FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

I sat on the edge of my concrete stoop, feeling the crisp autumn air nip through my blazer and suit pants. A small trail of smoke rose up from the smoldering end of my Indigo Light, perched between my fingertips. Not my preferred brand mind you, but the next best thing since Cotton Creek went bust; still miss that tangy, bitter flavor of theirs, but Indigo's milder taste ain't bad either.

As I took my next drag, my eyes wandered over the space ahead of me. There wasn't much to look at in my front lawn: just a square plot of dark green grass drenched in morning dew, flanked by unpainted fencing on the property line to the left. My modest concrete driveway lay to my right, cracked and stained from decades of domestic use. It was the same mundane scene that it always was and would be for the foreseeable future.

The familiarity continued with the sight of a caramel brown male rabbit across the street, dressed in a very un-suburban pair of overalls and green flannel, escorting his daughter down their driveway. Members of the Hansen family, one of a growing number of young families moving into the subdivision now that most of the elderly residents were either dead or checked into nursing homes. Not bad neighbors all told, though I can't say I was necessarily jealous of their four children either.

"Morning!" he called. I raised my left paw in response, quickly bringing it back down to read 7:13 A.M. displayed on my watch's digital face. Damn. This is gonna cut it close if he doesn't get here soon. Hope he didn't forget that it's his turn to drive.

I tapped the toe of my stiletto on the ground anxiously. There were quite a few items on the docket today, like getting back to R&D on whether we had enough budget left for whatever top secret skunk works project they had planned; something about hybrid cheeses like "Cheddarella" (a cross between cheddar and mozzarella), or so the rumor mill claims. It's also the same rumor mill that tried spinning a story about a secret government-run cryo lab buried beneath our office mind you, so I didn't put much stock into the far-fetched (albeit amusing) theories it produced.

My tufted ears perked as I heard a distinctly raspy exhaust note of an approaching car. _Speak of the devil. _

A familiar dark blue Volvo rolled to a stop in my driveway before giving a quick honk. I snubbed the cigarette into the rough concrete and strapped myself in next to my driver: a slender male snow leopard sporting a black rolled-sleeve dress shirt, cinnamon slacks, and a disheveled face.

Sam's short muzzle turned and nodded in greeting, storm grey eyes giving me the smile his meager lips lacked. His rich, ashy pelt practically burst from his sleeves, as if it were trying to prove the impossibility of containing those exotic mottles dotting his body. The leopard's jumbo sized paws gripped the wheel, plain steel wedding band glinting faintly with the orange glow cast by the sunrise; a handsome fella all-round, I think most would agree.

"Hey Kells," Sam spoke flatly. "Sorry about being so late. Barely got any sleep thanks to my husband's antics last night."

Confirming with my watch that we had enough time, I dropped my misgivings for his tardiness and flashed him a smirk.

"Is that code for 'we got busy in bed and forgot it was a Tuesday night'?"

Sam seemed nonplussed by my playful chiding, and his sagging eyes lazily glanced at me.

"Hardly. Rodney came home shit faced and puked all over me while I was sleeping," he paused, face curling in disgust of the memory. "I shoved him into the bathroom and he barfed for a few minutes. And, of course, he made a mess in there which had me spending most of the night washing our sheets and mopping lion vomit off of the floor."

While it'd be a lie if I said I didn't find it a little bit funny, I couldn't help but pity the cat.

"Ouch. What was the occasion?"

"One of his friends had a birthday party at The Cat's Meow down in Kenosha."

"Ooh, classy. Surprised a married gay guy could have that much fun in a straight strip club."

Sam let out a sigh. "Well, alcohol can add fun to just about anything, especially when your buddies are the ones paying for it," he said with an empty chuckle. "Still, I was there to make him some coffee at 4 o'clock when he woke up moaning about his killer hangover. Not that I was sleeping aanyywaay," the snow cat finished through a tonsil parading yawn.

"Should've let him suffer," I snorted out.

"Part of me wanted to do just that, but my love outweighs my spite."

