"Okay people, listen up," the weredog chef called out to those around him in the kitchen of the Elders' Council building. "Tachibana wants dinner served at 7, because they're about to take what will hopefully be the final vote on whatever they've been debating about all day. After all the meal clean up is done, you two," the anthro-canine said, pointing at Brian Walker and his girlfriend Patricia Monet, "can go home. The rest of us are going to stay on for awhile and provide refreshments for any Elders who stay after dinner that want to kick back and let their fur or whatever down for awhile, if you know what I mean."
Everyone knew that after such a long and stressful meeting, whichever Elders wanted some fun would find it in the furry arms of the more adult volunteers, who obviously weren't going to arrive until after dinner, depending upon how this impending vote turned out.
"It's after 6 now," Patricia pointed out to her boyfriend. "I've got to get ready to serve," she added, grabbing her apron from where she left it before they started tackling their homework that afternoon. Then she lowered her voice and whispered in Brian's ear, "Did you still want me to cover while you..."
The wereotter simply nodded his head affirmatively, kissed his werebeaver girlfriend, and then snuck out of the kitchen to attend to a matter that had been on his mind all afternoon.
DOWNSTAIRS IN A SUB-BASEMENT of the Elders' headquarters, about level with the bottom of the freshwater swimming pool maintained for aquatic weres, were the holding cells for prisoners.
Most past "guests" had either been already released or sent on to a more secure, were-centric facility to serve out their prison sentences, but one cell was still occupied, for the man inside had yet to stand trial, considering all the other stuff that had been happening in Moon Lake lately.
There, after getting permission from the guard on duty at the main entrance to this secure area to enter because of who he was, Brian Walker once again faced the one man he hated most in all the world.
His biological father.
"Hello... father," the wereotter said coldly, staring at the older were.
George Walker, in his fursona, was laying on the lone cot in the room staring at the ceiling, apparently without a care in the world. He turned and saw who was in front of his cell, then sat up as a smile crossed his face.
"Hello son. You just missed dinner down here. If I knew you were coming..." and then he mockingly shrugged his shoulders. "Guess you're as happy as a clam at high tide since your little trick about having me declared legally dead worked. If it wasn't for that, I'd have no reason to ever come back to Moon Lake."
"Oh, I can think of one reason. Or about a million and a half little reasons, last time I checked," Brian said, while staring at the man who's sperm was responsible for his existence.
"A million and a half? What's all that about?" George asked.
"As if you don't know," snarled Brian in return. "Especially since you left without obtaining an official divorce decree first, Mom was told she's legally responsible for your debt after you begged, borrowed, or stole from whoever or whatever you could, since everything was in both your names. Remember cleaning out the household bank accounts? Maxing out the credit cards and taking whatever was hockable that wasn't nailed down when you took off with that floozy, leaving mom with all that debt and a young son to raise by herself?"
"A million and a half?" George asked, a bit confused.
"That's the outstanding debt, compounded by the current interest rates. Remember, nowadays the law favors the businesses and the banks, not the victims."
George Walker simply whistled.
"That's your only response?" Brian asked in disbelief.
"What do you want me to say?"
"Just out of curiosity, why you did it would be interesting to hear."
"Why?" George asked in return. "I'm already tried and convicted, as far as you're concerned."
"Can you blame me?" Brian snapped back. "Mom's had to work two jobs practically every day since as far back as I can remember, because of you. It's been weeks since she's had a day off totally to herself, without having to go to at least one of her jobs, because of you. We're always a payment or two behind on something, because of you. We—"
"Okay. I get the message. Because of me," George snarled. "But have you ever wondered about my side of things?"
"What's there to say?" Brian wondered in return. "You got too horny, found a piece of willing tail, and took off because you didn't want to be tied down to your husband and father duties any more."
George Walker looked at his son, then shook his head. "Other than the fact that your mom wasn't putting out for me like she used to because she was too busy raising you, and her folks never liked me or supported us because of their hatred for me, that's pretty much it," he confessed.
