FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

-1-

Anger. What a fickle feeling it is. Sharp, quick, powerful; it's so malleable it can easily be put to use if need be. It is also one to be careful with, however; you mustn't let it get to your core. You wouldn't want to end up as cold as what I am about to say to the kid sitting across my desk.

"Listen to me very carefully, boy." I mutter coarsely at the young coati. He's evidently frightened; his paws are clenching to his guitar and his pupils are considerably dilated. The dim light of the room makes it hard to pinpoint one crucial feature, however.

As I shift on my chair and clear my throat, I notice his nostrils flaring and his ears flickering. That ain't just fear. Yeah, you guessed it; he's quite angry. He totally knows what I'm just about to say, and he can't seem to handle it (or me, I'm quite intimidating for a coyote). God, I wish I could just slap him right now.

"You're just a--" I'm quickly cut off by the Rottweiler sitting next to me as he lands a heavy paw on my chest. I unwillingly fall back into my chair and let the dog continue.

"Very good performer," Says Diego in a calm and deep voice, "but sadly, you're just not what we're looking for." The Rottweiler's face is oddly calm as well; he has that calming effect on people. If it were me doing the talking, that kid would be wailing already. I think that's why the boss doesn't let me do the auditions on my own.

But still, once Diego says that to the... "Performer", if you can call him that; both of them stand up and shake paws. I glare at them the entire time. The coati is soon led to the exit, and once he gets out, I mutter, "Fucker."

Diego turns to me and arches a brow while crossing his arms. "Excuse me?" He demands at me with an overly-indignant tone and a grin on his face.

"Not you, fool." I knit my brows and cross my arms over my warm chest. "That fag you just led out the door. He just wasted our time."

He just shrugs and walks unbothered back to the seat beside me. He lets his weight fall upon the frail chair and sighs loudly. "I don't know, Evan, this was your idea."

"Well, I'm desperate." I snap sharply.

Diego just rolls his eyes and checks his watch, "I can't believe we're making auditions at 3 in the morning. Heck, I can't believe people actually came." He lets out a quiet groan as the faintest glimpse of annoyance sparks on his face.

Still, it's not long 'till we get interrupted by the creaking of the door. "Well, at least that last 'un didn't take off cryin' huh?" Says a raccoon as he enters the room. He's constantly flickering his ears and fidgeting his paws together. "Ahny progress, boys? We're runnin' outta time 'ere."

"Don't you worry, boss," Diego chimes in and leans back on his chair. "We'll figure something out." And yet again, Diego's deep tone gets to make the boss just a bit less jumpy (if that's even possible). "It's all covered."

Either way, the raccoon takes out his phone and types something on it. "Ahm gettin' all quite tetchy, boys. Nut mentionin' tarred, yah, real tarred. . ." He mutters as he types and when he's over, he looks up towards us and adds with a frustrated sigh, "Ye two sons a bitches better gitcha me sump'n real quick."

I'm just about to speak up, but I'm cut short as soon as the shaggy raccoon slams the door shut. I clench my jaw and fold my ears back; meanwhile, a low growl leaves my throat, "Since when do we call Harv "boss"?"

"Well, he is the boss, ain't he?"

I just snort and frown at Diego, "I'm the boss here as much as he is."

He rolls his eyes and turns away from me, "He treats people with respect, at least."

Oh, fuck you, Diego.

_ _ My ears get warmer as he stands up and walks towards the door. "I'll go get another auditionees. At least try being a bit more respectful."

"Respect is earned, not given; just make sure the next one can actually sing." I growl and wave a finger at him.

"Sure, sure." He, as usual, doesn't care about my gestures and leaves the room with a heavy bang on the door.

I fold my sensitive ears back and stand up slowly. "Rude..." I mutter to myself as I turn to look at the framed pictures hung on the wall behind me. They're all black and white, for aesthetic purposes. Good pictures, we hired a good photographer.

The pictures manage to catch everyone's expressions to the point. It's not hard to tell who's faking their smiles; people like to overplay it sometimes. Not me, though; my eyes lock on the picture on the very center of the wall (it also happens to be the smallest.)

