FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

People walk by and I guess they already know me even though I never seen them before. I almost think I should say hi if they're so sure about it, I'm starting to remember some of their faces, but some of them all look the same. I can't afford nice jeans lady, and if I could I wouldn't waste it on pants, I'd buy a pizza for me and mom. Still I'm not trying to get whatever you have, it can't be much if you're walking past me.

The black permanent marker twirled skillfully between his fingers while he baked uncaringly beneath the warm, afternoon sun. The only thing to see from the apartment building stoop upon which he sat was the similar building across the street, the main difference being that their building still had a few patches of grass. He kept his fleshy tail raised off of the ground so it wouldn't burn on the cement, but his well-scarred bare-skinned feet were tough enough to handle it by now.

The girl who was always pregnant came out of the door, stepping down the steps, this time managing to avoid pushing the rat over.

"'Scuse me," the female weasel of some sort would say like she always did. And like he always did, Ely didn't respond to her or really even look. She was no doubt heading for the bus stop at the end of the street. She hadn't gotten a ride anywhere since she got knocked up the first time from what Ely could tell but he couldn't offer her a lift either, not that he would if he could. Her infrequent visits to door 102 left them with a faint knowledge of each other's existence when either she or his mother were out of supplies and were friends for that hour. But Ely was usually outside on the stoop.

With a glance to the cement barrier to his right, the grey-patched rat whom many had mistaken as black and white furred noticed a beetle of some kind crawling down the incline. Taking advantage of fleeting and modest forms of entertainment whenever he could, Ely would lay the marker down along the barrier in an attempt to persuade the insect to climb aboard. The bug would decline the invite, making many turns and detours around the writing instrument as Ely repeatedly lifted and placed it in front of the beetles new path. After a time the beetle was finally convinced to give the marker a try, climbing onto the back end of it while the rodent slowly lifted the marker closer to his eyes to study the bug. He spun the marker to keep the tiny creature in view as it tried to scurry out of sight, and this continued until the familiar sound of wheels scratching across the sidewalk penetrated his left, fleshy ear. Ely turned in the corresponding direction to see the red-furred squirrel gliding closer and closer, pumping his leg to propel the skateboard below him forward.

The rat turned his attention back to the marker, expelling a sudden burst of air from his mouth to blow the beetle away before pocketing the instrument. The squirrel skidded to a stop beside the stoop before snatching up the board and peering up at the other rodent.

"Hey Ely," Spencer greeted, blinking. Blinking a lot, like he did.

Ely's eyes, which many thought to be entirely black, merely stared forward as he nodded in acknowledgment.

"Jeez, it's hot today," observed the squirrel as he climbed the first few stairs of the stoop, settling into a lean against the barrier. His head snapped in the direction of all the various, urban sounds, his instinctual side warning him of potential danger while his logical side reminded him that it was noisy yet benign.

"Sorry I'm sorta late."

The skateboard which rested upon Ely's knees bounced around as it absorbed the twitching of his legs.

"Where's the Fox," Ely inquired.

"Oh, yeah, I talked to Casey, he said he didn't know if he was coming today."

"But you did see him."

"Well...yeah, yeah, I got a little bit of stuff, you know...it's no big deal." More blinks.

The rat let out a breath before taking a glance toward Spencer. The small squirrel responded with a large, fleeting grin, a common quirk of his. He would speak again.

"You ready?"

Ely's long fingers wrapped around the center of his board's trucks as he rose from the stoop, stretching just a bit. He trotted down to the sidewalk while Spencer followed, watching as his rat friend dropped the board on the ground and pulled off his tattered t-shirt before tossing it up to the top of the stoop. Remaining were his bluish-grey jeans, cut off just below the knees, and an old belt strapping the truncated pants to the rodent's slender body.

"Uh, don't you want to hold on to that?" asked a confused Spencer, motioning toward the discarded shirt.

"It'll be there when I get back. I don't think nobody wants it."

"Well...what if a bum walks by and takes it?" pondered Spencer as he stepped onto his skateboard.

In a swift single motion, Ely flipped the board upside down onto the top of his fleshy feet before leaping up and flipping the deck back onto its wheels, landing on top of it.

"Then I guess he needs it more than me."

The grating sound of the wheels against the concrete scratched out into the air and the rat took off. From behind him, Spencer quickly followed. The red-furred rodent didn't really know where they'd go, he usually just followed Ely, since the rat knew the area much better. Spencer had taken the bus that stopped a few blocks away, his parents would never drop him off here if he asked for a ride. Hell, he'd never get out of the house if they knew he was headed here. He'd invited Ely to his side of town once but it was short lived. Spencer's neighborhood had a few nice flower islands to grind on but the community itself didn't take kindly to skateboarders, and clearly had no idea how to handle rats. Spencer's mother repeatedly lamented the family's tarnished image after Spencer's infractions alongside Ely.

Upon passing by the corner store, Ely popped up the board, slamming it into the red and brown bricks of the building. The resulting impact flipped the board back under his feet quite nicely. Spencer watched this from behind the rat, always amused at what he had come to think of as a signature trick by his friend. For the time being the squirrel would keep things simple with a shoveit followed by a short but sweet manual. Before they could roll too far beyond the little store, Spencer's board skidded to a powersliding stop.

"Yo, wait up, Ely."

The white and dark grey-furred rodent immediately kicked his skateboard up into his paws, trotting to a stop just over ten feet in front of Spencer. He would turn to look at Spencer, awaiting more information.

"I just want to stop in and grab a soda," explained the squirrel, moving closer to the stoop of the store.

Ely offered a single nod as Spencer yanked his wallet out of his baggy, skating jeans by the chain.

"What kind do you want?" Spencer asked before stepping inside.

"I'm fine."

"Come on, you know I can't just go in there and get myself one and nothing for you, it's rude."

"It's fine," reiterated the soft voice of Ely.

