The Floor Walker (HH)
#49 of Hockey Hunk Season 6
The Floor Walker (HH)
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Hello, and welcome once again to The Hockey Hunk! It's been a few weeks, sadly, but now I'm back, and hope to stick to the once-a-week schedule as usual. At least I've been writing plenty of other stuff, which is a small mercy in regards to the Hockey Hunk situation, but oh well. Hope you've been enjoying the other stuff I've put out, and I hope to see many of you enjoying this story now, and reading your comments as well - they do keep me going when the black dog barks. But now...enjoy this story!
^^
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"Do you have a Hungarian phrasebook?"
_ _
Say what?
The beaver looked dead pan serious.
"Excuse me?" I cleared my throat.
"I would like to buy a Hungarian phrasebook," he blinked his beady eyes at me.
"Ah...yes..." my tail painted a number 4 behind me, "yes, we do have phrase books...ah...Mason! Are you free? "
I waved my paw as I called for him, and got a mild look from the wolf who was lingering nearby.
"Yeah," the wolf said.
"Mason, could you please take this customer to the 'Particular Parlances' section and look up the Hungarian phrasebook, it should be in the Finno-Ugric subsection, under the Esperanto shelf."
"Uh, okay," he rumbled, "I'll show you around."
"Okay, thanks," the beaver spoke to me before he turned towards the wolf, whom then led him over into the back of the store.
*swat*
Oh dear! The long member smacking against my posterior was certainly not something quite as pleasant as, for example, Victor Holden's manly prod, but instead, this fuzzy appendage belonged to a certain female of cougarine persuasion, with a particularly prehensile tail.
"Yes, Miss Pitt?" I asked. "Boss?"
Marge pursed her lips.
"Don't you dare to call me that, it's enough that young mister Lyndon keeps calling me that!" she sneered at me.
I pouted.
"But I just wanted to be polite, and give a good impression."
Marge shook her head.
"Oh you've lost that chance already, Rory," she clicked her tongue. "Your depraved nature is well known to me and everyone else in this store. Perhaps you'll still be able to fool young Mr. Lyndon but..."
I chuckled.
"Oh I'm sure he already has an inkling too," I replied.
"To the various personal issues your tortured soul hides underneath your stern, yet golden-toned, surprisingly sensual exterior," Marge mused.
I raised my brow.
"Are you sure you took your pre-natal vitamins this morning?" I stated. "I read that the lack of some vitamins can cause bizarre dementia."
Marge's tail danced behind her like a snake about to strike.
"Where'd you read that, in 'The Lady Cougar Who Mistook His Lion Co-Worker for a Friend?'" she suggested.
"I'm not sure I'm getting the reference here," I confessed my defeat.
"You should check for it in the 'Popular Science' section under 'Authors who had 'Kick Me Signs on their backs in high school but who have turned being geek into big cash and popular culture presence'," Marge replied.
"I don't think we have such a long titles here," I chuffed happily.
"It's on the shelf between Hawking and Neil deGrasse Tyson," she replied.
"I'll check during the lunch hour," I said. "Can't be behind my times, can I, if I'm going to be running a bookstore."
"Exactly!" she smirked. "We are at the forefront of the book retail industry, we must be ready to react to every single whim of fancy by the book-purchasing American public."
"Should I pop by the 'Lyrical Corner' to fetch some trench poetry?" I suggested.
Marge rubbed her chin.
"Hmmm...you in a uniform..."
I wanted to puff out my chest and stand in 'tenshoon!' at the thought. I might've not have been in the most buff shape, but throw me some fatigues and I could be persuaded to play the drill instructor a while...do a bed inspection...dig a foxhole...firing exercises...some very particular pushups...
Jesus, Mary and St. Peter almighty...this wasn't a good time to let Rory Jr. dictate my thoughts, especially since Marge might just smell it with that super-charged nose of hers, courtesies of her pregnancy. It was pain enough to make sure my balls were extra carefully washed so that she didn't take a whiff every time I walked past, let alone to imagine how her hormonal self would react to the scent of a peppy lion-boner.