"Did you ever help with the raising? Did you ever try being nice to her parents?" Brian asked in return.
"At times," said his father, as the older wereotter got up and approached the cell bars. "I tried to make nice with her folks, but most of the time they wouldn't even talk to me, thinking Emily, your mother, married beneath her station, whatever the hell that means. I worked hard to provide for you and her, so I wasn't always around because of my job. Then when I was home..."
"She was tired. You expected her to take care of the house, raise me, clean your clothes, have dinner on the table by the time you got home, and still want to have sex before you went to bed?"
"A man has rights."
"Do you know what day, let alone year this is? That attitude started fading away in the 1960s."
"Don't get all preachy with me. Even if I lived up to your ideals of what I should of been, that still wouldn't of changed how her family reacted to me," George protested.
"I'll never know. Mom says the day you split, her parents said you—and I quote—finally showed your true fur coloring and dropped her like a hot potato. Mom hasn't had any contact with her family that I'm aware of since then."
The two weres were silent for a bit.
Then George asked, "Just how the hell do I get out of here?"
"Do you happen to have a million and a half dollars?" Brian asked in return.
"Since you're the one who found me, you know I didn't even before you had me legally declared dead."
"Well, the lawyer representing us is going to insist on full restitution be part of your sentence, so until you can pay back the debt you created..."
"You think you're so smart with your computer and everything..." George began.
Brian Walker just stared at his estranged father.
"You're more like me than you know. You'll never be happy with just one woman. If you haven't started already, you'll go through a string of girlfriends, and then even after you think you've found the one, you'll never be able to keep it in your sheath!"
"That's where you're wrong father. I have found The One, and I intend to spend the rest of my life with her, once I ask for her paw in marriage and she says yes," replied Brian, not mentioning his previous plan to be a were-gigolo, before being shown the error of his ways and meeting Patricia.
"It'll never happen," said George.
Brian made a honking sound and then said, "Wrong, but thanks for playing How Not To Ruin Your Life."
"Don't be so smug boy. Just wait until you approach your hundredth birthday and have a kid or two to support," replied his father.
"Life may be a struggle, but I come from a long line of survivors, on my mother's side," Brian said proudly. "By the way, I noticed the floozy you were with when I found you wasn't the one you left Moon Lake with. What happened?"
George Walker just stared at his son, an angry expression on his wereotter face.
"No comment?"
His estranged father just flipped Brian the "one fingered peace sign", and then went back to his cot, where he laid on his side with his back to him.
"You're usual response. For what it's worth, have a good life," said Brian, as he turned to leave.
But what neither Walker knew was that they were not alone in the holding area.
Besides the guard stationed nearby to keep an eye on things, there was someone hiding at the other end of the corridor who had overheard the entire conversation.
Poor Brian, thought Patricia, having permission to travel in the prison area via the service entrance because she was the one who brought the prisoner dinner earlier.
I knew he and his mother had it bad, but not THAT bad. But he wants to marry me someday! she realized, turning to head back upstairs without being discovered by her boyfriend.
Mrs. Patricia Walker. Sounds good to me, she thought.
Reaching the kitchen before he did, she spotted Brian returning.
Without a word, the werebeaver walked over, placed her arms lovingly around her boyfriend, and gave him a kiss.
"Not that I don't mind, but what was that for?" Brian asked, once their lips parted.
"Thought you needed it. I know you always have a rough time dealing with your father."
"He's only that biologically. Any chance he had otherwise got blown long ago," replied Brian, looking lovingly at her. "Do you know—"
But he never got a chance to finish that statement as the weredog began yelling for the servers to start bringing dinner out to the Elders.
"I love you," Patricia whispered in Brian's ear, giving him a kiss on the cheek, before going with the others to help serve the meal.
Brian just smiled as he watched the werebeaver walk out of the kitchen, then went to start tackling the dirty pots and pans waiting for him.