"Look, we argue about this all the time, Ely. I'm not gonna go in there and come out with nothing for you."

The shirtless rodent let out a breath, looking away in his mild frustration. It was true that they struggled with this issue every time. Trouble was, Spencer only did this with Ely. Being destitute was something he could deal with, but being pitied was somewhat annoying. But it would be easier now to just go along with it so they could start skating again.

"You know what I like," conceded Ely with a sigh.

"Alright, cool," confirmed Spencer, as he hopped on into the store.

While the other rodent disappeared into the establishment, Ely took the opportunity to retrieve his portable cassette player from the pocket of his cut-offs. A click of the black button on the far right opened up the deck so that the rat could flip over the tape inside. The ear buds were old but functional. They weren't designed for ears like his but he could make them work, usually by wrapping them around the base of his ears once. With the lid snapped shut again, the play button soundly struck, old school hip-hop filled the listening sense of the young rodent. He didn't mind the warped sound. Honestly, to him it wouldn't sound right without it. A cop car rolled to a stop at the sign of the same designation. The skunk at the wheel gave Ely a look. The car behind him wanted very much to proceed but the cop couldn't help but to stall. Was it just him, or was that rat being sort of...rattish? In time the car lurched ahead slowly before disappearing behind the block.

Inside the store, Spencer stopped in front of the cooler, scanning the shelves for something good. Whatever he would get, it would be diet. On the rare occasion that his mother allowed soda in the house, it was always diet, and full-sugar pop was just too sweet for him, now. He knew that rotting his teeth on the stuff wasn't a great idea...but it wasn't the worst decision he'd make that day. After a short while, the little squirrel opened the case and grabbed two soda bottles before heading to the counter of the dimly lit corner store. The deli items didn't interest Spencer at all but the deli case was a quirky little thing for him to glance at, having no such places in his neighborhood.

Upon arriving at the counter, which came up to about the squirrel's chest, he placed the sodas on the counter, awaiting them to be rung.

"Anything else for you today?" asked the pattern-adorned feline in a foreign accent.

Larger felines had a way of making the small rodent nervous but he'd seen this one enough times before to be used to it. That aside, Spencer glared longingly at the rolling papers beyond the counter. He was tempted to ask about them...but this guy would probably card him. Adulthood escaped the young male by just under a year. It seemed doubtful that Ely would be happy to come in and purchase the items for him. Too bad Casey wasn't here.

Spencer shook his head. "This should do it."

"Alright, alright."

Spencer looked on while the clerk would input the prices into the old register. The squirrel was always amused that this little store didn't even have a price scanner. When the fierce-eyed feline finished, he pointed a long, sharp claw toward the display. Three dollars, sixty-four cents.

The track currently emanating into Ely's ear was one of the better ones so the rat hoped they could get skating again soon. Once again, a cop car rolled to a stop at the corner, and the guy inside looked Ely up and down. Same car. They always look twice.

Spencer offered the clerk a five. Sure, it was more expensive than it would be elsewhere...but he was helping out a local business in a struggling neighborhood...he was helping, doing his part, right?

The register went "ding" and soon the red-furred squirrel was being given his change.

"Thanks much," he said as he pocketed the bills and coins.

"Thank you," responded the clerk.

Spencer scurried toward the door now, pushing it open and re-entering the heat of the outside as a squad car sped away. There he saw his rat friend holding the tail of his board down with his foot, nibbling away at an itch on his upper right arm. Ely was a biter, something Spencer had been taught was improper etiquette. For Ely, however, he had been raised by a biter.

"Here dude," chittered Spencer, offering one of the bottles to Ely.

The rat removed one of the ear buds from his ear, and took the bottle with reluctance. Spencer opened his own and took a large drink. The way the squirrel took in liquid was always worth a second glance, his free arm going completely motionless, his eyes going a little wider, and those fast, repeating gulps that almost made it look as if he was chewing on the lip of the bottle...it's what those twitchy types are prone to. When finished, the squirrel boy nodded toward Ely.

"That's the kind you wanted right?"

"Yeah, it's fine."

He always wanted one of those sodas with a 'Dr.' or 'Mr.' in the name, thought Spencer, which is exactly how he shopped for the rat. Ely had tried many. Today's was a name brand which was okay, but he had learned that some of his favorites were the generic brands. They probably had to try harder, after all. One problem with having a bottle of soda in his possession was that now he had to deal with holding on to it while skating or drink it all now. He probably should have just told that to Spencer, it might have been an easier sell. Cracking the seal, the grey and white rodent decided that it made sense to drink some now so it would be lighter in his pocket. Spencer, despite being a little guy, could drink like a fish, so his bottle was already two-thirds of the way gone.

"Ugh, I wish I could have DROVE over here," lamented Spencer after giving the bottle a break from his mouth. "But mom still won't let me get a license. I've been old enough for over a year but she says 'I think you should wait, when you're more mature you'll be safer.' It's crud. What's immature about me? I haven't done anything dumb...nothing she knows about, at least. She's so annoying sometimes, totally ruining my life."

Ely looked out at the intersection, nodding to confirm he at least heard his friend's familiar complaint.

"It must be great to have an I.D. You can buy whatever you want without them being annoying about it."

Ely shrugged. "I don't buy nothing with it. Except cigarettes for mom a couple times."

"Still, I bet it's cool."

Ely took a few more sips. It was good on a hot day, but he knew he wasn't going to finish the bottle right now. He slipped it into his right pocket before dropping the skateboard under his foot back down to all four wheels.

"You ready to go?" asked Spencer.

Ely responded by taking off down the sidewalk, down the turn of the corner store. Spencer hastily pocketed his soda bottle and pumped after the rat. They would roll about halfway up the block before Ely would make a kickflip off the curb look far too effortless. Spencer followed with a simple ollie into the currently empty street, accented by a pivot to switch his stance. Ely hopped he and his board up onto the sidewalk across the street with ease, while Spencer did the same, but only clearing the curb by inches. He'd need to work on his switched stance.

