To say that his parents abandoning him in a strange, new town was unexpected would have been the understatement of the century. Desmond Briars Mogu was now alone in the world for the first time in his thirty-odd years of life and had been dumbstruck by the whole scenario. He was awaiting an interview for a job he hadn’t even applied for.
Sure, he hadn’t been the most appreciative son to his parents, but he stayed out of their way most of the time. He didn’t go out partying, nor did he have friends over (or even have friends, for that matter). He never listened to loud music, even during his rebellious hormonal teenage years when boys his age, in that time period, would have been blasting the likes of Linkin Park “to feel something”.
But he had been none of that. He’d dwelled in his basement bedroom, popped up to eat dinner, then disappeared again until the next time food was served. The internet was his social scene in his late teens and well into adulthood, and he couldn’t stand to be away from it for too long, even to eat. There was far too much arguing to be had with total randos online to spend around the dull humdrum that was mam and pop.
Some beasts just don’t know how to be appreciative, he sniffed, inhaling the wad of snot he’d pushed to the back of his nasal cavity using one of his eight nose tentacles. The snot slid down his pipe, hitting the back of his throat before he hacked it up and spat it into the little trash bin beside his computer, striking the side of the container with a small smack.
The aroma of coffee that permeated every square inch of the building he suddenly found himself in was almost overbearing.
One month ago…
In an act that felt more pre-meditated with every new revelation, Desmond found himself in front of the Dawning Sunrise Boarding House. A three-story building made of red brick, the corners smoothed over in some sort of stucco or plaster, painted a warm vanilla color that contrasted nicely with worn and weathered brick.
Hanging from the second-story window, having likely witnessed the whole surprising scene, was Toh Daniels. An orange tabby cat with an insufferable upbeat attitutde and optimistic outlook on EVERYTHING, reminding Desmond of the overly positive camp counselors typically seen in television shows from his youth.
Only this one existed in real life and was even worse in person!
“Well, howdy-doo, my young mole friend,” The cat said with an obnoxious tone as he ushered the tentacled mammal into the main room of the boarding house, tugging along the two suitcases.
Desmond was speechless in the “This is some fucking shit” sort of way as his eyes scanned the decor. It reminded him vividly of the weird, greasy-feeling furniture that his grandmother had all over her trailer in his youth. The weird patterned fabric on the seating, the heavy, coated curtains that you could scrape the top layer off of with a claw. He almost expected to see…
An old floorset television!
“So what kind of room were you looking to…” The tabby said as the star-nosed mole trailed off into what must have been the living room. Kneeling down in front of the Zenith CRT that was probably older than him, Desmond tapped the power button with his claw, hoping for that familiar pop and the hum that was the hallmark of such TVs.
But there was nothing.
“I see you have taken a liking to my fancy coffee table,” the cat leaned against the doorway, arms crossed.
Desmond now saw the coffee machine, the cups, and the numerous powdered and pump-top bottled creamers sitting atop the beautiful piece of hardware. If not for the vinyl tablecloth draped across it, he may have lost his shit at the lack of care.
“Does it work?” He asked.
But the cat just shrugged. “No idea. The cord was missing when I bought it, but you are more than welcome to take a look at it once we get you settled in.”
The pair sat across from each other at the desk within the small room at the end of the hall. The mole’s luggage sitting to Desmond’s right. This room had the same ancient-looking decor.
“So, just so we’re completely transparent here: Yes, your parents had contacted me before and discussed your accommodations here. That you would be coming to stay in Brickhedge this week, that you were looking to get started on your own, spread your wings, and—“
Desmond could practically hear the record scratch sound effect as Toh recounted the events that led to this moment. “Hold the fuck up,” He held up his claw, exposing the pink flesh that covered his palms. “That’s what they told you? That I ‘was ready to spread my wings?’”
Toh eyes danced to the side as if looking for another beast to back him up. They were alone. “Um, w-well, yes, that’s right. Did I hear wrong?”
Desmond laughed, and then trauma dumped the day’s events onto the cat. The lies his parents told him about the reasons for their “visit” and about the estranged relative that lived up here. How they had straight-up abandoned him, burning rubber on the pavement right outside the very building they stood in.
Toh couldn’t find the proper words once the mole ended his swear-laded tirade, but what was there was something resembling that of sympathy and mild disgust, and maybe a dash of understanding on the part of the parents.
“Uh-hem, well, that certainly does change things,” Toh started, scribbling out something on a piece of paper. “All right, so, you don’t actually have any future endeavors, then? No job or any money to survive on for the time being?” The cat’s tone lost all shreds of that bubblegum pep and was now more business-like.
“Fuck no. I don’t even know where the hell I’m at, or what state this is in.”
The pair continued their discussions for another solid hour. Toh delivering an unwelcome, long-winded backstory to the town of Brickhedge, located in—
And so Desmond sat and listened. And listened. And listened some more, going against his very nature to appeal to the whim of others as Toh went off on a historical tangent about the backstory of Brickhedge and how it was steeped in the very nature of giving and comradery.
