The Fool in the Fox: Difference between revisions
No edit summary |
added an extra bit |
||
| Line 1: | Line 1: | ||
{{Universe|Pig and Whistle}}{{byline|user=Lloyd Brunnel|author=Lloyd}}{{WIP}} | {{Universe|Pig and Whistle}}{{byline|user=Lloyd Brunnel|author=Lloyd}}{{WIP}} | ||
I poked my nose out of the mass of blankets that made up my makeshift den and took a cautious sniff. While this did nothing but find out what I already knew— that the only | I poked my nose out of the mass of blankets that made up my makeshift den and took a cautious sniff. While this did nothing but find out what I already knew— that the only scents in the apartment were those of myself and my roommate, Jonas—the instincts had to be satisfied. After confirming that it was indeed safe, I crawled out of my den and gave a quick stretch to get some kinks out of my legs and tail. Yes, that’s right, tail. | ||
Perhaps an explanation is in order. My name is Lloyd Brunnel and I’m a teefer, one of the thirty-percent or so of people who experienced the side effect known as Transformative Failure of… drat. I can never remember the full name of the acronym but I think the word “octoplasmic” fits in somewhere. Anyway, my case of TFOR was a bit high degree compared to most; I’m what’s known as a fullmorph, someone who has been changed almost completely into an animal. In my case I’m now a member of vulpes vulpes, or red fox for the layman. Sure I’ve got some lingering pieces of human in me, mostly in my throat, letting me talk (albeit with a much higher voice) but for the most part I’m a fox, complete with fur, tail, | Perhaps an explanation is in order. My name is Lloyd Brunnel and I’m a teefer, one of the thirty-percent or so of people who experienced the side effect known as Transformative Failure of… drat. I can never remember the full name of the acronym but I think the word “octoplasmic” fits in somewhere. Anyway, my case of TFOR was a bit high degree compared to most; I’m what’s known as a fullmorph, someone who has been changed almost completely into an animal. In my case I’m now a member of vulpes vulpes, or red fox for the layman. Sure I’ve got some lingering pieces of human in me, mostly in my throat, letting me talk (albeit with a much higher voice) but for the most part I’m a fox, complete with fur, tail, muzzle… you get the idea. | ||
Once I finished stretching I opened the trunk I kept near the entrance to my den and picked out what I was going to wear for the day. While my fur covered me enough to make modesty a moot issue, I still didn’t like the idea of going uncovered in public. While most fullmorphs who could wore a pair of pants or shorts in public, I preferred to go for a complete outfit. I decided on a pair of light pants and a | Once I finished stretching I opened the trunk I kept near the entrance to my den and picked out what I was going to wear for the day. While my fur covered me enough to make modesty a moot issue, I still didn’t like the idea of going uncovered in public. While most fullmorphs who could wore a pair of pants or shorts in public, I preferred to go for a complete outfit. I decided on a pair of light pants and a vest with a paw print design on it, my favored clothing motif. I also put on my collar, but not for appearances, it was a legitimate necessity. While the front of the bone-shaped tag attached to the nylon collar was blank, on the back was my emergency contact information and name in case something ever happened. This was the only way to ensure I had the info on me at all times since I didn’t always have access to pockets and, when I did, wallets and ID cards tended to fall out. It took me a minute to put the thing on though, while TFOR had left me with forepaws just dexterous enough to be used as hands, it didn’t leave me any thumbs. Fortunately, I didn’t have any problems with my glasses; I just slipped the custom frames over my peaked ears and headed for the kitchen. | ||
Jonas | Jonas wasn’t in the kitchen when I entered, but there was a plate on the table at my normal spot. I hopped up and took a look; there was a sandwich on the plate and next to it a note which read: | ||
Took you long enough to wake up, I could swear TFOR left some cat in you. | |||
I rolled my eyes at the familiar joke | I rolled my eyes at the familiar joke before continuing to read. | ||
I’ve left you a turkey sandwich since I doubt you’ll have time to get your own breakfast. You’re late for work by the way. | |||
