Rats
Furlandia conbook story 2017. An ordinary man wakes up "furred" and turns to his local bartender for help.
A rat walked into a bar. It wasn't that big of a deal, really. We've got rats in this join all the time. I should know. I own the place. We got Whiskers Mahoney in here every Saturday for a chat with his boys, and even now, if you looked over in that far corner, you'd see a table full of some of the most notorious rodents the city has to offer.
This rat was different.
First off, he was trouble with a capitol T. How'd I know? Well for starters his eyes weren't right, large as saucers and darting around the place like he'd just seen a DEA agent. Not that there's any danger of that in here. No. You drink in this joint, you drink safe. But this wild looking rodent had a glaze over his eyes that said panic. His clothes looked like he'd stole 'em off a guy half his size. Shirt buttoned up crooked and fur peeking through everywhere. And he held his tail all wrong, up high and stiff, like he didn't know what a tail was for.
Trouble. And of course it marched straight for my bar.
I swiped the counter with a rag and then reached under to tuck it right next to my emergency derringer. One quick check that was in reach, and I pulled up a clean shot glass and poured the guy a Limelight before he managed to amble into range. Just in case this fella was a cop, serving Limelight didn't hold water in court. It was basically fruit juice gone bad. An easy defense for a good lawyer, and I had the best.
The rat stopped opposite me and stared at the drink. His paws shook, but he took the shot and tossed it back without spilling a drop.
"You all right, Ratty?"
"I'm not a rat."
Now I wish I could say that was the weirdest thing to come out of the mouth of one of my customers, but a rat claiming he's not a rat didn't chip the iceberg so to speak. I poured him another one and waited for whatever explanation he could dig up.
He slammed the second Limelight and looked around the bar, at my patrons, and at me with a crinkle in his muzzle.
"I'm not supposed to be a rat."
"Is that so?" I pulled out my rag and wiped the bar in a lazy circle. "You're supposed to be what then? A tiger? Maybe a big ol' bear like Joe over by the door."
It was always a good idea to point out Joe, though how anyone could miss a bouncer that size, I couldn't say. They still seemed surprised when I had to bring him into matters. Every time.
"No." Ratty shook his head and his long whiskers danced. "I mean I'm not supposed to be one of you at all. I'm not a... I'm not."
He could have finished that sentence with half a dozen racial slurs, and I could see he wanted to. At least the jackass had enough sense to stop while he was alive. He glanced around again. Yeah. Way outnumbered, fella.
"Listen." I'd expected something a lot more interesting than self-loathing from the guy. Now he'd bored me. "I hear there's a real expensive doctor who can help you play human if you feel like it. I got customers to tend to."
"Wait!" His paw landed on my arm, long fingers in my fur, and I felt the prick of claws.
Desperate, or he'd have known better than to lay paws on me. I curled my upper lip and showed him exactly why the joint is called the Snarling Hound. His grip relaxed, but didn't drop away. Yeah. he was real desperate... and real dumb.
"I don't mean that." He let go finally. Maybe 'cause he knew I was gonna kill him and maybe 'cause he'd just finished panicking. "I mean I am a human. Or I was. Yesterday, I was a regular guy."
"Is that so?" It's not the weirdest thing, like I said. I run a bar. But he'd worked his way closer to the top ten now. "You're supposed to be a _regular_guy, and now you're a rat?"
"Yeah." He whimpered then, rubbed his paws over his face, looking a lot like a guy who was born a rat. Just for a second. Then the crazy look came back and I checked out his tail again. Stiff. Awkward. Unnatural.
"So what happened?"
"I just woke up like this."
"Furred."
"Yeah." He nodded like a crazy person, sort of sideways. "I don't even have hair for real. Been bald since my thirties."
"So you were a regular, bald human when you went to bed and then..."
"I woke up like this."
"Furred."
"Like you."
"Not even close, buddy."
"I know!" He wailed that and a few of the regulars looked our way.
"Keep it down." I nodded to Joe, checked in to make sure he had his eyes on us. "This is a business, man."
"Sorry. I Just don't know what to do. I mean, I don't even know any frea... furred. There's one of you guys at work, but he kind of keeps to himself."