His perseverance paid off, as mole and cat reached an ultimate agreement: Desmond would be granted a room of his choice, then Toh would cash his parents’ blank check for exactly one month’s rent. Time for the mole to get settled in and find a job, after which time he would have to pay rent and buy his own meals, should he not wish to eat with the rest of the boarders every evening.
Should the agreement not be met, Toh would simply put Desmond out on the street.
The mole called bullshit on that. Still, it was better in this case not to push his luck.
Present day, exactly one month later…
After what felt like an eternity of constant rainfall and hiding himself away in the basement bedroom of the boarding house, the mole finally made it a point to get out on the town and claim a job of his very own, and he was nervous as hell on the inside.
His expertise was in writing short, violent stories about warring political factions in a fantasy setting, not dealing with the public as his actual self. He’d only have until midnight tonight to find somewhere, anywhere, to work, and if he was going to hold on to his current digs while his new project developed, a part-time job was an absolute necessity.
The sun was shining bright from a cloudless sky. The star shone so brightly that he couldn’t dare look up at it, less the rays magnify through his thick glasses and burn his already too-sensitive-to-light eyes.
Desmond had crossed the street at the first intersection, passing a house that somehow looked halfway between being demolished and being renovated at the same time. A brown wolf worked tirelessly doing one or the other, for which he couldn’t be sure.
Across the way, rushing eastward towards who knows where, was a purple blur of speed. A fox, Desmond deduced, but a unique one at that. Had it not been for that split-second glance at her petite facial features, she could have been easily mistaken for a wolf with those big—
SMACK!
Lost in thought long enough, Desmond had not seen the tall figure that had stopped to adjust her top just a few feet away, crashing into her legs and smashing his too-sensitive nose right into the woman.
Cupping his nose and falling onto his back. Getting nailed in the nuts was preferable to this sensation, not that he’d ever been struck there. But it couldn’t have been any worse.
“Mothafuckingoddamnbitch!” He pushed a continuous stream of swears through a mesh-filtered New Jersey accent. A defense mechanism he’d developed the first year in high school after watching Godfather the first time. The simpletons that had attempted to bully him were somehow frightened of him, thinking the mole had connections to the mob somehow.
It didn’t stop the occasional “Dick Face” insults, however.
“Oh hell, I didn’t see you down there, little guy,” The voice was womanly, mature, almost exotic in tone. His eyes were watering too bad to make out the identity, not to mention his glasses had flown from his snout upon impact. “I’m sorry, here, I believe these are your glasses?”
Taking one claw off his nose, he reached for the blurred hand, and the even blurrier object held without. Recognizing the frame of his glasses, he snatched them away.
Still rubbing his nose, he blinked rapidly, trying to displace the tears, revealing a large tract of land between two large mountains. Had he been knocked into the air?!
“Most guys don’t stare directly at the twins,” She said through a smile, “But I’mma let you have that one for free.”
Pulling his eyes away from what was now clearly two large breasts, his vision moved upwards and met her goldenrod eyes. It was a lioness, a damn beautiful one at that. And not the modern idea of beauty, but a classy sort of beauty that isn’t as prominent nowadays as it was in, say, the 1950s.
She extended a hand, her black paw pads orbal, healthy with a glossy sheen even in the sunlight. “I’m sorry about that sir; here, let me help you up.”
Desmond may swear up and down that he was aromantic and asexual, but that had been twice in the span of two minutes that the sight of a female had distracted him.
And then he realized what had happened and backhanded her hand away using the claw that concealed his unique nose. Aeroace or not, Desmond WAS certain that he was a prick.
Her golden eyes opened wide, the yellow within glistening as it scanned the pink, wriggling appendage on the mole’s face.
“You’re a—“
“Fucking annoyed, that’s right.” He climbed back to his feet, trying to wipe the image of her seafoam blue cleavage and the tops of her stupid tits from his mind. Her tail was playfully snaking about, something Desmond knew was a predatory species quality that indicated something unpleasant.
Desmond didn’t believe in the predator-prey hierarchy, but his parents did, and that, unfortunately, snaked its way into his way of thinking at times.
“Listen, lady, I’m in a hurry and—“
“I’ve never seen such a…” She swallowed hard, wanting to but also not wanting to say something dirty about the mole’s unique feature. She certainly didn’t want to suck on each individual tentacle.
“Gotta go, lady! I’m late for a job interview. Bye.” Without another word, Desmond slipped through the doorway of the closest building. It’d been a lie, but he really wasn’t liking how that whole event had gone down. The way she stared at him, or the way he had stared at her breasts.
“Well, now, here I was worried you weren’t going to show up,” said a familiar voice from further in the building. The smell of coffee assaulted his senses.
And that was how Desmond Briars Mogu, found himself employed at Toh’s Beans, the local coffee shop that also just happened to be run by his landlord.
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