In that picture there's me and Harv... The "boss". It was taken exactly five years ago in the park right in front of the building. I remember that day, it was the day when two idiots were finally able to (or at least start to) make their daring dream come true.

"Summerville Sounds." I came up with that name, and now Harv is the one who gets to say it live all mornings in statewide radiocast at 6:00 am. Still, I shouldn't complain, people like his voice and he seems to never be able to shut the fuck up.

"Get known! Here in Summerville Sounds is your chance to get the spotlight you deserve!" Only if you're competent enough not to sing like a run-over cat... I used to joke about that last part with Harv. It actually was the joke that got him to properly laugh at that photoshoot. He looks genuine, and he was.

And then there's me. My smile is actually the biggest one out of the two of us; no sign of anger can be seen on me in that picture. My eyes even look like they're glowing, somehow. Damn, I remember that day so clearly, everything was just perfect. And it showed on my face; pure, untouched joy... Hell, it all went to shit as soon as--

"Hey, I had a thought." I hear Diego say abruptly as my train of thought crashes and sets on fire.

I twitch my ears and turn to him with a sly grin, "That's a first."

He just grumbles and rolls his eyes, "In all seriousness, don't you think it might be nice to have the original performer for an opening act?" He's waggling his brows, he does that when he's excited. And with good reason; that's a great idea. A wonderful idea, I'd say, only that...

"Oh hell no." I snap at him and shoot him another glare.

"Come on, Evan!" He declares, "People loved you five years ago. They're bound to love you now, not mentionin' it's a very special occasion."

"You didn't even work here five years ago, how do you know that?" I arch a brow at him.

"Harv." The older dog crosses his arms and grins.

"Of course." A low growl escapes my throat as I turn back towards the wall with the pictures. Those pictures are actually of notable performers we've had in the past; and there's one remarkable young man amongst them all.

Taylor White is the reason for all the distress the station is currently undergoing. His smart-assed eyes are looking down on me from his picture set near the right-upper corner of the wall. Gosh, I can almost feel his frail neck in between my paws right now.

I mean, don't get me wrong, that stupid mink is one hell of a musician. The bad thing is, he knows it. That little pretty fucker is so full of himself I can't even tell him to go fuck himself without sounding redundant. Hell, he even dared not to show up today because "reasons."

And I'm not joking on that one; Harv and I just confronted him on a very heated phone call about five hours ago. Ho boy, I'm killing that little shitbag the next time I lay eyes on him.

Anyway, now I'm here, considering whether or not I should suck it up and sing live once again. Hell, I'm too rusty, and Diego knows it.

"So, what do you say?" Diego asks with a patient tone. I swear, I'm the only person that doesn't really calm down with his deep voice.

"Assuming that I'll do it," I say quietly with my arms behind my back, "what will I even sing? I mean, I'm quite rusty, you know that, Diego."

"Well..." He drags on for a bit, "I don't think you're too rusty for a tune you couldn't shut up about for most of the year." I can't see him, but I feel his brows waggling at me.

I know what he means. Gosh, why that song? He's talking about "Better Man" by Leon Bridges. Yeah, Diego doesn't know what he's talking about. I mean, yeah, I love that song. Just... "Why that song?" I look at him over my shoulder.

He shrugs and crosses his arms, "I've heard you sing that one enough times to know that you nail it!" I can't clearly see his face, but by his tone, he's genuinely excited. "Besides, Evan, it'd be cool to have my best friend perform."

Oh, fuck you, Diego. I smack my lips and snort, "You're one hell of a racketeer." I turn to him and sigh heavily, landing my paws on my desk. I can feel the sweat on my back already. "For the sake of the show... I'll do it." God, I'm even struggling not to pant.

Diego's paws clasp together immediately, and then quickly gets back to the door. "Come on, we gotta tell Harv we got the one."

I sigh heavily once again and follow him out of my office, and you can clearly tell the difference when you get out of the foam-covered walls. Everyone is losing their freaking minds; people are shouting orders to the air and running around with no apparent direction.

