From: Snowcat <snowcat@total.net>
To: David Cleary <dcleary@fas.harvard.edu>
Subject: <sigh> Yet *another* Plonq story.
Date: Monday, April 27, 1998 8:57 PM

I'm sorry... people keep saying things that trigger inspiration.  This one
isn't quite as inspired as some of the other ones, but it's got far more
inside jokes than any of the others... and unless I do a bit of editing on
it, I don't suppose I will be posting it to the mailing list :-)


8<---- snip ----

In everyfur's life there is one defining thing which cries out to the world,
"This am I!" In Plonq's life that thing is beer.

"Mmmm... beer..." said the little morph. His breath fogged the glass and his
nose left a small smear as he pressed his muzzle to the window, watching the
patrons within the pub. The snow leopard's eyes tracked a little hedgehog
morph as it darted from table to table, serving tall mugs of frothy brew.
The sight of the beer seemed to suck the moisture out of the cat's mouth, and
almost against his will he found himself licking his nose and tugging at the
front door.

He paused, recalling in a dim recess of his mind that one needs money to buy
beer. He stepped quickly back from the door and began checking his pockets.
Lint... lint... lint... "Ack!" As an afterthought he pulled out his wallet
and searched that too. Lint... and an old ticket that bore the script, "Keep
This Coupon". Plonq had no idea whence he had got the coupon, but he
carefully put it back.

Just as dejection was preparing to set in, he found his credit card.

"Oooh," he said happily. Even better - the beer would be free for a month!
With his Americat Express card clutched firmly in hand and a determined gleam
in his little feline eyes, he opened the door and strode purposefully into
the tavern.

The air of the little pub carried the rich smells of beer and fresh nachos,
and alive with the buzz and churr of furry voices in earnest conversation and
laughter. Although it had long seen better days, the hardwood floor of the
English-style tavern was well maintained and sliver-free. Most of the floor
space was taken up by round, hardwood tables and comfortable chairs
upholstered in worn, but lush red velvet. There were a few square feet of
floor space in one corner cleared of tables to accommodate dancers, but today
a Karaoke machine and its bored lupine operator occupied the area.

Plonq scouted the tables from the doorway looking for a vacant seat, and
finally opted for an available stool by the north wall. He seated himself
next to a large warthog morph, who he greeted with a cheery,

"Hakuna Matata!"

"Fuck off," replied the warthog without even breaking rhythm as it pounded
back another snoutful of beer. The snow leopard was taken aback, but before
he could voice an angry retort, the perky little waiter distracted him by
slapping a coaster down in front of him and enthusing,

"Hi! My name's Soni - er, Brad and I'll be your waiter this afternoon.  What
can I interest you in?"

Plonq blinked at the little blue hedgehog.

"Don't I know you from somewhere?" he mewled.

"No!" snapped the other morph. "You've obviously mistaken me for somebody
else." The snow leopard was not so easily convinced.

"I'm sure I know you," he said, scratching his head pensively. "In a video
game or something..." The little hedgehog looked both ways furtively and
waved the snow leopard closer.

"Officially, I'm not who you probably think I am," he said in a low voice.
"Unofficially, don't *ever* let yourself get typecast into a role. Look at
me! A guy does a couple little gigs in a video game and he gets cast for
life. Even Yerf gave me the boot.  Yerf!  If I ever find that agent of mine,
and that slut Sally..." From the way he was wringing his bar rag, it was
pretty obvious what he would do. "Anyway, don't mention it again or I'll
break your kneecaps. Now what can I get you from the bar?"

"What have you got on tap?" asked Plonq, trying to control his pre-beer
drool.

"We've got Red Dog, Black Wolf, Wildcat and Horse Piss," said the hedgehog.

"Horse Piss?" said the snow leopard in disbelief.

"Well, Budweiser if you must," said the little blue morph snidely.

"Ew," responded Plonq.  The horse piss had actually sounded more appealing.
"I would like a pint of Wildcat and something to eat."  He glanced over at
the tray of crawly things in front of the warthog morph.  "Something other
than what he's having," he mewled.

"Don't knock it," grunted the warthog, "dis place has the best pub grub
around."

'Fish and chips," said the cat morph decisively.  "Double the fish, hold the
chips and batter.  Oh, and please don't cook it."

"A pint of beer," said the hedgehog, scribbling on his pad, "and one dead,
raw fish."

"Two..." began Plonq, but his waiter was already gone in a streak of blue.
He sighed and within moments his short feline attention span took over.  He
glanced over at the Karaoke machine where the wolf morph was playing with the
wireless microphones, dancing them around on top of the laser disk player.
The little morph rose from his stool and wove his way through the tables to
the corner of the bar.

"Do you have anything by the Beatles?" he asked politely.

"Never heard of 'em," answered the wolf gruffly.

"Oh," said Plonq in disappointment.  "How about Stones?"

"Nope."

"Zepplin?"

"Sorry."

"Nusrat Fateh Ali Kahn?"

The wolf hesitated.

"Which song did you have in mind?"

"Mast Nazroon Se Allah Bachhae?" said Plonq hopefully.

"Uh," said the wolf as he dug through his stack of laser discs.  He pulled
one out and grunted.  "Is the extended dance mix okay?"

Plonq nodded his approval, and after only a few minutes of technical
difficulties the wolf had the disc queued and ready to run.  The music
swelled, and the little morph began belting out heartfelt lyrics in his best
snow leopard tenor.  He'd barely started into the second verse, however, when
he felt a tap in the small of his back.  "Hrm?"

He turned to find the hedgehog waiter standing behind him, clutching a
pitcher of beer.

"All the furs in the bar chipped in to buy you this," said the waiter.

"Ooh!" said Plonq in delight, reaching for the pitcher.  The blue morph
pulled it away and added,

"The proviso being that you don't sing any more."

"Oh," said the cat.  The music abruptly stopped, followed by the sound of a
wolf morph snapping a disc into tiny pieces.  "Ack!"  Well, beer was beer.
He took the offered pitcher and wound his way back to his barstool, where the
warthog was still munching its grubs and swilling Budweiser.

"They gave me free beer," said Plonq.

"Fuck off," replied the warthog.

* Plonq