FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Well, it had just been another usual night working in the bar for the German shepherd until it happened. The night was a warm one. The stars were powdering the sky in a cacophony of abstract colours and shapes, twinkling happily together as the moon shone brightly, illuminating the world with a brownish-grey glimmer. It sparkled magnificently, casting a long, lazy halo around its circumference. The air was fresh and groggy, the sort that made you sweat uncontrollably. The mugginess that wouldn't let you sleep. But he didn't care. He was happily tending to his beloved patrons, mixing delicate blends, and inventing new miracles with each shake of his cocktail mixer; a sprig of rosemary, a dash of lemon, a chilly ice cube, a sprinkle of salt around the rim of the glass.

Earlier in the day, he was hastily packing his things ready to leave for a busy evening. 'See you later, Hunter,' he said as he put his keys in his jacket and ruffled his hair a little in the mirror. His efforts were futile. That little curl of fur could not be tamed. It hung between his eyes and swung back and forth as he jostled about.

'Later, Chase,' said Hunter, his dearest boyfriend, who quickly rushed out of the living room to give him a chaste parting kiss. 'You'll be okay, yeah?'

'Of course, I will. I'll be home early tonight. Maybe we can watch a film together? What about that one you bought the other day?'

Hunter blushed and took Chase's paw in his own, giving it a playful squeeze. He looked up and smiled. 'Don't sue me, but I already watched it,' he said, suppressing a laugh.

'You little Rotzlöffel!' replied Chase, 'I thought you were saving it!'

'Yeah, well, I got bored. What can I say?'

'You're lucky I love you.'

'Haha, lucky, or cursed?' said Hunter, giving him a playful wink.

'Goodbye, Hunter. I'll bring you back a mint,' said Chase. With that, he waved goodbye to his boyfriend and shut the door behind him. He stepped out onto the warm, sun-kissed street and winced as the bright light flooded his vision. The concrete beneath him was scorching hot and reminded him of burning coal or a relaxing sauna. He fancied going to a sauna. Maybe next weekend.

From inside, Hunter watched as he slowly strode towards the garage and heard the familiar rumble of rolling wheels as he opened the door. He disappeared for a moment before returning with his bicycle and he hopped on it, kicking off for a good head-start. The dog got smaller, becoming a blur, and then a dot, and then nothingness as he rode over the hill. Hunter gave a soft sigh and slumped down on the sofa, his heart full of longing.

Chase's name was quite fitting. He loved the adrenaline of speeding full-force down the hills, feeling the air brush against his fur and making the tassels on his helmet whip. Even with the intensity of a summer's day, he felt a chill trickle down his sides as he pedalled frantically. Up and down, riding a sine wave of concrete and dirt. Chemical energy into kinetic energy. Gravitational potential into fun potential. Sound and heat radiating from his body. Feeling his pressure exerted on the pedals. Watching the mechanical gears levitate his motion. Velocity. Acceleration. Torque. Angular momentum. He was a machine, a perfect system, designed for racing at high speeds through the familiar streets.

As he rode, he let his thoughts drift. A little self-reflection was always good, he supposed. He cast his mind back to those hard-working days in university, carpal tunnel in his paws as he wrote every sum and equation down as eagerly as he could. He absolutely loved studying. A part of it was pretentiousness, the feeling that he was somehow better than everyone else, but he kept those emotions inside; the fuel to his motivation. It was a long three years, but three years well spent. He left with the knowledge of all his lecturers, his brain crammed with exciting theories and a thirst for more. Application after application, he prowled the market for jobs in anything he could get his paws on: mechanics, engineering, particles, hair dryers. But he never did get a job in the physics industry.

The issue? Deep down inside, he had a burning passion for something else. He could never fully dedicate himself. He sat for hours in front of acceptance emails and interview offers. The real world was very different to school. He craved new experiences, new lessons, and new atoms upon which to build himself. Life tends to conform to chaos, so he chose to embrace it. Ever since he was a pup, he wanted to join the police force. His father was a cop, and so was his father before him. His childhood was filled with the stories of street chases and drug busts and which doughnuts were the best. Jam filled.