Up ahead, Ely clutched the tape player in his left paw while he swerved along the sidewalk, easily passing by the occasional pedestrian without a flinch. A quick shoveit into a short tail slide put him back in the street for a short moment before another kickflip placed him back on the sidewalk, all while the warm, aged sound of his music made the homogeneous scenery which surrounded him appear just a little bit more interesting. An upcoming traffic light set to the wrong color would halt his momentum, forcing the rodent to skid to another stop. Within seconds, Spencer would pull up beside him, taking the opportunity to indulge in another swallow of soda.

"So," Spencer began, "how's your mom?"

Ely shrugged and took off again as the light turned green. They would continue going straight for now, until Ely decided what their ultimate destination was, assuming there was one. For the time being he would pull an impressive double kickflip into a manual before snapping out into a 360 flip. Behind him, Spencer performed a series of shoveits, alternating clockwise and counter-clockwise rotations.

Upon reaching the next crossing, Ely turned left, down a large and fast hill, with Spencer following after him. Here, there would be no tricks, just acceleration. The speeds could grow to be rather intense, and maintaining one's control would be a losing effort for most. As the two rodents built higher and higher speeds, Spencer recalled the occasion on which Ely had nearly collided with a moving vehicle. At the hill's base, a car would pass from the left when the rat had no prayer or interest in safely slowing. All the same he was startled to see the vehicle and popped a quick ollie in the final periphery of adequate time. The end result was a quick plant on the hood of the car and a very angry motorist. Ely sped away from the scene, lest a confrontation take place or law enforcement become involved. Spencer had also recounted on how the driver attempted to follow them, but to no avail as the mobile duo swiveled their foot-propelled vehicles in different directions, slipping away from the indignant driver.

"Ely...that was totally awesome," Spencer remembered saying after the fact. Ely, of course, just shrugged.

This time, however, the high-speed drop went off with zero problems and plenty of velocity. Spencer usually slowed himself just a bit every few feet, which was possible for him as he was wearing shoes. They looked sort of dumb as most shoes did, but they kept the flesh on his feet. Ely would skate completely barefoot, and had all the frightening scars and scraps to prove it. Spencer appreciated his friend's toughness but certainly didn't aspire to it.

After significant time of aimless skating, Ely would eventually settle on a destination, and a familiar one. A nearby, rundown playground boasted an impressive stair set with a delectable railing down the middle.

"I love this thing," chittered Spencer with swooning appreciation. "It's way better than the one at the actual skate park, isn't that stupid?"

Ely and Spencer trotted up the stairs, planting and skipping their feet upon the hot cement. The center railing was well scratched from their previous visits, although the paint had been long since scraped away prior to their first stops here. The peak of the stairway featured a long, straight path which stretched into the center of the park, splitting off into several other paths leading toward the jungle gym, picnic tables, baseball diamond, and other once-lovely spots. It was clear that at one time in history, the city had high hopes for this place, but now there was nary a child to be found on many days, although the occasional drug dealer could be present.

At least the path served as a sufficient runway for the two skaters to get a strong, speedy start at the railing, as the rat and squirrel reached the top of the steps. Should the railing ever bore them, the stair set was also surrounded by two very grindable walls at its base, adding to the spot's revisit value. The tough part, though, was hitting the bottom after sliding down the rail, as the sidewalk quickly became a once-grassy boulevard, now turned to mainly soil. With no grass, the patch of dirt sat just below the curb, and rolling into it with the momentum from the rail was notorious for causing the front wheels to clip the slightly elevated concrete, leading to trips and the occasional faceplant.

"I'll go first," insisted the squirrel as he hopped back onto his board and pumped forward. He would roll for about thirty feet before stopping and turning. In this direction he saw the rat trotting into the overgrown grass, clearing the runway for Spencer's attempt.

With no obstacles other than his own potential limitations before him, Spencer would take off, stomping four good pumps into the ground, bending his knees and lowering his body in anticipation for the upcoming ollie. It popped with just the right height and the rodent was now gliding just above the surface of the railing before his back trucks would come to a shaky landing on the rail. Spencer's arms immediate rose into the air to maintain this increasingly delicate balance as he slid down the beam. He had nearly lost it by the time he reached the bottom, but would ultimately find the end of the rail, he and his skateboard landing correctly on the sidewalk below. He just barely managed to break as he reached the dirt boulevard, but found himself still upright. A fist pump would adequately commemorate the accomplishment.

"Yeah!" He'd been working on that spot for a while.

It wasn't a bad grind at all, thought Ely as he prepared for his go at the steel. The clattering of wheels echoed through the empty air, following the board being dropped to the ground before the rat climbed on. Ely waited for Spencer to make his way back up the stairs, watching while the other rodent's knees ruffled the fabric from beneath his oversized shirt on his way up. When Spencer had moved over to one side, Ely began his approach, propelling himself forward with a kind of relaxed focus.

Spencer watched his friend pop off of the concrete with a 180' kickflip, perfectly straddling the rail as the grip tape of his deck scratched its way down the rail amid a beauteous darkslide. Ely looked over his white-furred right shoulder as he slid down backwards, flipping the board back to its standard position as soon as he ran out of grinding surface. Upon hitting the concrete, he stopped dead with is own special blend of powersliding and breaking. Back up the stairs, Spencer just shook his head. As usual, no matter what the squirrel did, it just...didn't matter after the rat took his turn.

"Dude, that was awesome," praised Spencer as Ely trotted back up the steps. The 18-year old just shrugged like he always did in response.

Their little game of alternating slides continued for a time, Spencer doing a grind, Ely doing a better grind. At one point the squirrel boy had hit a crisp kickflip into a boardslide, another combination move he had been practicing for quite a while. Ely, in contrast, didn't try anything too new but had little else to try.