"You're a real sap, Sam."

"He did promise that we'd have a nice time this weekend though," the leopard went on, ignoring my comment. "Granted, he didn't really go into detail on what exactly he has in mind, but I'll take any opportunity to spend some proper time with him. I think we could both use it at this point."

"Last Christmas, I gave you my heart.."

"Sam."

"Kelly."

"Why am I hearing Christmas music in September?"

"It's not Christmas music it's-"

"The hell it is. The song is literally called Last Friggin' Christmas."

"As I was saying, it's not Christmas music, but a love song. And there's no 'friggin' in the title last I checked."

"Okay smart ass," I huffed, "Give me one good reason as to why it's about love and not the holidays."

"See, you're getting hung up on the name and the setting," my spotted chauffeur explained, "If you'd actually listen to the lyrics, you'll notice that it's a tale of a man reflecting on his scorned lover, and the Christmas setting is used as a clever contrast for his sorrow during a traditionally jovial holiday."

"Then why does it say "Merry Christmas and Thank You" at the end of the music video?"

"Because the record company probably just saw it as another cash-grab Christmas single."

His poker face was beginning to crumble.

"You're such a dork."

Sam guffawed.

"Says the accountant," the snow leopard contested.

I couldn't hide my grin. "Bet Rodney calls you 'adorkable' when you try telling him something nerdy like that."

"Ugh, you know portmanteaus are one of my biggest pet peeves," he breathed a riled snuffle. "And I especially loathe that one."

"Good, now you should be hot and bothered enough to stay awake until we get to work," I grinned victoriously.

"You're always looking out for me Kells," the snow cat grumbled.

For the rest of the ride I sat back in silence and thought about my day ahead. Today was most likely going to be drab as any other: insidiously slow, and driving me to curse the creation of the accounting software robbing me of things to occupy my time. At least audits were coming up, the one time of the year I get to put everyone on edge about whether they reported, recorded, and submitted everything correctly. I've come to the point where I can just smell those who screwed up their reports; as the old word goes: numbers don't lie, people do.

Boy, what a thriller of a life you live here, Kelly, breath bated for the moment you get to...have a formal conversation with on e of your coworkers discussing the consequences of "budgetary delinquency". You're not even the one who gets to do the fun reprimanding part anyways; they get their asses sent up to the HR office and chewed out by Maurice. Lucky panther bastard.

And what else do you do? Calculate how many gallons of milk need to be pasteurized in a day to meet demand? Add sales of cocktail wieners to a spreadsheet and see whether or not you made a profit?

You brother's a hot-shot software engineer. Your sisters have settled down with their own families. You're nothing but a pathetic footnote. All you've got to add to the Futzler tree is a crummy old house, lots of empty whiskey bottles, and wasted potential...

"Sam to Planet Futzler, do you copy Kelly?" my friend spoke while flailing his paw in front of my muzzle.

"Wuh? Sorry, kinda nodded off there."

"Maybe if you'd start drinking coffee, you wouldn't have this problem." He waggled the company-branded travel mug in his paw, sloshing with its aromatic contents.

I shook my head, more so to derail my train of thought than responding to Sam.

"Ehh, I've already got enough addictions to feed between smokes and booze, so I'm gonna pass on the caffeine."

Sam shrugged. "Suit yourself Kells." The fluffy leopard leaned back and poured the remaining contents down his gullet, bright pink tongue poking out and cleansing his lips afterwards.

I took a short breath to steel myself before climbing out of Sam's Swedish coupe. The familiar white cube of an office building rose before us, entryway currently brandished with an amateurish banner hanging above. Bell-Holland Dairy: Sharing the Taste of Wisconsin for 70 Years, the yellow fabric declared as we continued inside.

I peeked at my watch one final time, 7:57 glowing from behind the tinted plastic. _Well, it's not my preferred Lombardi Time, but I should be able to sneak in a quick visit to the smoker's lounge before anyone notices I'm not at my desk. _