From: Plonq Subject: Small Packages (another story) Date: July 26, 1998 2:27 AM Parts of this story are based on reality. One of my coworkers *did* die last week -- proof that the worst things often happen to the nicest people. :-( Small Packages (another Plonq story) This story is devoted to the memory of "Albert" -- a good person, taken before his time. 8<--- cut here --- "JCL is the tool of the Devil," growled Plonq. He slammed the cover on his "JCL For Dummies" book and glowered at the screen. The error response the system had returned was less than helpful, and not for the first time, he wondered if the mainframe was a female. The message was a computer equivalent of, "If you don't know what's wrong, I'm certainly not going to tell you." The snow leopard chewed on the end of his favorite pen and began paging through his source code again, trying to find the elusive error. The horrid mainframe editor he was using did little to calm his fraying temper, especially with the system response as slow as it was this particular morning. It was some moments before the feline became aware of the presence in his cubicle. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Giblet standing quietly just outside the cubicle. The little otter morph was holding a file folder in his arms, and staring past Plonq at something outside the window. The silence was so unusual from the normally garrulous otter that Plonq felt compelled to speak. "Urm, you're a little early for coffee," he said, pulling the chewed pen from his mouth. At first he did not think that the other morph had heard him, but the otter's eyes presently shifted their focus onto the snow leopard. "I think I'm going to quit," said Giblet airily. "Quit?" echoed Plonq in disbelief. "I mean, you've been fighting tooth and nail for years to keep your job here. What do you mean you're going to quit?" The otter shrugged his dark shoulders and changed his grip on the OCS records he was clutching. "I dunno, I just don't think there's a future here for me," he said tersely. Plonq could literally smell the tension radiating from his friend, and he quickly stood and took the file folder out of the other's hands. He lay the file on the edge of his desk and turned back to the otter. "Let's go for coffee," he said softly. The other shrugged, but fell into step beside the cat morph as they walked toward the elevator. "This isn't about Albert, is it?" The whole office was still shaken over the incident with Albert, a genial bear morph who had worked over in the car-control department. The bear had collapsed with a seizure late the previous week, and though he had apparently recovered by the time the ambulance arrived to take him away, he died later that night. A gentle fur, taken before his time. He had only been Plonq's age. "Well, no. It's, uh..." he cast an accusing glance at Plonq out of the corner of his eye while they stood by the elevator. "You haven't read your email yet today, have you?" "Urm," said the snow leopard guiltily. "I can't say that I've entirely read it -- why?" The elevator arrived with a pleasant "ding" and the two morphs stood aside to let a cluster of furs emerge from the car. The otter moved to the rear of the car, with his back to the corner, his hands in his pockets and his dark tail wrapped around his legs like a thick stole. He shrugged again and sighed without uttering a word. "Come on, what's bugging you?" wheedled Plonq. He scanned his pass-card and punched the button for the main floor, then moved back to the other back corner of the car and mirrored his friend's stance -- albeit the end of his tail was twitching in consternation. "I didn't get that friggin' job," blurted Giblet. "They gave it to some secretary from the eighth floor if you can believe it." The cat morph was flabbergasted. "That EDI job?" he asked incredulously, "but you were a shoe-in for it. I mean, you've been working it temp for over a year now." "Ya, well, she's got one of those mail-order business admin certificates," said Giblet with a caustic laugh. "What do years of experience and dedication have when compared to that? I'm just some loser who wasted his time finishing high school." "That's not fair," yowled Plonq indignantly. "You practically built that job while you've been on it! You deserved that job! Everybody thinks so!" "Tell that to the selection committee," said Giblet bitterly. "Then you can listen to their happy horse-shit about affurmative action, and exciting new directions for the company. You know what's worse? They want me to *train* her, and stick around to help her during the 'transition period' as they call it." "Well I just don't think it's fair," growled Plonq. The two morphs rode in silence for awhile until the elevator arrived at the main floor. The snow leopard held the doors for his friend, and walked with him in silence to the cafeteria. Noting that the otter had forgotten his coffee mug, Plonq sprung for two of the industrial-sized cups and offered one to his friend. "Let's take them outside -- I need a smoke," muttered Giblet. The snow leopard nodded mutely, and followed the otter out into the courtyard. The courtyard was a large area of green space in front of the office building where the two morphs worked. It was pleasantly treed, and had a fountain at its centre, which burbled cheerily during the summer months. During much of the warm season, live performers would provide entertainment on the front steps of the building, but today it was blissfully quiet beside the fountain. The two morphs sat with their backs to the water, watching a steady stream of furs enter and leave the building. "You're not serious.. about