if the skunk was being serious, but his gut told him he was._ Dad warned me never to talk to crazy hermits_, he thought.


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## Sir Thaikard (Jun 11, 2019)

Dad also had a corkboard in the basement, complete with low-res printed pictures from Google images that were loosely connected by trails of red string and unreadable Sharpie messages. Something about geese, Dad was always convinced that the geese were out to get him.

Then Dad discovered himself, left Mom, and had a gay wedding with the beaver from next door the following year. So was Dad really the best source of advice?

"My Mother always told me to repay a favour and you have clearly done me a great service, let me take you out to lunch. I know a great place." Belthar extended his paw with a confidence he didn't have.


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## Simo (Jun 11, 2019)

Simo extended his own paw in greeting. "Lunch? Well, sure, why not. Got no plans today. What'd ya have in mind?" And, truth be told, the skunk seldom really made plans, things just happened as they did. But more and more, noise-some interlopers seemed to traipse up and disturb his peace, yakking into their walkie-talkies or tapping away at them, stumbling along like zombies, oblivious to their surroundings. Why even _take_ walks, he pondered? 

He'd soon be moving on from such commotion, but before he did, the skunk figured he might as well get to know the mouse a bit; perhaps he could better warn him about the vacuity and pratfalls of the modern age.


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## larigot (Jun 13, 2019)

It was an hour later when they finally reached the town, leaving the mountain path and Belthars harassers - last seen passed out from the skunks vile fumes - behind them. While they traveled, Belthar initially fretted the consequences of these past events, but once he got to talking with Simo, as he learned the skunk's name was, he forgot his troubles due to the skunk's fascinating mindset. They discussed many things, in fact, Belthar would start a topic and Simo instantly had an unorhodox opinion about it; real music is vocals without instruments, education made you dummer, pineapple is great on pizza.


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## SoL-JoS (Jun 16, 2019)

Holy fuck I give up on this.  It's turned into a complete troll-fest ever since grandpa skunk joined the fray.

Also fuck you because pineapple is GREAT on pizza


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## larigot (Jun 17, 2019)

If you don't like the way the story is going, steer it in a different direction (i.e. kill off the skunk)


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## LadySajani (Jun 17, 2019)

I actually have seen a round robin story get published. It was a closed writing group and it was awesome. "That's Not Kosher" by Norman L. Quincy (the group was called NLQ for Near Letter Quality and that should date me pretty heavily). It appeared in The Leading Edge Magazine Issue #18.

Being the internet, where you read stories about the British ship named Boaty McBoatface (Google it if you haven't heard of it), it's going to go south periodically. I agree with @larigot: if you don't like the direction, change it.


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## Simo (Jun 17, 2019)

Golly, Mr. Cheetah, I'm sorry! I just wrote what came to mind, and in character. I didn't mean to be no troll...and I ain't never lived under a bridge! :v

But if it's not going where ya would like, maybe start again? I just noted it was stalling out, and thought I'd try to get things rolling. Sorry I made ya cranky, there.


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## larigot (Jun 18, 2019)

Before we start anew, this story needs a satisfying conclusion.

Belthar awoke with a start. He sat up straight and recalled the last thing he remembered from his lurid dream. _Pinapple on pizza? What horror... _he tought. A sound was heard remote, so he pitched his ear. _Is that a plane?
_
Moments later Belthar's house was engulfed in flames as the cessna crashed into it, spewing balls of fire in all directions. 

Simo respawned at a nearby hospital, 500 dollars lighter. He ambled around on the street, spraying random passerbyes and wondering what to do now. There wasn't much more to do in this sandbox - he'd had his fun, but it was time to move on. He logged off.


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## SoL-JoS (Jun 18, 2019)

larigot said:


> Before we start anew, this story needs a satisfying conclusion.
> 
> Belthar awoke with a start. He sat up straight and recalled the last thing he remembered from his lurid dream. _Pinapple on pizza? What horror... _he tought. A sound was heard remote, so he pitched his ear. _Is that a plane?
> _
> ...


Nice.


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## Simo (Jun 19, 2019)

Well! Now I'm gonna start a story called: *The Crabby Cheetah *


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## I don't eat USBs (Jun 19, 2019)

This looks really interesting. If this is still going on, mind if I join in?