A few months of denial later and Chase was broke. He had student loans to pay, food to buy, and a house to rent. So, he averted his gaze from particle accelerators and settled on a nearby job as a bartender. Decent pay, decent hours--just enough to cover his bases. Over the following months, he realised he had quite a talent for mixology. He adored the chemical mixtures he could create and loved the sweet smells each new cocktail offered. But most of all, he loved the stories. Each new visitor was a new story to read, an exciting opportunity for knowledge and wisdom. It was how he met Hunter, a frequent at the tavern. They had met after a clumsy accident featuring spilt tequila and a lot of rags. The next time Hunter visited, the awkwardness gave birth to a unique inside joke, and from there friendship became romance.

He came to a stop a block away from work and parked his bike up on the rails. Two locks, for safety, one around the frame and the other around the wheel. He gave a soft smile and started walking the final stretch. As he turned the corner, a familiar sight greeted him, and a wide grin spread across his muzzle. The bar was quite old, an adapted speakeasy from the prohibition era. It still had an ornate wooden front, delicate trims cut into each joint and gentle grooves carved into the brown oak. Above the door was a large golden sign made of pretty lettering, lit up by red lights that gave it a soft shine. He sighed and turned the door.

'Chase!' squealed a recognisable voice. Luna was a tall hedgehog, well known to the locals as 'that clumsy waitress girl who spilt beer on me'. She was wearing her uniform, a black shirt, and jeans, with countless trinkets of jewellery sprawled over her ears, neck, and fingers. She smelt faintly of lavender mixed with the stodgy smell of heat and work.

'Hey, Luna. How've you been?' asked Chase as he settled his things down behind the bar.

'Awesome! I got accepted into acting school!' she said excitedly, visibly vibrating with joy as she stood next to him.

'Wow, that's fantastic! I'm proud of you!' he replied with a wide grin.

'Thank you! I promise when I'm big and famous I'll give you a shout-out. Chase Huntsman, the dog who got me here, makes a very good martini.' She stretched her hands out in front of her as if giving a presidential speech.

'Heh, when you get big and famous, I'll give all your fans a martini. Maybe it'll get named after you. Luntini?'

'Don't be ridiculous. It would be the Luny-marvellous-fizz-whizzing-tini martini,' she said.

Chase chuckled and watched as she ran off to tend to a guest. He pulled off his jacket and slung his apron on, tying it neatly at the back. He rolled up his shirt sleeves and stood in front of the beer taps, ready to serve. The bar was small and cosy, with the same complex wood trimmings on the counter and stools as at the front. It was sectioned into a lounge area with a fireplace and oversized armchairs, a restaurant area with tables and chairs, and a space for whatever felt right. Dancing, pool, beer pong. He pulled out a cloth and began cleaning the drip trays, the hints of stale beer and cider wafting up as he did so. He looked down at the sparkly gold and smiled. The light reflected from it leaving intricate silvery patches that changed as he bobbed his head.

He must've looked a fool, for when a burly bear sat opposite him, he gave a deep, throaty chortle. "It's not gonna nod back, mate," said the bear.

Chase looked up and smiled widely. "Oh, but miracles happen. Just the other day the wine bottles spoke back to me," he said. "What can I get ya?"

"What scotch you got?"

Time to shine brighter than the taps. The Shepherd racked his brains, searching in the depths for the list of whiskies he had once learned. "Well, whatever you fancy. We got Doemore, Foxwar's, Glenfinch, a few others in the back. What do you fancy?"

"Eh, I'll just take a Doemore neat, if you would."

"Certainly, sir," replied Chase with an eager grin. He turned to the rows of glass bottles behind him, scouring the shelves for that little orangey bottle of strong liquid for his beloved customer. He found it sitting near the top. He twiddled his fingers and reached up for it, then took it carefully in his paw as he pulled out a frosty glass from the fridge. He popped the stopper, slung it up, and watched as the gold streamed into the container. Perhaps he was a cocktail man at heart, but there was something special for the great world of simple spirits too.