The sound even gets me a little dizzy. I don't blame them, everything's gotta be perfect for the big day. Still, Diego and I make it past the sea of people and finally make it to the elevator that reaches directly towards the broadcasting floor. Now I'm all jumpy and my tail is lashing a bit too violently.

Once the door opens again, we get to see Harv open his eyes wide and blurt out, "Boys! Whatcha doin' up 'ere? Didja git our guy?"

I just link my paws behind my back and let Diego do the talking, "We sure do, boss." He declares in his ever-deep voice.

Harv is staring at us inquiringly but the moment is interrupted by the closing door of the elevator. The three of us immediately launch our paws at the door for it not to close. Either way, as the door was about to close, I blurted out, "It's me! I'm the performer."

The door slowly opens again to reveal Harv's doubtful stare. He ain't buying it. "You heard me, I'm your opening act." I say firmly as my arms cross almost instinctively.

Still, Harv turns at Diego with his look untouched. Diego, as usual gets the final word; "He's right, boss. Nothing better to celebrate our fifth anniversary than havin' the OG singer back on stage, huh?"

Harv's stern look relaxes a bit and turns back to me. "Y'kno whatcha gunna sing?"

I clear my throat at length and mutter, "Sure... I just need to find the track. I'm sure we have it."

"I reckon yer right." Harv says, "But who's gon be mah producer while yer wailin'?"

Wailing? You cunt. "Hey, aren't you forgetting about my assistant producer?" I nod at Diego and add, "Besides it will just be for ten minutes. Tops."

The raccoon and I hold stares at length until the elevator door attempts to close again. This time, I'm the only one who bothers to open it. Immediately then, Harv says in a low tone, "I reckon y'all Yankees won't tore up this all." He turns away and makes his way back to the broadcasting cabin, saying, "Quite a horse sense, Diego."

My peripheral vision allows me to see the Rottweiler smiling slightly, but my eyes just focus on the raccoon as the elevator door closes one last time.

Just a few seconds later, I let out a low growl and clench my fists.

"Cool off, man." Diego mutters and pats my back with his heavy paw.

"Diego, I pretty much can't cool off during this situation."

He just scoffs and adds, "Well, use that fire to rehearse. I gotta go help tweak up the intro's script." And immediately then, the door opens back on the crowded door of my office.

I abandon Diego in the elevator and make my way back to my office; a sigh of relief escapes me once I get it locked and the noise disappears for the most part. However, that doesn't keep my breathing from speeding up. Evan, what the fuck were you thinking?! I stalk across the room while my tail lashes violently from side to side. Calm the hell down now.

I take another look at the wall of pictures, and can't help but feel like all the eyes there are judging me for my decision. "Why this damned song?" Because that's the only one I can actually sing right now, fool.

I keep stalking quietly until I feel my phone vibrating in my pocket. I take it out as fast as I can and take a distracted look at the screen. It's a message; from none other than my dumb, lil' brother, Ashton. It reads, Good luck on your big day!!! :]

Fuck that, I don't have time to answer. My paw wanders into the inner pocket of my jacket and retrieve the earbuds I always carry with me. I bounce on my feet as I search for the track and try not to look at the pictures behind me. Especially mine.

*

I stare at my usual spot on the console, outside the cabin. God, it seems so distant now that there's a glass window in between us. At least I can trust in Diego covering me for the next ten minutes or so; my chest warms up a little when I see him giving me a thumbs up and getting in place.

"Yer ready?" Harv says as he settles on his own spot, fixing his shirt, "We're goin' live in two. Fetch them cans."

I nod at him and take the headphones from the hanger. It truly feels weird to be on this side of the show; and the fact that our social media girl is taking a picture of us doesn't make it any better. I try not to stare at her phone during the brief photoshoot.

One minute left. I say to myself when I notice the clock on the wall and almost feel its ticking inside my chest (Well, not really. I mean, it's a digital clock but you get the idea). I drink my full bottle of water in nearly two gulps and clear my throat.