"How 'bout some flatlanding?" suggested Spencer, after witnessing Ely land a double kickflip out of a 50-50 from the wall.

The rat kicked up his board, and scurried up the stairs, silently acceding to the squirrel's request. Spencer followed behind the rat on the other side of the rail, the two rodents heading for the sidewalk above. Ely gave the cassette player a break for the time being, setting it in the nearby grass to avoid breaking it after reaching the top of the steps. He polished off more of his soda before also letting it rest in the grass by the tape player.

In the moments that passed, Ely would be standing on his sideways skateboard, kicking various flips out of the Primo position. With a glance back toward Spencer, he saw the squirrel standing on his own board, crouching down and gripping the sides with his paws. Ely watched while Spencer lifted his lower body slowly into the air, balancing himself on his paws, on the skateboard. Any squirrel could perform a handstand, or any other basic, acrobatic feet. Spencer was no different. But he already knew he could do it motionless, this was just a warm up.

Ely stood on another Primo, flipping into a pivoting manual before setting it down, while Spencer scooped up his wheels and trotted to the far end of the sidewalk. Ely snapped out a few more flips, repeating with pivoting manuals in between. During his revolutions, the white and grey-patched rat noticed his friend scuttling toward the end of the sidewalk. After kicking out one more flip, he moved out of Spencer's path.

After reaching his desired position, Spencer turned to see his runway, thinking hard about what he would attempt. The skateboard clattered onto the ground before the squirrel's foot rested lightly upon the grip tape. Like this he slowly rocked the board back and forth. After a few more moments of mental preparation, he pumped twice, building to a gentle glide. As the wheels rolled along, he once again squatted down low, planting his paws onto the skateboard. From the distance, Ely gazed on as Spencer slowly lifted his legs into the air as the skateboard continued to roll. For a moment, he had it, a moving handstand. Spencer's boisterous tail held its position to aide the squirrel in balance while he inched closer to Ely, but he soon began to lose control of his skateboard's trajectory. Realizing he didn't have much time, Spencer tried to set his feet back down, but before he could get them more than two-thirds of the way down, the deck would flip onto its side, sending the little rodent crashing awkwardly onto the pavement. He landed painfully onto his knuckles and shoulder, the force of the bail causing his board to skid away. Ely bit his lower lip in reaction to the fall.

"Ow," was all the squirrel had to say on the preceding event.

As Spencer began brushing himself off, the fleshy feet of Ely came into his view. The rat offered a paw to the squirrel, helping him off of the hot concrete.

"Thanks...aw, jeez," lamented Spencer, seeing that some blood crept through the fur on his elbow.

Determined perhaps to a fault, the small rodent scooped up his board scurried right back down the sidewalk to try again, having absorbed much more debilitating injuries in the past. He was a tough little squirrel, even if his parents were totally ruining his life.

While Spencer repositioned himself, Ely headed over to his belongings, finally looking to enjoy some more of his soda. It was getting hot out, after all. While taking in the bubbled liquid, Ely scanned the dilapidated playground. As usual, no children. There was a palpable loneliness to a deserted swing set, knowing it was crafted with the intention of a mild joy to fill out the day, now left to rust in the wake of children who wouldn't give it so much faith. Ely had known many homes throughout the eighteen years of his life, and for lack of other options other than skating, had spent time amounting to months at the nearest playgrounds. By far, this one was the more derelict. Chipped paint competed with splintered wood for prevalence. Sand felt nice between the toes but glass unaccounted for kept anybody nearby from knowing. The only thing keeping this one standing was likely that it went forgotten by city officials.

Just as well. Ely wasn't big on crowds.

The sound of Spencer collapsing in on himself again brought Ely back to focus again.

"Crap," spat the foul-mouthed Spencer, slapping the ground in frustration. "I'll never freaking get it."

The reddish-brown rodent mounted a pained effort toward getting to his knees, compulsively brushing himself off again, forgetting that his skating clothes weren't his school clothes. As he did this, a strong, brown-furred paw grabbed the squirrels arm, yanking him up to an upright position, causing the little squirrel to let out a startled chitter. That a much larger being now stood over him did nothing to sooth his preyish nervousness but at least he knew this one.

"Damn Spence, you keep cracking your head like that, pretty soon you'll be one of those retards."

"Oh...hey Casey," greeted Spencer, looking up at the red fox. "I thought you weren't coming?"

"Yeah, I wasn't doing nothing better so figured on rolling over this way, let you guys hang out with me awhile."

After declaring his generosity, the dark plaid-shirted fox thrust Spencer's skateboard back into his arms.

"Heh, cool."

Casey glanced over toward Ely, offering an indifferent stare and a single nod.

"Rat."

The rat in reference offered nothing in return, simply turn to grab his tape player again, knowing which sound would be far superior.

Casey let out a snort of air through his nose, summing up a usual greeting between those particular individuals. Slowly, his dark-bordered eyes listed lazily over toward Spencer again, the more agreeable of the two rodents.

"Where's your board?" Spencer asked, noting the barren nature of Casey's paws.

Casey nodded over his shoulder, toward the stair set. "Over there, kiddo."

The sound of Ely's board snapping into more flips pierced the air again, as the young rodent continued on without the others.

"Yeah, Ely and I are just doing some flat landing, so come on," invited the friendly squirrel.

He earned a raised brow from Casey. "Flatlanding? So you're just...jumpin' up and down, and shit. That's all flat landing is, and what...standin' on two wheels."

After landing primo following a 360-flip, Ely kicked a varial-double kickflip into yet another primo before slipping into a casper.

Casey gestured toward the rat. "...And that."

"Flatland's awesome dude, let's go!"

Spencer scuttled over toward early to rejoin the skate session. The handstands...he'd take a break from those.