quitting," said Plonq tentatively. The otter held his coffee in both hands and sipped it thoughtfully before answering. "Why shouldn't I? What's in it for me? I pour myself into this company and what do I get back? I get screwed." "Ya, but if you quit, who will I sit with for lunch every day?" asked the snow leopard. Giblet put his cup on the bench between them and fumbled with his cigarettes. He paused, and looked askance at the feline. "That's right, you still owe me lunch from last week," he said. He pulled out a Camel and was about to put the pack back in his pocket when, on a whim, he offered it to Plonq. "Want one?" The cat hesitated momentarily, and then reached for the offered pack. Giblet gawked, and pulled the cigarettes away again quickly. "You don't smoke!" he said accusingly. "Well, I kinda quit," agreed Plonq, his hand still out. "You're kidding," said the otter in amazement. "I've never seen you smoke. Are you sure? I mean, you can have one if you really want." "Are you still offering?" asked Plonq. "Omigod, you're serious!" said the other fur. He pulled out a cigarette and handed it tentatively to the feline. "I gotta see this." Plonq jammed the filter between his teeth and snatched the lighter out of the otter's hand. "What have you gotta see? You've never seen anyone smoke before?" demanded Plonq in a teasing tone. "I've never seen *you* smoke before," said Giblet. He continued to watch in amazement as the snow leopard lit the cigarette and took a long draw from it. The expected coughing fit never came. "I don't do this very often," confided the cat. "I still get a buzz from these things." The otter giggled. "I just.. oh, never mind," he said. The two furs sat in silence for a few minutes, finishing their cigarettes, and enjoying the coffee and sunshine. Plonq finished his first, and tossed the spent butt into the flower beds. "So you're not really going to quit, are you?" he asked. "Probably not," said the otter with a sigh. "Why? What's it matter to you if I quit?" "Well, I'd miss you," said Plonq. "You're about the only fur in the office who likes to hang out with me during my breaks." "Patheticness loves company," he said with a little otter chuckle. "This is about all the social life I have," he confided. "If it wasn't for work, I wouldn't get out at all. What about you? What do you do when you're not here?" The snow leopard picked up his coffee cup and swirled the contents, watching the vile brew churn in the cup. "Not much," he admitted. "I go home and sit at the computer most of the time." "You're not seeing anyone?" asked Giblet. "Not that I'm trying to pry or anything," he added quickly, "but there must be a significant other fur in your life." "I guess I'm just too choosy," said Plonq, shrugging his shoulders indifferently. "I don't think I want to associate with any snow leopardess who would be desperate enough to settle for the likes of me." "Don't sell yourself short," admonished the otter, giving his friend a playful punch in the arm. "You've got a lot going for you: you're not bad looking as snow leopards go, you're intelligent, have a nice personality, a good job..." "I'm socially inept," mewled Plonq. "And I'm short, and dumpy, and have no personality. I mean, there's a good reason why I'm still single at my age." "There you go again," said the other morph, shaking his head in exasperation. "With an attitude like that, it's no wonder you're still single. Maybe you should broaden your outlook a bit, I mean, good things come in small packages too. There's plenty of otters out there who would probably find you kinda cute." "An otter?" said Plonq, raising an eyebrow skeptically and glancing over at his friend. "Well, ya," said Giblet defensively. "There's nothing wrong with otters!" "And why should I be taking *your* advice?" asked the snow leopard. "You're don't exactly have cute otters throwing themselves at you." The otter gave a small "yerf" and became very attentive toward his coffee for a few moments. "There's reasons for that," he said evasively. "But what's your excuse? I mean, maybe you're fishing in the wrong pond. I think.. I mean, if I was an otter girl, I think I'd find you very attractive. Maybe I should drag you off to one of those otter clubs with me. What are you doing this weekend?" "An otter club? I'm not much of a social animal..." hedged the snow leopard. "Well, forget the club then. Maybe we can just get together, drink beer and play cards or something. I'll whip up one of my famous curry chicken dishes." "Mmm.. curry.." said the snow leopard, licking his muzzle. "Well, I didn't really have anything planned," he added pensively. The cat may have been a little more cautious in accepting the otter's invitation if he had noticed the intensity of the gaze with which the other morph was watching him. As they gathered up their empty cups and walked back toward the building, Plonq could not help but notice that the otter had a renewed bounce to his step. Apparently the break and coffee had done him some good. As he the other fur bound ahead to fetch the elevator, the cat decided that an otter would not be such a bad choice -- they were kinda cute. "It's too bad Giblet wasn't born a 'she' otter," he thought wistfully. Later, when Plonq was again struggling to debug his code, the mail skunk stopped by his cubicle. "I hear you're heading up to Giblet's place for beer this weekend," said the perky little skunk. "Uh, ya," said Plonq, slightly mortified that his weekend plans seemed to be making the run of the office. The skunk scratched the side of her muzzle in puzzlement. "Funny," she said amiably, "I didn't think he drank." * Plonq