~Jonas | |||
Late for work? I glanced over at the clock and gave an alarmed yelp when I saw the time; it was almost 10:30! I scooped up the sandwich in my muzzle before hopping off the table and dashing out the door. | |||
Luckily for me, one of the advantages to being a fox was a top land speed of around 30mp/h. While this isn’t an amazing speed by any means, it certainly meant that I could get somewhere quickly if I needed to. Since it was still early in the morning the sidewalks only had a few people on them. This made my race to work easier since I not only didn’t have to avoid people’s legs, but I wasn’t in danger of being stepped on either. As foxes aren’t exactly known for their size, I tended to be below most people’s field of vision, and someone in a crowd trodding on my tail is a very real hazard which, in the past, has led to some unpleasant incidents. My tail still curls in fright at the very mention of stiletto heels. | |||
I managed to arrive at work only thirty minutes late, bursting through the pet door at the front of the Twin Bells Bakery and practically skidding to a halt in front of Melanie Dia, my boss. Still panting from the run, I tried to apologize for being late but all that came out was a series of low barks and growls. | |||
I | Ms. Dia looked down at me and raised an eyebrow. “I take it that means ‘I’m sorry and it won’t happen again’?” | ||
I nodded eagerly, trying to calm myself down. It was one of the more unusual quirks of my change, but because of the way my vocal chords are set up it becomes impossible for me to talk whenever I’m in a heightened emotional state, including raised/lowered heartbeats or an adrenaline rush. | |||
It was at this point a customer entered the store and so Ms. Dia went behind the counter to tend to him as I moved to the side and finished regaining my voice. Once that had been accomplished, I quickly fell into my normal work routine. | |||
Most of the time I simply sat in a corner by the counter with my hind leg positioned over a silent alarm trigger in case someone attempted to rob the store, which was something Ms. Dia was quite strict about even though in the three years I’d worked at the Twin Bells I haven’t even come close to having to press it. If children came in, I would play the part of a friendly pet while their parents made their purchases free of distraction, and in the event that someone had to wait while their order was made I would strike up a conversation to keep their minds off the time. Occasionally a customer would leave behind their wallet or a credit card, and it would be my job to run after them, and at lunch I dropped by the deli down the street and brought back sandwiches for Ms. Dia and the bakers. | |||
==Note== | ==Note== | ||
Revision as of 18:56, 8 June 2009
 | Pig and Whistle story universe |
{{#ifeq: | | {{#ifeq: Lloyd | |
{{#ifeq: Lloyd Brunnel | ||
Author: Lloyd Brunnel
}} |
{{#ifeq: Lloyd Brunnel | |
Author: Lloyd |
Author: Lloyd
}}
}} |
{{#ifeq: Lloyd | |
{{#ifeq: Lloyd Brunnel | | Authors: ' |
Authors: Lloyd Brunnel
}} |
{{#ifeq: Lloyd Brunnel | |
Authors: Lloyd |
Author: Lloyd
}}
}}
}} {{#if:| — see also [[:Category:{{{category}}}|other works by this author]]}}
{{#if:Work in progress.png|}}
 | This story is a work in progress. |
{{#ifeq:|Help||}}
I poked my nose out of the mass of blankets that made up my makeshift den and took a cautious sniff. While this did nothing but find out what I already knew— that the only scents in the apartment were those of myself and my roommate, Jonas—the instincts had to be satisfied. After confirming that it was indeed safe, I crawled out of my den and gave a quick stretch to get some kinks out of my legs and tail. Yes, that’s right, tail.
Perhaps an explanation is in order. My name is Lloyd Brunnel and I’m a teefer, one of the thirty-percent or so of people who experienced the side effect known as Transformative Failure of… drat. I can never remember the full name of the acronym but I think the word “octoplasmic” fits in somewhere. Anyway, my case of TFOR was a bit high degree compared to most; I’m what’s known as a fullmorph, someone who has been changed almost completely into an animal. In my case I’m now a member of vulpes vulpes, or red fox for the layman. Sure I’ve got some lingering pieces of human in me, mostly in my throat, letting me talk (albeit with a much higher voice) but for the most part I’m a fox, complete with fur, tail, muzzle… you get the idea.
