FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

I'd only been in the office for ten minutes and I could barely keep my head up. Rodney's drunken escapade had thrown my sleep straight out the window, and not even heavy (possibly deadly) amounts of sugar and caffeine were giving me any energy. I glanced down at the picture standing on my desk, next to the computer screen.

Within the slim steel frame a jovial snow leopard hugged a handsome lion from behind, both with their heads facing each other for a light kiss. The couple stood in a court yard wearing tuxedos on what looked to be a bright summer's day, completely content to be with one another, if a bit hot and sweaty. Rodney & Sam-June 17th, 2012, read the inscription on the bottom of the frame.

You don't make it easy for me, do you? My lips faded to a frown as I thought of how little time we'd spent together as of late. Such is the nature of our jobs I suppose, him being the Head Project Manager for Derlo (a local renovation company), and I the President of Bell-Holland Dairy's Marketing Department. I have to admit that I'm getting a little worried that we're growing apart, especially since it's been what...ten years since we started dating back in college, and seven since we've been married?

No, you're fine, I scolded myself, You both know the other has a busy work life. It's not the first time you've been apart for a while; you're both adults now, not naive twenty-somethings in college. Besides, he promised you a nice, romantic weekend, so he clearly must care about you right?

Could've been spared the vomit, though.

I was brought to my wits by a rapid knock on the door.

"It's open."

A tall buck donning an obscenely yellow suit confidently swung the door open upon getting permission, chest puffed out as he swaggered into my office. Dana Ignascious Pyle, Market Analyst and pain in everyone's collective ass. He went by his last name, though most of us preferred to use other names behind his back, Dip being a personal favorite of mine.

"What do you need from me today, Pyle?" I asked, already growing agitated by his presence.

He put on his slimiest smile.

"Oh, I just wanted to pop in and chat about how your latest campaign's been doing."

I let out an annoyed grunt.

"Just fabulous, now if you don't mind I-"

"Mmmm, that's not what I've been hearing," the tawny deer chirped in his trill voice.

He half sat on the edge of my desk, bringing with him the acrid spice of cheap cologne.

"This is about the New Cordon Bleu Chews launch, isn't it?" I shrank in my chair.

This conversation was inevitable, really; it was his job to meet with me about how our products were doing, and one he loved when the opportunity to bear bad news presented itself. Others' misfortune was Pyle's fetish, and it seemed that today the stench of my rotten luck had led the cervine dick straight to me. Only having about three hours worth of sleep certainly wasn't going to help me take it any better, either.

He opened the manilla folder resting between the three digits on his paw, leafing through the mound of documents within. "Indeed. I figured you may have wanted to hear that the initial batches were received rather poorly in store sample tests. Most disliked the texture, with my favorite response suggesting we rebrand it as cheese flavored gum. Our survey results also report that 96% said 'No' when asked if they planned on purchasing New Bleu Chews based on their free sample."

He flipped to another paper, "However, the overwhelming majority were highly dissatisfied with the new taste, with petitions being formed online for us to revert to the original recipe. One might say that many of our loyal customers are quite...mhm...cheesed off at the moment."

The antlered asshole tipped his tapered head back for a few self-righteous chortles.

"Yeah, no shit Pyle," I snapped. "I've seen all of the outcry over it on the internet, from MewTube to Barkr, and every local news outlet has been up my ass with questions. You think I don't know everybody hates the new flavor?!"

My desk chair complained as I reclined with a huff.

Pyle shifted his towering form to face me more directly, a fiendish shadow being cast by the 12 point rack atop his head. Clicks of a tongue emanated from above.

"Poor Pilten," Pyle frowned and shook his head pitifully, "Fizzola went through this back in the 90s when they changed the formula of their soda, and I'm sure you're well aware how everybody went ballistic. If you and all the yahoos in Product Planning would've learned from the past or had even a kernel of sense, this could've been easily avoided. Instead, you went ahead and decided to make the same mistake, with the same results."

His obnoxious mirth surfaced, Pyle clearly enjoying every second of his tirade. "Though I must say, this is shaping up to be the most exciting post-release analysis I've published to-date thanks to your little failure, Pilten. The current working title is Bleu Monday: A Post-Mortem Analysis; fun, hm?"

"Get back to your office, Dana," a stern female voice suddenly piped up from the doorway. He turned to see a lanky lynx dressed in a stark white pantsuit leaning against the doorframe, staring daggers with her yellow eyes. My number crunching hero has arrived.

"Oh! I was just chatting with my pal Sammy Miss Futzler," Pyle cooed, putting on an innocent smile.

Kelly rolled her eyes. "Of course you were. That reminds me, you still haven't turned in the department performance evals that I need for my audits."