My fingers tap restlessly against the table and I find myself humming lowly. This apparently goes on for long enough for the intro music to start playing, and make me jump. I sit up straight and link my paws, looking at Diego and trying to clear up my head from a single thought; Why this song?

The overly-convoluted intro melody comes to an end and it's Harv's time to shine. "Good mownin' all y'all, ladies and gentlemen! Boys and girls! Rascals o' all them ages!" He says in his cheery show-voice. "As it's usual, Ahm y'all's host, Harvey Wilkins. And be welcome to Summerville Sounds, where it's summer awl year lowng."

He's smiling all the way through his monologue. I can't help myself from smirking as he goes on. "Da day's cute as a button 'ere in Summerville, South Carolina--ow hey! Ahm missin' somethin' 'ere," He makes a scenic pause and then adds, "Ahm flashin' back five years ago, y'know? Back at ow-ah ferst show ev-ah!" Diego then adds a gasping effect from the console.

"Damn right, every'un! Today's a vewy special day. Today, five yeers ago was de day Summerville Sounds came to be!"

He then speaks for two minutes straight about how we started out as an hour-long segment on our predecessor, and how none of this would've been possible without the fans. And then comes my introduction.

"But listen, every'un, I've got somethin'--I mean some'un very special for us today here in da cabin." He smirks at me, "He's dah coyote with whom I built dis all from the dust. The man with da daring dream that's now mah source of income, heh. And de devil who actually could carry a tune in a bucket five years ago to kick off this whole thing. Every'un let's give a big round of ah-plause to Head Producer and co-founder; Evan Honey!" Fake applause then kicks off as well as Harv and briefly, Diego.

Once the recording ceases, I say uncomfortably, "Thank you, thank you. It's great to be on the other side of the glass. Been a while."

Harv gives me a fake giggle and then says, "It sure has, now you're dealin' the front line of the action! So, Evan, tell them fans some 'bout you."

"Well, as you all heard," I pause and tap my foot, "I work here as the Head Producer. And how the hell am I here? My assistant's in charge at the moment, let's see if he can keep up." Harv and I chuckle forcefully, then I remember the introduction protocol for participants. "But yeah. Uh, I'm 27 years old and also I'm from Colorado; I studied Communication in Winston-Salem--there's where Harv and I met. And, well, time passed; we had an idea, worked our asses off for it and now we're here." I didn't regret much the foul language; Harv swears live all the time.

The raccoon keeps talking and my ears buzz through the whole thing. I'm surprised I'm actually pulling this off. So much so that I ignore what Harv's saying until I start hearing a familiar melody. Not the one I'm supposed to sing, however. It's actually me from five years ago, singing Bare Naked Ladies' "If I had a Million Dollars". My head nearly explodes.

I shut my eyes tightly and I can almost see myself singing like a total idiot in the worst voice I could ever pull off. Weak, smooth and overly-joyful (I'm also making slight hip movements in my memory). I'm not the best singer alive or anything, but I know I've improved greatly since then. My voice is a lot deeper, too.

"We-hell, lookit dat." Harv says once it's over. "Ow-ah ferst presentation over. What do y'all think? Ahnyhow, now it's 'is tahm in de spotlight unce again! And w'thout fur-dah ado, de mike's all yers, Evan. Go bonkers."

I freeze for a moment with the words back in my head resonating like a drum over and over; Why this song? Why this song? I try to shake it off as much as I can while I clear my throat and try not to tear up as the melody comes up.

*

The sun dazzles me briefly as I step outside the building for the first time in over 24 hours. The sudden change of temperature makes me open the first button of my shirt as I walk over to Azalea Park, right in front of the building. It's nice to breathe fresh air and see some color other than the black foam that covered the office. Especially now in November.

A car horn booms as soon as I reach the opposite sidewalk, making my ears fold back and my paws clutch to my lunch paper bag. I turn to the red Passat parking close to me as the driver waves a paw at me. It's my dumb, lil' brother, Ashton; part-time Uber driver and full-time failed writer.