"Yeah, I'll catch up," Casey muttered, withdrawing his 100's from his shirt. From the pocket of his frayed jeans came the green lighter and predictably, from the box came the cigarette. One spark, two sparks, three would do it. The bland, stale air of the dead playground was replaced with the flavorful, thick version of oxygen the fox tended to prefer. Not his favorite of course, but it would suffice here.

Casey relaxed with his snack while watching the two rodents go at it on the boards. Yeah, the rat ain't bad. But that's because he's got nothing better to do. Spence was all caught up in kid's stuff...he wasn't bad either, but between school, that wuss neighborhood of his and that obnoxious little girl he was chasing around...kid's stuff.

Casey's always standing around, Spencer thought while attempting quick indy grabs off the ground. He'd seen the fox skate before, but it was like when he first met him at the skate park on Spencer's side of town, Casey had been standing there, in the corner of the fenced area, skateboard kicked up under his foot...but he didn't skate, he smoked, and...watched. Not too many days later, the the red fox had returned to the park, this time with booze in tow, still watching, not hitting a single ramp. It was enough to eventually pique the interest of a few of the skaters, mostly the ones too young to acquire beer and smokes on their own. Of course, it went south pretty quickly when they trusted him with their allowance.

No beer today though, as Casey continued to watch Ely and Spencer do their thing. The 23-year old had only acquired money since Spencer visited him about an hour or so earlier, and had yet to make it over to Beer Mart II (since the first one had burned down). The girl he'd been staying with was out of drinks as well, along with most other things. It was time to find another chick to crash with, probably. Thank god for his looks.

The little plastic bag inside Spencer's pocket crinkled just a bit as he went for a double heelflip, but ultimately landing with only one foot on the board, technically a miss. A glance toward the baseball diamond reminded him of a dumb photo of himself, taken when he played tee-ball, which was currently attached to the stainless steel refrigerator at home, most likely in an attempt to make him hate his life. He had to hold up the little bat and everything...whatever, clearly nobody had played tee-ball at this baseball diamond in years. There was really no reason to call it a 'baseball diamond' at this point, more like...baseball dirt.

After a nice, long drag, Casey blew the smoke from his black nose, before snuffing out the cigarette on the side of his neck. With still half of it left, he dropped it conservatively back into the pack with its remaining peers.

"Alright," he exhaled to himself as he turned and scraped up his old skateboard. He strutted toward the other two rodents, adequately prepared to do some skating.

"Dude, how do you do that?" asked Spencer as Casey approached.

"Hm?"

"That thing, where you burn out the cigarette on your neck...doesn't that hurt?"

Casey smirked a little, having successfully impressed the 17-year old. "Eh, when you grow up you might be able to do it too."

Spencer would blink and try to shrug away the fox's condescension, as he usually did. Casey brushed by the squirrel, tossing his skateboard onto the concrete. He placed an old shoe-clad foot on the board's grip tape, rolling it back and forth a bit. Yes...the wheels definitely spun.

Casey took a few modest pumps along the sidewalk, aimed toward the back of the park. He crouched for...a while, before snapping out an ollie. The height wasn't much but he landed it okay, a decent warm up. A slow pivot back the other way had him facing the two rodents again. Casey spun a shoveit that went most of the way around, enough to keep him upright, but altering his trajectory. He came to a full stop, carefully focusing the positioning of his feet now. An attempted kickflip sent him into the air, but he'd land sideways on the board. The fox stayed on his feet but the board ended up upside down, the kickflip, missed.

"Piece'a shit," the fox muttered, kicking the board upright again. "Hey, this place is crap. Let's hit Bramm's."

Spencer set down a manual and turned to face the red-furred skater. "But there's barely anything there."

"What the hell are you talking about, Squirrel? It's got that ramp. And the lot's wide open, you guys said you wanted to flatland, you can flatland your asses off in that lot."

"Yeah...I guess,"

"Come on, let's go," urged Casey, slapping Spencer's petite shoulder as he trotted past the squirrel.

The passive Spencer glanced toward Ely, whom continued to freestyle, oblivious to the apparent change of plans while heavy beats guided his wheels. Spencer approached the rat who was turned away, and tapped his furry shoulder. As he usually did, Ely snapped his body back toward the source of the touch with skittish abruptness, a common trait among city rats. By now Spencer knew not to be too close. Ely removed one of the ear buds, awaiting whatever news his smaller friend may have had.

"Casey wants to head over to that factory."

Ely blinked.

"So...whaddya think? Is that cool with you?"

The rat glanced over toward the stairs, where Casey waited impatiently.

"Hey, come on, you guys gonna get with it or what? Spence! Get your scrawny ass going!"

After offering his friend a sheepish smile, Spencer picked up his board and scurried toward Casey.

"Yeah sure," conceded the squirrel. Yes, Casey was pushy, and ribbed on the squirrel a lot and was...kind of a jerk, but he seemed like a good guy underneath that. Probably.

Ely just stared at Spencer has he approached Casey. Humoring the fox was something Ely never took a profound interest in. Spencer, well...he was a nice boy. And therefore, easy.

The squirrel glanced back toward Ely, who hadn't moved at all.

"Ely...you coming?"

The earbud nested back into the rat's ear. Whatever. Still had to fill out the day.

There on the couch sat a female rat, wearing a glazed over look on her white face with black patches of fur above her eyes, accented with gold-colored piercings. More black patches could be found elsewhere on her body, but only those who paid to see them knew where, even she didn't look the mirror enough to know for sure or care. That girl with the feel-better liquid was gone but the brown bottles remained so the late afternoon wasn't yet a bad one. There was no sound in here, though plenty of bumps and thumps from the apartment above could be heard, little kids, angry lovers or just impaired people like her who didn't have the sense to be sitting.