Once I finished stretching I opened the trunk I kept near the entrance to my den and picked out what I was going to wear for the day. While my fur covered me enough to make modesty a moot issue, I still didn’t like the idea of going uncovered in public. While most fullmorphs who could wore a pair of pants or shorts in public, I preferred to go for a complete outfit. I decided on a pair of light pants and a vest with a paw print design on it, my favored clothing motif. I also put on my collar, but not for appearances, it was a legitimate necessity. While the front of the bone-shaped tag attached to the nylon collar was blank, on the back was my emergency contact information and name in case something ever happened. This was the only way to ensure I had the info on me at all times since I didn’t always have access to pockets and, when I did, wallets and ID cards tended to fall out. It took me a minute to put the thing on though, while TFOR had left me with forepaws just dexterous enough to be used as hands, it didn’t leave me any thumbs. Fortunately, I didn’t have any problems with my glasses; I just slipped the custom frames over my peaked ears and headed for the kitchen.
Jonas wasn’t in the kitchen when I entered, but there was a plate on the table at my normal spot. I hopped up and took a look; there was a sandwich on the plate and next to it a note which read:
Took you long enough to wake up, I could swear TFOR left some cat in you.
I rolled my eyes at the familiar joke before continuing to read.
I’ve left you a turkey sandwich since I doubt you’ll have time to get your own breakfast. You’re late for work by the way. ~Jonas
Late for work? I glanced over at the clock and gave an alarmed yelp when I saw the time; it was almost 10:30! I scooped up the sandwich in my muzzle before hopping off the table and dashing out the door. Luckily for me, one of the advantages to being a fox was a top land speed of around 30mp/h. While this isn’t an amazing speed by any means, it certainly meant that I could get somewhere quickly if I needed to. Since it was still early in the morning the sidewalks only had a few people on them. This made my race to work easier since I not only didn’t have to avoid people’s legs, but I wasn’t in danger of being stepped on either. As foxes aren’t exactly known for their size, I tended to be below most people’s field of vision, and someone in a crowd trodding on my tail is a very real hazard which, in the past, has led to some unpleasant incidents. My tail still curls in fright at the very mention of stiletto heels.
I managed to arrive at work only thirty minutes late, bursting through the pet door at the front of the Twin Bells Bakery and practically skidding to a halt in front of Melanie Dia, my boss. Still panting from the run, I tried to apologize for being late but all that came out was a series of low barks and growls.
Ms. Dia looked down at me and raised an eyebrow. “I take it that means ‘I’m sorry and it won’t happen again’?”
I nodded eagerly, trying to calm myself down. It was one of the more unusual quirks of my change, but because of the way my vocal chords are set up it becomes impossible for me to talk whenever I’m in a heightened emotional state, including raised/lowered heartbeats or an adrenaline rush.
It was at this point a customer entered the store and so Ms. Dia went behind the counter to tend to him as I moved to the side and finished regaining my voice. Once that had been accomplished, I quickly fell into my normal work routine.
Most of the time I simply sat in a corner by the counter with my hind leg positioned over a silent alarm trigger in case someone attempted to rob the store, which was something Ms. Dia was quite strict about even though in the three years I’d worked at the Twin Bells I haven’t even come close to having to press it. If children came in, I would play the part of a friendly pet while their parents made their purchases free of distraction, and in the event that someone had to wait while their order was made I would strike up a conversation to keep their minds off the time. Occasionally a customer would leave behind their wallet or a credit card, and it would be my job to run after them, and at lunch I dropped by the deli down the street and brought back sandwiches for Ms. Dia and the bakers.
Note
The main purpose of this story is to explain a bit about my avatar and introduce him to the Pig and Whistle Bar. This section will be removed when the story is finished, and please keep in mind that any name in this story is subject to change at any given time. {{#ifeq:Animal | | | }}{{#ifeq:full form | | | }}{{#ifeq:Fox | | | }}