I check my watch and say to myself, It's 11 o' clock. Pretty early, I might say. I unconsciously grumble and prickle the fur on the back of my head as I approach the car. And then I get on the passenger's seat.

"So, here's my favorite fugitive!" Says Ashton as he looks at me with glistening green eyes and a pleased grin. "I haven't seen you in days." Looking at him is like looking at a mirror; only that the reflection is lanky and way shorter.

"Hi." I reply in a flat tone and sink back on the seat, and add, "I've been busy."

"Seriously, bro," He pulls out a Starbucks bag from the backseat, "You really need a break."

"And what does this look like?" I glare at him and pull out my own food; a turkey sandwich from the station's cafeteria. It smells hideous. And his voice just adds insult to injury.

"Are you coming home for Thanksgiving?" He pulls out a cheese Panini that smells way better than mine.

"Not sure." I reply flatly.

He twitches his nose and makes an 'hmmm' sound. "I mean, you haven't come to the house since Thursday and you didn't come to lunch with me yesterday. I--"

I sharply cut him off and glare at him, "Will you keep it down? I have a terrible headache and I'm trying to eat" The tip of my tail lashes violently. "And I'm a busy person. Leave it at that."

Ashton adjusts himself on his seat and takes a silent bite off his cheese Panini. He jumps in his seat when his phone starts beeping on the hanger. It's a trip request. "Oh, hell no. . ." He mutters and taps the phone, "I'm having a nice lunch with my brother."

I keep eating and roll my eyes at his comment. Meanwhile, he is tapping his finger on the steering wheel as he takes a sip from his trash coffee. "So, nice performance today. You did a great job." He pauses briefly with evident quivering in his voice, "It was quite unexpected." I'm not looking at him but I know he's giving me a pitiful smile.

"Quite." I comply and sigh, "We were quite desperate. Taylor White cancelled on us last minute; we needed another opening performer ASAP." My eyes shut from the sheer memory of desperation; and now I am more than certain that the pitiful smile is there.

He sighs and sinks back in his own seat. "Are you okay, Evan?"

My green eyes lock on to his in a deep glare. My nostrils flare and mutter bitterly, "I have a headache. That is all."

"No--I mean. . . That song, I assumed--" I don't even let him say another word.

"I'm perfectly fine, Ash." I cut him off sharply and shut my eyes once again. "It's none of your business."

"Bro, it's not okay to keep all of this in. We've talked about this, you need help."

"Ashton. . ." I pause and let out a resounding sigh, "I let you live in my place for absolute free. And we have talked about this." I remark in an imperative tone but not daring to look at him. "The only things I ask to you in return are: No parties. No redecoration. Do your chores. And the most important of all. Stay out of my _motherfucking_business."

"Evan, please." He says and puts a paw on my arm. I flare my nostrils and glare sharply at him.

"Don't you touch me!" I scoot away and get out of the car but not without smashing the door. "Have a nice day." Now I just want to go back to my office. I start walking down the sidewalk but he's following me now.

"Evan! Evan! Listen to me!" He yells from the car. "I know how bad it hurts. Trust me. But we're getting nowhere if you don't let me help you."

"Leave me alone!" I snap bluntly and turn to him, "I don't need help. It's my problem and it's up to me to figure shit out."

"So there is a problem." He argues and my ears drop. Shit.

His phone starts beeping once again, making my ears perk up. "You still pay your own food, Ash." I remind him as a heavy frown grows on my face.

His eyes shoot me a disappointed look and taps the phone. I can hear that he accepted trip.

"This ain't over." My brother says lowly before leaving and disappearing in a turn.

And so I'm left here alone in the park; my fists clench as my breath gets faster and hotter. I swear, if someone even talks to me right now I'm--

"Look out!"

My thoughts are interrupted by that call, and it is the final spark that makes my whole body blaze out. I quickly turn and yell, "What?!" Nevertheless, the spark turns off and I'm cut off once again by an approaching projectile, followed by a sharp pain extending through my body; coming from my groin.