Beer in one paw, .45 in the other. In her mind it seemed like a bad idea to put fresh prints on it, but she couldn't help but just...look at it sometimes. A symbolic tool, this aged thing brought a new life, however drab it was, at the cost of another, and that was surreal, given how it just sits there most of the time. A swig. There were only about four more of these bottles but there were also only about four more eggs in the refrigerator. Technically she was no longer bound to motherhood but whatever told her to give the powder a rest nearly two decades ago was also telling her that perhaps she'd best live with just four bottles for now. Of course, she'd started in on the needles about six years ago, but by then the boy was old enough to cook his own eggs. If there were any left.

A couple hours ago, she was certain somebody was going to come break down that door, charge at her, and she'd be unable to stop them from doing whatever they wished with her. She was too small to defend herself, or she was guilty and cornered. Or perhaps both. But that was a couple of hours ago. Several bottles and a shot later...there was nobody there. Anyone close to her was in their apartment, or out at the store, but they couldn't care less about what was happening in here.

Another gulp. The boy's outside. She'd envied him.

Three skaters swerved into the empty parking lot. Ely skidded to a stop and surveyed the barren but familiar area. The windows of the Bramm's factory overlooked many of the shorter, surrounding buildings. Most of them had been busted out by rocks and boredom. The 'ramp,' as described by Casey, was actually a sloped walkway up to the elevated side door, and an extensive landing, adequate for a narrow runway, although it removed any chance of the incline before it making a good kicker ramp. The sides of it could be hit with a grind, at least. After that...nothing, really. Just the parking lot, and assorted glass, trash, and crumbled concrete.

"Check this out," urged Casey, skating toward the ramp with intense speed.

Spencer watched and Ely looked in some other direction while Casey jumped off of his skateboard to climb the incline. When on the landing, he reboarded, and beamed a focus glare toward his target, the adjacent wall. A few pumps got him moving at his usual high speed and the fox crouched, preparing to lift off.

Ely started kicking out some flips while his music continued to play. He knew what Casey would do and didn't need a reminder.

Just as Casey was nearing the edge of the walkway the snap of his board's kicktail rang out as the fox went airborne. The torn knees of his jeans bend and the white wheels of his skateboard flattened against the building wall, as Casey pulled off a gravity-defying wallride, scratching the vertical concrete for an exquisite length, lightly running his fingers against the wall as he went. Nearing the ground, he'd disconnect from the wall and slam his wheels down, landing the trick. He continued to ride forward at a leisurely pace, making several gestures meant to denote success.

"Awesome wallride, Casey," Spencer congratulated.

"Yeah, I know," confirmed a modest Casey. The fox's wallrides were always good, thanks in large part to his superior speed.

Spencer took off toward the wall, although didn't have the courage to try the elevated platform. Facing away from the wall, he'd pull off his own, mini backside wallride about a foot off the ground. The landing was solid, and he'd roll away without a problem. Casey raised a brow at the little wallride.

"Cute."

Spencer blinked and shrugged. "Yeah, well...I'm not as good as you."

"Eh, you're alright...I'm gonna hit another."

As promised, Casey went back at the ramp, climbing up the incline before taking off down the runway. As he was nailing another extensive wallride, Spencer rolled his board over toward Ely, as the rat removed one ear phone, again.

"I guess this spot's pretty cool," reasoned Spencer.

"Yes. Here we can see the Fox do the trick he's good at."

Spencer had to hide his smirk as Casey came riding back toward the two rodents. Without dismounting or stopping his skateboard, the fox withdrew his smokes again, pulling out and lighting up his half-finished cigarette from earlier. A deserved treat for a good trick. After a few puffs he took the stick between his fingers and snapped out a kickflip. With his confidence up, he landed the trick easily, and took another drag.

Spencer scooted himself over toward the walkway to have a go at it himself. His long, salmon-colored skating shirt fluttered as he scurried up the incline. At the landing he set the board flat and took off at a modest speed. One kickflip later, he'd find himself landed in a 5-0 grind along the side of the walkway. With a hard pivot to the left, he dismounted from the concrete and fell to the ground below. The landing was shaky, he almost lost it, but the little guy stayed on.

"Yeah!" he celebrated, with a fist pump.

Though he somewhat hated to actually utilize a spot Casey suggested, Ely went ahead and made his way to the ramp, rolling along the old, blistered asphalt with his music still blaring in his ear. An ollie sent him halfway up the incline before the rat smoothly transitioned to foot-travel, trotting the rest of the way up. At the landing, he dropped the board to the ground where it landed on its side. Before continuing, Ely thought it best to finish the rest of his soda. By now it was warming and more importantly, it was an annoyingly bulky distraction in his pocket. The lid untwisted, the bottle brought to his mouth, the remaining liquid ingested. He twisted the cap back on before nonchalantly chucking the bottle into the empty lot, where the plasticy sound of it clattering rang out into the air. Little Spencer wasted no time in scurrying over to the bottle and picking it up. Trash can...is there a trash anywhere near here? Well then he'd just have to put it in his pocket, can't just leave it here.

A skillful stomp on the kick tail spun his board into an impressive looking flip before Ely jumped on, landing perfectly on the grip tape. He took off for the edge, like Casey had, although he had no interest in trying to mimic the fox's wallride, wouldn't want him thinking he cares. As Ely reached the end of the runway he snapped into the air, and Spencer looked on as the board flipped one time...two times...three times...four times, seriously? A hard but solid landing followed and the skilled rodent rolled away from the ramp in an almost dismissive fashion, forgetting his tricks as soon as he landed them.

"Hey Spence, c'mere," instructed Casey, who marched toward the ramp. He flicked away his cigarette, which Spencer considered collecting from the ground but this time overlooked.

"What's up?" chittered the little rodent as he followed, loyally.

The fox planted his paws onto the concrete of the elevated walkway and vaulted himself up to a sit, turning to face the squirrel. He nodded for the squirrel to join him. Spencer was honored.

"This is your lucky day, Squirrel. Even though I just sold you some, I'm gonna share some of my shit with you."