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## SoL-JoS (Jun 19, 2019)

I don't eat USBs said:


> This looks really interesting. If this is still going on, mind if I join in?


We might need to start over XD


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## I don't eat USBs (Jun 19, 2019)

SoL-JoS said:


> We might need to start over XD


Ah. Alrighty then.


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## Sir Thaikard (Jul 11, 2019)

I SHALL ATTEMPT TO RESURRECT THIS.

"I need new jobs, maybe some new shoes. Definitely some new shoes." The Crabby Cheetah looked down at the fresh mess caused by the body that slipped out of his arms. Splayed across the tile floor the corpse almost looked comical, except for that the Crabby Cheetah would need new socks if the body kept leaking as fast as it did.

It made sense in theory, being a janitor for a generic corporation by day meant no one batted an eye at the smells and stains on his uniform. And being a janitor for the mob at night meant that he had access to all the tools and chemicals he needed thanks to his day job.

Also working for the mob meant that he could actually pay bills on time and treat himself once in a while.

But now he had a different problem. And as his eyes adjusted to the darkness he quietly swore.


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## SoL-JoS (Jul 12, 2019)

"Ya done the job, huh?"  A deep voice rumbled from across the hall.  Rhythmic clicks echoed from the lion's shoes as he carelessly approached his spotted associate with his lanky tail waving slowly behind him.  He momentarily wrinkled his muzzle at the scene, then stared at the cheetah with a bemused smirk.  "Well?  You gonna get rid of the body or should I get the boss to hire another cleaner to get rid of yours too?"

The cheetah swallowed the lump in his throat and shook his head vigorously, then growled quietly as his inattentiveness cost him another pair of socks.  "Just let me do my job."  He snarled as he glanced around the hallway.  "What are you even doing here, Dick?"

"It's Richard."  The lion responded with a snarl of his own.  "And the boss told me to check up on you.  He said you take too long."  The cheetah rolled his eyes and huffed in irritation.  His socks were completely ruined by now.  He squished his way to the hall closet, leaving a trail of bloody sock prints behind him, and grabbed a mop and a bucket, then began mixing several chemicals together haphazardly.

"You want a job done quick or a job done right?"  He sneered icily.  "Now get the hell outta my way, _Dick._"


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## larigot (Jul 12, 2019)

He could feel Richard's eyes on him; it made his fur stand on end. "Be very careful, janitah. I'll give ya another" - the cheetah heard him fetch something from his pocket -"lessee... ten minutes."

The lion walked off, his oxfords loudly making themselves known in the echoey hall. The cheetah shook his head and mumbled a curse. Cleaning gear in hand, he returned to the poor sod that was the latest victim of his nefarious night-time employer. The body was that of former associate Tony ‘The Tall’, a weasel half his size. The cheetah did not know why Tony was lured here and terminated with such extreme prejudice, but he was certain the phrase “not weaselling out of this one” was used tonight.

He removed his own bloody socks and tossed them besides Tony. Before he’d dump the body in the cleaning vehicle and burn any connection he had to the crime, he wanted to check out the room where the deed was done, to make sure it was completely spic and span.


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## Sir Thaikard (Jul 15, 2019)

"10 minutes my ass. The solution won't even boil in 10 minutes you cretin." He unceremoniously dumped Tony into the barrel and cautiously began adding the final bag of lye. But not before stripping Tony completely naked.

'Time for my "bonus", hehe." It was his own little joke, nearly all of the victims had valuables on them, or at least, a decent amount of cash. It was probably pocket change to a higher ranking member like Richard, but for the Cheetah it might has well been another payday. "Le'see here... Aha!" He triumphantly fished out a silver pocketwatch, followed by a roll of bills conveniently tucked away in a rolled up cuff. 

"I guess this will make due..."

"You got some kind of a uh, fetish or something?" Shit.

He didn't even have to turn around, he could already feel Richard's glare beating down.


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## Simo (Jul 17, 2019)

Chief Detective Skunk sat with his foot-paws up on the desk, a fan stirring the stale air, shuffling through a pile of papers and staring at a flickering computer monitor. He poured a slug of Bourbon from a bottle in his desk drawer into a paper cup, then washed it down with some lukewarm water. Couldn't the department at least afford AC? A decent computer? A water cooler that cooled?

The phone rang, and he picked it up on the first ring.