"I was unaware of any evaluations being due." The buck tried weaseling out of trouble, but Kelly knew better than to give Pyle an inch.

"Really? I sent an email a month ago telling you the date they were due and encouraged you to complete them as soon as possible. I sent you another one as a reminder two weeks before I needed them. I sent you a third message on Friday letting you know I was expecting them Tuesday. Now, tell me, what day is it Dana?"

The lynx stalked her prey, standing up fully and moving to the middle of my office.

"Uhhh," Pyle stammered sheepishly as he was grilled, "Wednesday?"

"Very good. Then that means you know you're overdue by one day," Kelly folded her arms, "I expect to find a file of eval papers on my desk by three o'clock. Otherwise, I'll have to let Maurice know that we have incomplete internal reports."

She stepped closer to look at the buck square in the eyes. "And just between you and me, he is not in a good mood today. So unless you want the entire employee handbook thrown at you, I'd suggest you get moving, sunshine."

Pyle nodded and quickly stomped out of the room. "Right away, Miss Putzler," he growled under his breath as he left. Kelly watched him leave, flipping the bird before turning to me.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Douche," I let out under my breath.

"What'd the knob goblin want?"

"I dunno. Must be feeling extra nasty today since he rubbed the Bleu Chews shit in my face."

"God, if I hear about Bleu Chews one more time..."

"Tell me about it. All I've seen on the BH intranet are tasteless Bleu puns. Like this one," I opened the app on my computer to read off an example.

"Hey Sam, I bet you were BLEU IN THE FACE when you heard the news LOL!!! Damn people just can't give me a break..."

"Eh, give it some time. I'm sure they'll go back to the original recipe, stage a triumphant return of every Wisconsinites favorite cheese snack, and you'll go back to being the hero."

She gave me a concerned look, noticing my scrunched face.

"You alright dude?"

"Yeah, it's just Pyle's poor taste in cologne burning my nostrils."

"Just be glad you're on my side," Kelly said wryly. "Things may have gotten uglier had I not come and scared him off."

I snorted.

"Ooh, I feel so much safer knowing the Queen Bean Counter of Bell-Holland Dairy will come to my rescue," my paws waved mockingly. "What're you gonna do next, make him draw up pie charts as punishment?"

Kelly shrugged.

"Alright, fine, be that way. Next time one of your campaign fund requests comes through I'll just put my 'DENIED' stamp to good use," she added with a cheeky wink.

"And maybe I'll just go home early and 'forget' that we're carpooling," I flicked an ear to volley her smarminess.

"Not funny! My house is, what, fifteen miles from here? I can barely put up with these blasted shoes as it is," she gestured to her white high heels, "bet I wouldn't make it out of the parking lot without snapping my ankles."

The image gave me a hearty chuckle.

"Y'know how they have that annual summer charity marathon in Milwaukee for the local soup kitchens?"

"The one with the drag queens, right?"

"Yeah that one! If they can do it, I bet a spry young cat like you could."

"Why do I get the feeling that you've taken part in one of those?" she raised an eyebrow.

"I've thought about it, but I always decide against it since you'd never let me live it down."

"Aww, not gonna give me some low-hanging fruit?" the lynx complained.

"Say, speaking of fruit, wanna go out for lunch later?" my woefully empty belly started to control my train of thought. "That is, if I don't crash out at my desk before then from sleep deprivation."

"Cool with me. Haven't gone grocery shopping yet this week, and all I've got here are some stale chips that've been festering in one of my drawers."

"How's Baker's sound?" I suggested, referring to the small sub shop that served as one of our haunts during our college years.

"Shit, haven't been there in ages. Could go for one of their Red Octobers right about now," she mused while licking her lips in anticipation. "A nuclear holocaust of flavor in your maw."

"Heh, maybe I'll have to get one of those too."

I turned back to my computer, groaning internally at the wave of new emails flooding my inbox, all of their subject lines related to New Bleu Chews. This is gonna be BH's biggest blunder, and I get to take the heat for it, not the boys in Product Planning who were adamant about fixing something that wasn't broken. Fuck me.

"Well, as much as I'd like to chat some more, it looks like I've got quite a few memos to send out and apology statements to write."

"Yeah, and those reports sure as hell aren't gonna file themselves," the dark brown bobcat sighed as she rose from her seat and stretched. "Later Sam. Just holler if Dip gives you any more trouble so I can send Maurice to rearrange his antlers. "

I saluted her. "Roger that Der Kommissar."

She shook her head and started back towards her office, the thumping of heels fading as Kelly walked further down the hall.

My eyes returned to the picture.

Soon, it'll be just us again. No work, no family, no friends, only me and you. We'll get back to normal, if only for a few days. Or maybe this is our new normal, and I just don't want to admit it...