"Oh...r-really?" went Spencer as he climbed onto the walkway with Casey.

"Yeah dude, I'm nothin' if I'm not generous. Tell your friends."

From the pocket of of the shirt under his plaid button-up, Casey withdrew a small plastic bag, similar to the one that was currently in Spencer's pocket. It looked nice and smelled even nicer.

"Oh wow, um, should we be doing this right here?" a concerned Spencer asked, looking around for witnesses.

"Chill out, nobody out here gives a shit. And I don't see anybody."

In addition to the product inside, the bag held rolling papers which Casey was quick to pull out. There on his knee, he went to work preparing a cigarette, removing stems and seeds as he went. He was an expert in form and speed, as he was soon licking the edge of the paper before rolling it up impeccably.

Ely had his back to the fox and squirrel, busy with more flatlanding. Primos, manuals, the flips in between, more skating to the music than listening while he skated. The nice thing about these old songs was that you could get two or three good runs out of one track.

Casey lit up the roll and immediately took in a cathartic inhalation. He held it for a second before the smoke came billowing out of his nose and mouth. A few big, masculine coughs later and he'd proved his adulthood to Spencer once again, he'd show why his company was the envy of juveniles looking to prove their own coming of age. Spencer was the lucky apprentice, a little guy with a shot at reaching the highest regard when the guys at school heard what he'd been doing and with who.

"Here you go squirt," offered Casey in a strained, post-puff voice, giving the joint to Spencer. The suburban rodent boy cautiously took the cigarette, looking it over in his partially-furred paw, studying it, understanding it, preparing for it.

"Come on Jack, it ain't poison," Casey urged.

"Heh, yeah," Spencer agreed, bringing it to his lips before slowly inhaling. His coughs were less impressive, squeakier, shakier, but no less satisfying.

"Jeez, that's awesome."

"Oh golly, jeez-Louise, it sure is," Casey mocked in a nasal voice before taking the cigarette back. Spencer laughed in response. It's easier just to laugh.

It was during one of his signature pivots when Ely noticed Casey and Spencer's change in activity. He took one foot off of his board and just stared, a small breath leaving his small nose. There goes Spencer, doing that thing again. That was the problem with skating with Casey. The situation would always manage to move away from skating.

"Like I said, I've got harder shit if you ever feel like growing up," Casey offered as he thrust the cigarette back toward Spencer.

"Yeah, I know...this is fine for now. I only get so much allowance."

A snort and a shake of the head from Casey.

"Even if I like, had a job, I couldn't get to it, my stupid parents won't let me have a car or even get a license. It sucks. They're so obnoxious. I'm grown up already! I'm eighteen in less than a year. I bet they'll let Callie drive whenever she wants when she's old enough. Probably just had me first so they'd have a kid to kick around to make themselves feel so...so big, then later they had the kids they really wanted, my life's a living hell but they don't care."

Casey stared forward. "Yeah. That's rough."

"And I bet they wouldn't even let me get a job, they'd say 'Oh Spencer, you're not old enough, you're not mature enough, school's more important.' I get good grades, I'm grown up. It sucks."

"Spence."

"Huh?"

"Smoke."

The squirrel obeyed, inhaling more of the rich, sociable smoke. He and the fox each swung a leg up onto the ramp upon which they sat, getting more comfortable. As Ely looked on it seemed clear that this was going to continue for quite a while, as it usually did. If the rat wanted to watch somebody systematically sabotage their body, he could do it at home. Sounded like a plan.

As Casey took in another puff, the sound of Ely taking off toward the exit of the lot prompted the fox and squirrel to look in his direction, following his quick trajectory toward the gate.

"Hey Ely," Spencer called, "Where're you going?"

"Home."

The two smokers watched as Ely turned onto the sidewalk, soon disappearing beyond the building wall.

"Fuck'm," Casey figured, smoking some more.

Ely shut the apartment door behind him, tossing his skateboard onto its side by the wall. He'd waited out most of the daylight on the steps, kicking out a few flips in front of and behind the building to pass the time, stepping inside the drab apartment only to use the bathroom or grab a quick drink. But it was best not to wait around out there when it got dark, not alone. He didn't have anything to take, but not everyone knew that, even if it seemed obvious.

Once he'd made his way into the main room, he caught site of Danny's shape on the couch. The rat flipped on the light switch, revealing that was slumped over on her left side, breathing slowly for a rat, normally for a non-rodent. It wasn't clear which bottle she had dropped from her paws when she passed out, there were about four possible candidates to choose on the floor, but in her right paw, the gun remained in a limp but sustaining grip.

Flipping the light off again, Ely used the twilight coming in from the main window to make his way over to the couch. He sat softly near her, knowing better than to make any sudden movements. Carefully, the young rat reached for the .45, removing it from his mother's paws, and setting it on the couch beside him. He'd place a paw on her shoulder, giving her a little shake. This was a delicate science. She'd be under deeper than normal, but for a rodent as skittish as she, too much would send her into a violent, hysterical awakening. A little harder, there was no reason to hurry. A little harder...there she goes.

One of Danny's blue eyes opened to the darkness, unknowingly benefiting from Ely's sense to keep the lights low for her inebriated awakening. He'd avoided a violent return to the conscious world but he could never quell that initial wide-eyed realization that somebody sat over her, and the nervous snap of the head in the direction of the potentially predacious figure. But...it was only him.

"Mama, it's time for bed," spoke Ely softly.

Danny's eyes returned to their glazed state as her eyes listed around the apartment, slowly realizing her realness. With the prompting of her son's paws on her shoulder and waist, she worked toward a clumsy rise to a sitting position. He wouldn't make her get up right away, for now she could sit and gather herself, try not to slump back over. For the time being, they'd just sit together on the couch, for whatever that was worth.