"Sunk here. Oh, Fiona. How's tricks? Any news?" Fiona Fox had dug up more dirt in two years as a field detective than half the department, and the Skunk respected her even more than Commissioner Cobra. She'd helped him through more jams than anyone.

"Yeah, I got some _very_ interesting news. You know that one we call 'The Crabby Cheetah'? Well, Looks like he's gonna have _even more_ reasons to be crabby, real soon. Started out with seeing stuff fenced; always a different pawn shop, or a different place on the pier. A cheetah, always in different clothes. Well, the paw prints on these goods all match. And some of them we traced...back to folks who, well...disappeared. I trailed him down to The Fox Hole Lounge one night, and some bills this Cheetah tossed up on stage had the same paw-prints. I got some girls on the inside, down at the club...and some guys. They'll keep me posted. Oh...and I think we found his _day_ job. Get this: a Janitor! Pushin' mops and brooms! Cleanin' toilets!"

Simo took all this in fiddling with a pencil; he wanted to light a cigarette but they'd banned smoking.

"Looks like we'll need to move in _fairly_ soon...but let's not go too fast. As much as I'd love to see that Cheetah in a cell, he's low hanging fruit, compared to rest of the Cat Gang...still, we'll have to arrange a little 'interview', coming up. And if ya need back-ups, the Honey-badgers are a good choice. Oh, and if ya do bring him in, I gotta cell ready: last guy had a case of crabs. One night on that mattress, and he will be a 'Crabby Cheetah', just itchin' to talk.", and Detective Skunk couldn't help but laugh, partly due to how long this gang had eluded him.

"Oh, and you'd think he'd wear gloves. All those paw-prints..."

Fiona laughed. "In July? When it's 98 and muggy? That'd stand out as much as if he wore a ski jacket, ready to hit the slopes!"

Simo laughed again. "True, true. Well...stay on his tail. Better have the badgers nearby. I'd love to see where this night job I hear he has is, but we'll get to that...", and the pair said goodbye, and he hung up. Well, not a bad day so far; the Cat Gang was one step closer to being locked up in the big, brick litter-box.

(@SoL-JoS OK, we'll give this another go...)


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## larigot (Jul 18, 2019)

Fiona closed her flip phone with a flourish and walked to the covered window of the small apartment she'd rented. She placed a nail in between the slats of the window blind and discreetly made an opening to peer through. The vista of the downtown plaza below was ideal, and offered an unobscured line of sight to the front of The Royal Canin; the Cat Gang's HQ. To the public it was a classy hotel, but Fiona knew it was a stain on her beloved city.

_The gig is soon up, _she thought to herself, and briefly wondered what she'd do next if the Cat Gang was put away. To her surprise she felt a sense of ennui. She tucked her feelings away and moved to the other side of the room, where a big board was attached to the wall. On it were pinned mugshots and close-ups of persons of interest, ordered in a hierarchy. Pieces of colored string connected certain figures together and scribbled post-its dotted the board. Fiona gazed upon her work while plucking at her bushy tail, something she was wont to do when in thought. She finally picked up a piece of red string, denoting a violent connection, and ran the line between Tony “The Tall”, and her latest addition to the board – all the way at the bottom, The Crabby Cheetah.


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## SoL-JoS (Jul 18, 2019)

_Something's wrong.
_
The cheetah's tail twitched and jerked behind him as he paced fretfully back and forth across the dingy, stained carpeting in the squat, uncomfortable one-bedroom apartment he called his home.  The one light left in the room that he had pilfered from his last clean-up job flickered, but obstinately kept its dim glare above him.  His ears and whiskers drooped as he squinted up at it with a serious frown.

_Something's gotta be wrong._

He swallowed and pursed his lips, feeling suddenly insecure as another spasm rippled lightly through the pit of his stomach.  He had learned to listen to his intuition long ago- not listening to it before had sometimes cost him grievously- and it was telling him to escape from something.  For once, he felt an urge to disobey the hidden order and keep his security deposit on his quiet little shit-hole of a home, but if history were to repeat itself, the unknown consequences behind such a violate act would be devastating.  His gut quivered again and a steady stream of curses flowed from his snarling lips.  Luckily, he had already pawned off most of his stolen possessions to afford rent from last month.  It wouldn't take him long to pack his things.