"I bet he does." My patience was dying along with my sympathy, but curiosity kept me talking to him. At least for the moment. "Did you drink or eat anything weird before bed?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean did you take any candy from a strange old woman in an alley? Or drink someone else's drink?"
"No. Why?"
"Rules out magic potions." I scratched my chin with a claw and scanned the bar for anything shadier than this idiot. Nothing. "How about curses. You piss anyone off recently?"
"Not that I know of."
"What do you do for a living?"
"I'm an accountant."
"You don't work in a lab or near anything nuclear?"
"No."
"Shame." I'd run out of ideas, and he dropped a few notches on my interesting scale. I checked the crowd again. Our night's entertainment had arrived and all eyes were on the Siamese cat slinking her way toward the stage in the back corner. "You want another shot?"
No answer from Ratty. His eyes were on the stage too. Lola has that effect on folks, I guess. Even bigoted ones, apparently. Maybe the guy was here to learn a lesson or something. I didn't' have any more time to waste on him. I left a third Limelight on the counter and went back to working the whole bar. Maybe I should have offered him a real drink, but I wasn't feeling too charitable at that point.
He leaned against the bar through the first set while Lola crooned and purred her way into the hearts of my patrons. Great act, that cat. She had style, class, and anything else you'd want in a dame.
Too bad she didn't like dogs.
I remembered what it was she did like when she wrapped up Dream Lover and headed for the bar. Rodents. Trouble again. Not that Lola couldn't handle herself... or anyone else in the bar. No. It was Ratty I was worried about.
That jerk couldn't survive Lola. Not many furred could, and a regular bald accountant-turned-rat? No way.
I scampered back toward the bar, but the kitty in the red dress got there first. By the time I slid into position behind my sanctuary, Lola had Ratty's tail in her claws. She played with it, batting it from one paw to the other while the pseudo-rat made soft choking noises in the back of his throat.
Too late.
"Hey buddy." I tried anyway.
"Y-yeah?"
Earth to rat-man. I poured another Limelight, ignoring the glare from Lola and the way her little red dress shimmered and hugged all the right parts of her. When I set the shot down, neither of them commented.
"I think we've ruled out any possible explanation for your problem, huh?"
"Sure. Yeah." His rat eyes were fixed on Lola, but I caught her sneaking a peek in my direction. Curiosity. Cats. Bingo.
"Can't be potions, poison, curses or a magic wish. I think we're done really. Maybe that doctor is a good idea."
Lola frowned. Perfect. She dropped Ratty's tail too, but he opened his mouth and spoiled my plan completely.
"Did you say magic wish?"
"Yeah. You gonna tell me you wished to be a rat last night?" I laughed. Unfortunately, nobody else did.
"Not exactly."
"But you did wish for something?"
"Yeah. You know. " He rolled his big rat eyes sideways.
"Crap." Wishing put him back in the top ten for weirdness, but I had a feeling I wasn't going to like how this ended. Lola, apparently thought wishes were fascinating, too. She purred loud enough to rattle the empty glasses behind the bar.
"What did you wish for, big guy?" She blinked green eyes at him and reached for his tail again.
"I-uh."
Trouble. I told you. Ratty looked at me finally, then his eyes dropped to the drink before bouncing back up to Lola. He stared at her, stared into her cat eyes long enough for me to know he was a lost cause. Lost. Poor fool never had a chance, really. His sigh sealed the deal.
"I wished to meet the woman of my dreams."
Rats.
Lola purred and stroked the bald tail. Her smile exposed a fang, but if she was the woman of his dreams, Ratty wouldn't care one bit.
At least the mystery was solved. For me, anyway. Lola wouldn't have given a bald accountant the time of day, but she led the rat-man away from the bar with a deft flick of her own wrist and a smile that had ruined many a furred heart. Maybe this one could keep her. You never know with wishes.
I tossed back the Limelight and watched them go, watched the newly furred rat take a seat right up by the stage. And I couldn't help but notice how his tail moved now. Low and side to side.
Just like he was born to be a rat.