"You better buy one for Goggy and enact your fantasies with him, I think," I told her, "I don't want to end up in a duel or something with him over your honor."
Marge fluttered her eyes.
"You'd duel for my honor?"
"But only with a pen," I said, "you know, since it is mightier than the sword."
"Bowler-Lytton," Marge winked. "That's an easy one."
"Cough."
I think both of us jumped guiltily at that noise. Looking to the left from my vantage point and to the right from Marge, there was a guy wearing a pink and green plaid shirt, a baby blue bow tie, black jeans and a surprisingly loud white leather belt. The eyes that looked at me did so accusingly through a pair of square, thick-rimmed glasses, and the iPod earplug cables formed a kind of a halo about the bull mastiff's muzzle.
"When you're done with your petty one-upping with academic tidbits of information, could I get these books checked out?" the dog said and dropped a few paperbacks and an art book about Seurat onto the service counter. "If you'd oblige."
Even Marge was at a loss for words. I was glad I managed to get my paws moving, and to direct some energy into my cheeks to draw my lips up into the classic happyhappy smile.
Of, course, sir," I said.
I checked the books in at warp speed, bagged them and slipped in a few discount vouchers before ushering the hipster client away with many 'thankyous' and 'comeagains'. I didn't dare to look at Marge before the door had slammed shut behind the dog who was safely out on the street.
"Ahem..." I cleared my throat.
She didn't look particularly stern. Perhaps she was even unhappy that she'd been caught off guard as well. Talk about being the vanguard of retail if we were ambushed this easily by hipsters bearing books about positive thinking.
"Well that didn't look, did it?"
"We were absolutely terrible," I said.
"At least you didn't offer him a customer happiness questionnaire to fill out," she replied, shooting daggers from her eyes.
"We were freshly out," I happyhappy-smiled, hopefully.
"He could still write a bad review for us somewhere online," she said, "you know it's word by internet that counts today."
"Hmm...so you think if he posts on Facebook that our store sucks, nobody come here to get the books they'd get cheaper online anyway..."
Marge shrugged.
"We sell something better than cheap prices," she said, "we sell...ambience!"
She waved her paw.
"The ability to browse books, to find new ones at a bargain, to be surprised positively, to breathe in the smell of 10,000 fresh new tomes.." she inhaled with an exaggerated loudness, "the feel of a new book, the smell, the rustle of paper, the plastic bag..."
"It's still pretty convenient when the USP guy knock at your door and shoves it to your paws after you sign it up," I said.
"Pffffft," she hissed. "Just think about poor Mason driving a van all around town delivering books..."
That kinda sounded fun, getting a knock from the wolf on the door. Especially if he'd recruit Haakon as assistance muscle for the venture. They'd make a fun double team, I'm sure. Caps and uniforms...
Dang. The thoughts really seemed to be going into that direction today. It'd been bad enough when some guy showed up in a long leather coat and I'd been reminded of Cobb's ridiculously tight leather pants and the effect they had on everyone, including me, or at least one part of me.
"Speaking of which..." I noted.
We both snapped into attention with Mason's arrival with his customer, the badger, who was now clutching a book in his paws.
"And it seems like you found it!" I beamed to the beaver.
"Yes," he said.
And that was all.
"Right...let me check it out for you," I smiled, "if you'd just..."
He offered me the book, which I ran through the cash register, bagged it, accepted the credit card, and sent him happily on his way.
"it's a busy day isn't it?" I told Marge once the beaver was gone.
"Relatively so," she mused, "it's past noon. Things are picking up."
"Ding!"
Oh, speaking of which, by having a certain Haakon walk into the shop...maybe to do some picking up of wolves of his own...
"Hey, everyone!" he waved to me and Marge, the gesture as shiny as his smile, glasses and his ear ring.
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Thank you for reading my story! I hope you had a fun time with the story, and I look forward to your comments. As always, remember that votes, faves and watches will help others to find these stories to enjoy as well.
See you next Monday, I hope!