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## Sir Thaikard (Jul 19, 2019)

"Going on a trip somewhere?" The cheetah froze in the hallway of his shitty apartment complex. "You never told the Boss and what would have happened if we needed a "cleaning"? What would we do without our number 1 cleaner?"

A pair of heavy paws crashed into his shoulders and he could feel Richard's claws literally cutting through the blazer's polyester. "If it were me, I know exactly, exactly where I'd be sending you. Do you like seafood? The beach is great this time of year."

"But I ain't the boss, and they think we've been working you too hard. Cleaners ain't easy to find these days. So even if you're just a stinking cheetah, we need to keep you around." The cheetah allowed himself to breathe as Richard released him and threw a briefcase onto the floor.

"Your bonus Crabby, don't spend it all in one place. I lied. Spend it on a suit that doesn't look like you shit and sleep in it."

"I have a name you know."

"How about you tell someone who gives a shit Crabby." Richard pulled a key from his wallet and flicked it into the Cheetah's forehead. "Boss also wants to chat with you personally. Good thing you're packed, go to room 439 in the Royal Canin and relax for a bit will ya?"

As the Crabby Cheetah reached for the key a well-polished shoe caught him in the jaw and sent him crashing into the dusty drywall. He barely had time to recover before he was lifted into the air.

"And never, EVER, let me catch you trying to leave town again." As he was dropped a knee found a home in his stomach and left him gasping for air while Richard left the building.


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## larigot (Jul 19, 2019)

The cheetah lay on the floor, covered in flakes from the wall, catching his breath while contemplating his fortunes in life. By virtue of the spoils and paychecks from his unvirtuous career, he could live above the standards of any mere janitor. Sure, the accomodations were crap - gentrification had not yet reached this part of town - but housing was not something he took his comforts in. Instead, there were amenities in the city he could just not do without; The Fox Hole Lounge, the casino, the little bars...

"Fucking Dick," the cheetah murmured as he rolled onto his back. He was loath to admit it, but Richard sobered him up. Leaving town meant entering the great unknown, something he was most anxious about. He carefully patted his face. _Nothing's broken_. 

Rising unsteadily to his feet, he collected the key and the heavy briefcase. With a shaky paw he unlocked the briefcase and opened the lid, revealing multiple stacks of cash. Then he noticed something on the underside of the lid: a bullet was taped to it.

_Okay assholes, you made your point, _thought the cheetah, trying to convince himself he's not intimidated.


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## Jetharius (Aug 2, 2019)

He looked at the money.  After a long, long pause he spoke aloud,  "At least fifty thousand, probably closer to seventy-five."  _Just enough to keep me coming back_, he thought to himself.  He had come to hate what he did, he didn't kill, at least not directly.  But ever since the boss got his claws into his pelt when he was still addicted to nip... it's been a different life for him.  The glaze of a high beckoned him at that moment, but he brushed off the thought.  He snapped the case shut and licked his chops.  Maybe just one more job.  _It was always just one more job, _he mentally reminded himself.

He hid the case under his dingy single mattress not even bothering to try and obscure the very telling bulge it left in the bed.  He tossed on his only other decent blazer and a clip on tie, and shuffled out of the apartment making sure he locked the door behind him.  It wasn't a long walk to the club, he was pretty sure the boss kept it like that on purpose.  His mind whirred with anxiety and resentment.  Before five minutes had elapsed he had found himself outside the club.  The bouncers, two tough looking panthers in leather vests and sunglasses, _always the sunglasses, _looked at him expectantly over the frames.  He walked in dejectedly, shuffling his paws exaggeratedly.

An elevator ride from the hallway and he stood in front of the oak or teak or wood-that-he-couldn't-afford door to Tony's office.  He hated that tiger.  He hated him with everything he was...


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## Cyanomega (Aug 10, 2019)

Around him, the bodies lay in neat stacks. Sorted by species, sex, hight, weight, age color......


This was no longer quite the simple problem of working for the mob for money.

This had become an obsession.

Being a predator, one knew things like this might happen, add on to that the professionalism and pride of his janitorial duties and you had this well organized charnel den he had constructed.

Not for the mob, not for food, not for money, not even for his pride.

This is his new obsession.