"Here you are," he said as he pushed the scotch across the counter. The bear nodded in approval and took it gladly as he walked away into the corner to join his friends.

The night passed quickly, as it always did. Dozens of animals came, ordered, and left. He struck up a few conversations about life, fishing, whether it was pronounced gif or gif, and why the sky was blue. Normality at its finest, but far from normal.

He was just finishing up his shift when a peculiar wolf walked in glumly. The wolf was wearing an oversized hoodie, his hood pulled up over his ears, which covered most of his features. He walked over with a certain slowness that suggested a deep sadness. He might've aroused suspicion if he wasn't so gentle. Chase could sense that something was troubling the wolf and decided to stay a little longer; it was evident he was carrying a burden on his shoulders.

"Can I have a whiskey, please?" asked the wolf as he sat on a stool.

"Sure thing, pal." Chase poured him a shot of whiskey and handed it to him with a comforting smile. The wolf took it in his paws and sipped it slowly. His fur was slightly shaggy, and he looked dishevelled and scruffy, but Chase chose not to intervene. Not just yet.

Chase turned to serve another client, keeping a watchful eye on the wolf the whole time. He felt a certain duty within him to not only serve and chat but to listen and support. It made him think about how he would be as a policeman--he knew that he would be kind and gentle, no matter what. Everyone was valid of mistakes, and everyone could equally make up for them. He wanted to be that helping hand to point them in the right direction, and to enforce joy as well as the law. Sure, a mass murderer was a slightly different case, but there was always something more to a story than the plunging of a knife. As he mixed a mojito, he began to formulate a plan in his mind. He would offer the wolf another drink, and as he did so, try to get the wolf to talk. Only then could he be of assistance.

But when he heard himself being summoned over, it was not the wolf who did so, but rather a fox who had sat by him. He frowned a little. Someone had beat him to it.

"Heya," said the fox, "can we get a brandy on the rocks and a whiskey, please?"

Chase nodded and immediately began pouring them their drinks. As he did so, he couldn't help but feel a little jealous that he was no longer of any help. After all, the fox was speaking so tenderly and affectionately to the wolf that he felt there was nothing left to be said. So, when he pushed the glasses over to them, he did the least he could do.

"It's on the house."

***

When he finally got home that evening, Hunter was waiting, sitting on the stairs. It reminded him of how his dad once sat after he had snuck out back in high school.

"Where have you been? It's almost an hour later than you said!" groaned Hunter with a frown.

"I'm so sorry. I got caught up. There was an... interesting case," replied Chase. He walked over to the stairs and sat next to him, resting his head wearily on Hunter's shoulder.

"Really? Interesting how? A fight?"

"Not quite," said Chase with a small grin. "There was a wolf who came in. I'll be frank, he looked awful. Ordered a whiskey and slumped in his stool, I felt so bad. I was gonna talk to him but by the time I got there this fox came in and stole my spotlight!"

"There, there," said Hunter with a chuckle, "you can do your good deed for the day by making some popcorn instead. Turns out this movie has a sequel!"

"But I haven't seen the first one!"

The two spent the evening in front of the television, snuggled closely together in each other's embrace. A gentle breeze wafted through the window, and as Chase nuzzled into Hunter's fur, he let out a soft sigh. There was a perfect serenity in the room. He felt so at peace with his fuzzy lover, and couldn't help but wonder if, just maybe, that wolf and fox would end up the same way.

"I really hope to see them again," he said.

"You will. No one can resist your expertise in alcohol. Or maybe it's just the alcohol doing that."

Chase chuckled. But inside his chest, something felt different. There was a certain tightness squeezing his heart, and he felt guilty. He wished he could've been there for the wolf himself. He was glad that things turned out how they did, but he wanted the satisfaction of changing a life. He wanted more.

"Well, I think I'm gonna quit," he said.

The time had come for change. Distance can never be covered without velocity. Acceleration can never be achieved without change.