This was just a place to sleep and occasionally eat, so there was nothing for either rat to look at. They had a TV at the old place but realized they never used it. It barely came in anyway, so it was worth the twenty bucks to let the guy next door have it. Besides, Danny had her chosen activities and Ely was rarely inside. He spent a few hours a night on this couch, and then made his home on the steps outside whenever he wasn't skating.

"We need to...get some food," mumbled Danny in a rare instance of voicing her thoughts. She leaned forward on the couch to pick up the syringe on the floor, pawing the brownish carpeting a few times before she managed to get a hold of it. For rats, what had already transpired would be considered a lot of conversation, indicative of her altered state. While she was setting the needle on the table in front of them, Ely released the clip in the gun and checked it out. The ammo was still inside. No sense in emptying it, that's why it's here after all. The safety was on at least, so Ely went ahead and slid the clip back in. Danny didn't need it though. He stuffed it back into the couch, where it belonged.

The knees of the male rat straightened to a stand now, and he urged his mother to do the same. With his help she made it to her own fleshy feet (but a little furrier than his) and he slowly led her over toward the ajar bedroom door. As mother and son inched along, Danny continued her uncharacteristically talkative nature.

"Th-that girl was here...here today, a-and she said her...brother...got r-run over, and he got a...set...setta...semint...a lot of money."

Now at the bedroom door, Ely pushed it inward, continuing to walk his mother into the room. With his aide she maintained her footing and could continue musing on their financial planning.

"W-we could...we could do that," the mother rat suggested as they'd made it to the bed in the tiny bedroom. "We...just wait for a...a...a car. It werdn't...have to...to hit us or...me...or you really hard."

At her son's prompting, she crawled into the bed, immediately laying her head on the single pillow while Ely situated the thin sheet over her. She eagerly yet seemingly unknowingly wrapped herself in it, growing more comfortable in the apartment's single bed.

"I could...maybe I could do that...y-you might be better s-since you're...younger, and bigger than me b-but...I wou...wouldn't ask you to. I'd...I'd do it. B-but if you wanted to, you could...."

"Yeah Mama," Ely murmured, as he finished getting her tucked in. In this position, she pretty quickly slipped back toward an unconscious state, her heavy, fatigued eyes narrowing to a close. She was thinking, at least. Of course, gainful employment would be ideal rather than insurance fraud, but she'd been drinking. Couldn't blame her for thinking up ideas though, in about a month Ely would be out of school, and financial dead weight. She'd never say so, but he knew.

Ely quietly sneaked away from the room as his mother once again fell into a heavy, sudden sleep. The couch, his bed, was now clear, although he wasn't yet tired. Still, he came to a recumbent sit, his back to the arm, one leg extended in full, the other bent at the knee. From the pocket of his cut-offs came the black marker, which he again twirled between his fingers. He'd be offering nothing but consumption after graduation, and although he even considered flunking his senior year to give them one more year of sustainability, it was one of so very few things Danny passionately rallied behind. He would finish school; the mother rat knew she'd be garbage for the remainder of her life, and all she'd be able to do was assure that Ely was better than she was. All it took was a mortarboard and a sheet of paper saying so.

Ely glanced over to where a television might be if it weren't just a wall. He'd decided already. The day after school was over, Ely would go out and look for anybody who'd be willing to employ a rat to work near decent people. If his search for work remained relegated to his neighborhood he might be able to avoid the 'decent' qualifier, at least as far as anybody who mattered was concerned. Whatever, he wouldn't stay here and just use up whatever tiny resources remained. True, he had no vises, like Danny, to exhaust what they did have, but he hadn't earned any, either.

Sleep for a rodent never came easy for less than total fatigue, but after almost two decades of eating away at unoccupiable time, the rat had learned to just lay down and suspend himself until the next day. But even so...not yet. He got up, carefully avoided the bottles, thankful his mother had found the needle already. He slipped into the minuscule kitchenette, where one could stub their toe on either the fridge, stove, or sink base when turning recklessly from a single position. The cold water valve was twisted on; the water pressure was alright tonight. He leaned in over the sink, taking a few sips at the stream. He turned the water off, flipping the valve down and...slightly to one side. Only then could you prevent the dripping.

That was just about the end of what could be found in there at this time. The kitchen drained into the narrow space that presumably would be called a front hallway. There the rat scooped up his skateboard, taking it back into the main room. He passed the couch this time, instead setting the main window as his destination. Whatever light remained available out there illuminated his face just a bit as he set the board upside-down, wedged between the sill and his own chest. The black scribbles on the deck were just barely visible in this light. Out the window one could see the west side of the back lot at ground level, including the dumpster, from near which they got their coffee table. He'd been back there earlier, rolling around after leaving Spencer and Casey to smoke at the factory. In hindsight, he probably shouldn't have left Spencer alone with the fox, Casey wouldn't have helped Spencer get home if the squirrel got lost on this side of town. It was probably fine, though...they skated here much more often than Ely went over to his side so Spencer should have known the area by now. And Spencer's mother had taught him well; the bad people come out at night, and everybody over here was bad, so...look out, little squirrel. Surely he hadn't lingered much longer after Ely left.

The young rat spun the heavily scratched and scuffed wheels of his skateboard with his paws. The lot was empty. It usually was. The dangerous part of the day was approaching. If the caution was warranted, perhaps a gang fight or random shooting, or...whatever brought the sirens around would prove amusing enough to close out the night. If not...then he'd just be in here, staring at the cracks in the wall, and the stories of how they got there couldn't be as interesting as the idealized scenario in his head. The parking curbs that weren't crumbled were grindable.

He stared. Stared some more. Most of his life was spent staring at whatever.

His fingers wrapped around the trucks of his skateboard, he pulled it down from the sill and headed across the apartment, for the door. He twisted the old knob and swung open the door. Screw it, bored, dead, it's pretty much the same thing. The door slammed behind his slender, half-bare body.

Spencer was right. Somebody had taken his shirt.