*whoops, looks like I took to long to post so I've disjointed the story. Let me know if I should delete it to keep the narrative going*


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## larigot (Aug 12, 2019)

Cyanomega said:


> Around him, the bodies lay in neat stacks. Sorted by species, sex, hight, weight, age color......
> 
> 
> This was no longer quite the simple problem of working for the mob for money.
> ...


(Haha  where should this go though? I'll continue from where Jetharius left off.)

Tony (a common name in the underworld – the cheetah suspected that Tonies had a natural inclination for crime) was just finishing a bowl of cereal. The cheetah nervously looked at a point above the tiger's head, and couldn't help his tail from flicking. The tiger slid his bowl aside with a heavy paw and rested his eyes on the cheetah with his signature quizzical stare. It was the kind of stare that made the recipient feel like an ant. Then he started talking.

Detective Fiona put the recording on loudspeaker so Chief Detective Skunk could listen in over the phone. When she spotted the cheetah entering the hotel, she'd turned on the laser microphone that was aimed at the window she knew to be of the mob boss' office. The device was incredibly handy, however, the members of the gang were playing it safe whenever they discussed something. They knew the risk of being eavesdropped, and the hotel was for the most part open to the public. Fiona was hoping that this time someone would slip up.


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## Sir Thaikard (Aug 12, 2019)

"Crusty, good to see you. Have a seat."

"Sir, I'm already sitting." That wasn't even his nickname but he wasn't about to correct the Big Boss about that.

"Ah, that you are." It was disconcerting. The Tiger was in a suit probably worth 4 times more than his entire apartment _building_ and yet he was making small talk while a milk moustache slowly dripped onto the the mahogany table that was also probably very expensive.

"Listen Cranky. You've been loyal subordinate for a very, very long time." Not true on any of those accounts, but again, Crabby kept his mouth shut.

"And I believe in rewarding loyalty. It's only fair. Don't you agree?" Crabby only nodded, uncertain as to where this was headed.

"So today, I'd like to promote you to a position worthy of the work you've put in. Wouldn't you want to rise beyond being just one of us associates?"

"Might be nice Boss, won't lie." Being able to move out and not get bitten by bed bugs? No more dumpster diving every other week? Working under someone not named Richard? Crabby was almost feeling optimistic.

Tony flashed a perfect smile with perfect fangs. "Perfect." The tiger got up and walked to the windows and stared into the dark city skyline. "But regale me with a story first would you? About your latest work. Make sure to tell me all the grisly details about how you personally took care of a certain mink."

"I beg your pardon sir?"

"Humour an old tiger would you?" Tony sighed and tapped on the glass. "We need more like you in the organization. Those who can make incompetents like Tom disappear."

All the names were wrong. Everything about this was wrong. But if all it took was making some bullshit up to get away from Dick, so be it.


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## Simo (Aug 21, 2019)

Luckily the laser mic Fiona had turned on was working fine. Chief detective skunk recognized the voices; the Big Boss, the Crabby Cheetah, and they way they tried to be coy, under the guise of these paper thin aliases. He dialed Fiona on her flip-phone.

"Fiona? When he comes out, I got Eddy and Lou, the Honey-Badgers, backing you up. Follow the Crabby Cheetah till he's at least a good few blocks away and I want ya to bring him in. I already got that suitcase he had earlier here at the station. Had no idea custodians made that kinda dough, of I mighta picked up a broom, myself. I'll have ferrets posted along the route here, just in case. He's got some talkin' to do, and a free room."

The skunk paced about his office. He felt kinda bad for the Crabby Cheetah, working for the low lifes and goons that he did; all that cash, but living like a bum who shopped outta a JC Penny's store from 1973. At first, he'd talk nice to the Cheetah. Maybe they could work out a deal, and, maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't have to take him to the room in back, the one with no ventilation, that still smelled vaguely of skunk from the last interrogation. He wondered whatever put the Cheetah on such a path...being used like a stooge by every mobster in the book, played for a fool, walked all over, kicked around...the skunk had to admit, he did feel bad for the spotted guy.

Just then the phone rang, and he heard Fiona, and the muffled snarls of The Crabby Cheetah in the background. "I got him here in the car now, Chief. I'll bring him up, for a little chat", and she poked her Colt Snub Nose .45 into his back, as Fiona led the gagged spotty-cat into the rear entrance of the station, and to Simo's office.

The skunk smiled, and took a swig of Bourbon from his desk flask.  Little did the Crabby Cheetah know what was in store for him this time...


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## larigot (Aug 22, 2019)

Fiona strapped the cheetah to a chair opposite of the chief's desk and removed the gag.

“Is this what goes for standard police procedure now?” the cheetah spat indignantly. “You've kidnapped me! She didn't even read my Miranda rights!” He looked accusingly over his shoulder at the vixen who brought him in. Fiona was leaning back against the door with her arms crossed.

“The detective had no time for such trivialities. Would you imagine if, say... Richard saw you get busted?” Simo said.

The Crabby Cheetah squinted his eyes at Simo, who continued: “Yes, we know all about you Mr.-” The phone on Simo's desk suddenly rang. In a reflex Simo grabbed the horn and put it to his ear.

“Yes?” - he quickly placed the horn against his chest- “'Scuse me,” he said to the cheetah, before focusing his attention back to the call.

“Uhu... yeah... Hmm... Woa, hold on.” Simo upended a folder above his desk, out of it came a picture that drifted down to land on his desk.

“Yeah, we're looking into it, we got a lead,” Simo said, glancing at the cheetah. “All right, give my regards to the mayor.” He casually flung the horn back on the phone.

“The mayor's office?” Fiona asked.

Simo nodded, and said to the cheetah: “Listen cat, if you're thinkin' you're in way over your head, you're _severely _underestimatin' the situation. I'm talking geostationary-orbit-in-over-your-head here.”

He placed the picture of the late Tony 'The Tall' in front of the cheetah. “Tell me everything you know about him.”


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## Sir Thaikard (Aug 23, 2019)

"He ain't gotta say shit to you, now fuck off you stinkin' skunk."

For the first time in his life Crabby was glad, even grateful to see Richard. He didn't even know how Dick got into the office and at that moment he didn't even care.

"This is a highly secure area. Who are you and how did you get past the posted guards?" The fox cop had been shoved aside as Richard flipped the desk that the skunk was sitting at. Papers flew around the room with wild abandon as lion and skunk glared at each other.

"My _client_ and I would like a word in private. Get. Out."

"I don't know who you bribed to get in here Attorney but I'm closing in on you. You won't get your way for long."

Richard wordlessly smiled as the two officers slinked out of the room, slamming the door behind them.

"Man, Dick, you saved my bacon there, I can't believe you did that for lil' o-'" Richard's all-too-familiar massive fist crashed into Crabby's face while the other ripped the cheap suit off his lanky torso. Crabby was too stunned or perhaps too busy choking on his nosebleed to react while Richard combed the rest of the room.

"Each time I THINK you can't get or do anymore retarded you prove me wrong, you know that? You stupid piece of shit. Now shut the fuck up." Crabby just nodded. "And let me clean this room up so I can clean your fuck-up up."

Richard crushed another plastic something in his paws before turning to the stunned Cheetah. "The entire room was bugged, you were bugged. That should be the last of them. Where's the bail money?"

"The, the w-what? I don-"

"The briefcase you idiot. Where's the briefcase?"

Crabby sat in silence as Richard rubbed his temples.

"You didn't actually think that was your bonus did you? You fucking idiot. Why would ANYONE give someone as worthless as you even 10 grand? You colossal waste of space. Did you read the message? Where's the bullet?"

"I, I thought it was a warning."

The desk shattered in half as Richard roared in frustration.

"It WAS a warning! Didn't you think to look inside of it?! How else have we been giving you instructions?!"

A chair slammed into the wall right beside Crabby as Richard screamed into the ceiling.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

"You two have a good day now."

The receptionist waved the two mobsters out as Crabby held the shreds of his cheap suit in one arm and an almost empty briefcase in the other.

"I didn't even know you were a lawyer..." He muttered as they trotted down the steps into the cold night.

"You don't know shit, that's more apparent with each passing day." The sidewalk in front of the station was oddly quiet, only disturbed by the flickering of insects crowding around a nearby street lamp.

"Well, thanks, I guess." Crabby awkwardly shuffled while Richard just grunted.

"Enjoy your hundred dollar bonus. Because that's all you're worth you fuck-up. You pull this shit again, and I will _personally_ make sure that even the cops can't find you when I'm finished."

Crabby barely had time to respond before Richard kicked him into gutter and walked away.


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