From: Plonq Subject: Re: Dear Plonq ... (hello.. and a tail of woe) Date: Sunday, February 08, 1998 6:57 PM Wanderer wrote in message ... >Dear Plonq, Plonq blinks. "Oooh. A letter addressed to me!" The little morph doesn't get many letters, and he decides to steam it open carefully so that he can save the envelope for his collection. Fortunately anotherfur intercepts him on the way to the computer room with the tea kettle and gives him a quick lecture on the workings of email. Abashed, the little morph hands over the kettle and shuffles back to the computer room. Acting on the instructions of the otherfur, he reaches for the mouse (which he knows, because it's clearly marked with a sticky-tape lable that reads, "NOT A REAL MOUSE - DO NOT EAT"). >Welcome to that wonderfully interesting (and sometimes "interesting"), >portion of Usenet's geography called "alt.fan.furry". I apologise for not >welcoming you sooner, but things have been so frazzled where I am that I >honestly didn't think you were new.:> Well, I am and I ain't (How's that for obfuscation?). I've been lurking for a long time, but I don't post very often. When I *did* post, it was under the name "Snowcat" -- a moniker I subsequently dropped when I finally (angelic chorus) bumbled my way onto FurryMuck and learned that it was already taken. So I morphed my name here to match. >Now, as fur the ... ahem ... troubles. [CHOMP] >post was long gone. I was here right from the start of the whole mess - saw the saga unfold from the furst message. I just choose (usually...) not to get involved in inflammatory things. >Anyway, welcome to alt.fan.furry, O feline friend.:) Please make yourself >comfy, Oooh, thank you! Er - just how comfy? Cats can get pretty comfy you know, and if you don't qualify an invitation like that, the next thing you know we'll be draped all over the newsgroup, snoring away. Ah yes, nothing like a toasty little fire to put a cat to sleep! > and feel free to ask questions. If you want to ask me anything, Questions? Plonq "acks" and holds up an x-ray of bazillions of tiny flu viruses dancing the jitterbug on all his internals. "If they can put a fur on the moon, why can't they invent a cure for the common flu?" >I'm Wanderer, one of the many wolfurries in this group. I write a little, >talk a lot, and come up with obscure trivia a *whole* lot.:) I'm >more-or-less friendly, even to Matt, sometimes. I like music, ballroom Pleased to meet you. I'm Plonq, a snow leopard morph. I write a little, talk less..." he pauses to glare at a couple of furs who snicker at this last comment. "Okay, let me rephrase that. I don't talk much in the newsgroups. I like pretty much all genres of music except C & W - and various mutilations thereof. >dancing, and light science fiction (Andre Norton, for example). I'm a >hopeful actor and a determined singer (I love a good howl ... ), and I >always enjoy making new friends.:) Plonq shrugs, and admits that he doesn't know how to dance. "Too shy to learn as a cub, too clumsy to learn as an adult, and in too much mortal fear for my tail to even try. I think most snow leopards get nervous when there are a lot of feet stomping around in a confined area." The little morph reaches into his ubiquitous duffel bag and pulls out a copy of the science journal "Scentific Americat" "This is about all I read anymore. I love sci-fi and fantasy, but I don't seem to have the time to read these days. So much to do, and so short an attention span!" >... my younger sister's getting married the 21st of this month, and we're >all frazzled. Weddings... ack! Fortunately everyfur in my family who is probably getting married - or at least the ones who are likely to invite me - are already married. Mind you, I'm one of the last remaining bachelors in my family but... puh! I've got social ineptitude down to an art, so that's not likely to change soon. :) >In the meantime, feel free to check out my writing on the Transformation >Story Archive (any search engine can find it) and the Gargoyles Fan Webpage Hrm, I just might. I checked with a friend on ICQ just now, and he confirmed that this is the same archive that he's posted a few works to. I mentioned your name to him and he said, "Oh ya, I've talked to him on Undernet." Is this a small world or what! :) >(also searchable, but my stuff there isn't as good ... can you say, >"fanboy"? ... but still, nothing the upcoming rewrite won't cure:). I love writing, but I don't delude myself into thinking that my work is anything better than mediocre (too passive and gothic). Started an odd project that I tentatively titled "Simba Meets Cthulu" - but this isn't a writer's forum, so I'll spare any further details. >Again, welcome to the group, , and may your time with us be long and >enjoyable.:) Plonq returns the hug. "Sorry I didn't respond to this message earlier, but did I mention that I've been sick? In fact I took in my first solid food today in almost a week..." The little morph stepped out the back door, blinking in the bright sunshine. He sampled the crisp winter air with a few puffy breaths, before deciding that it was too warm to warrant an extra coat. Plonq pulled the door shut and crunched down the back walk through the fresh snow. He would have to shovel this, er, sometime. The cat was a little surprised to find fresh snow outside, but he reasoned that it must have fallen on one of the days when he was curled up in a little furry ball in the corner, shivering with ague. One tends to miss things in that state. Today, however, his grey-green eyes were reasonably clear, and he had purpose in his unsteady stride. There could be no doubt in the mind of anyfur who saw him pass that this little snow leopard was on a sacred quest for a hamburger. Fortunately McFurry's was just down the street. What luck, when the objects of sacred quests were within easy walking distance! Plonq arrived at the restaurant without incident, and entered to find a gruff-looking, though probably very helpful and friendly porcine morph standing behind the only active till. The snow leopard did not hesitate in moving up to the counter, where he danced indecisively on his digitigrade feet and pored over the menu board with eager eyes. "Can I help yous?" snorted the pig morph in a bored tone. "Oh no, thank you!" said Plonq. "I'm feeling much better now. The fever is all gone, and even my nose is cold and wet again like it's supposed to be." The pig morph grunted. "Uh, okay. That's nice," he said, rolling his porcine eyes. "Now didjas wanna order something?" When the cat morph just stood there, blinking expectantly, he added, "look buddy, I ain't touching yer freakin' cold, slimy cat nose. I'll take your word for it, okay? Now whadda ya want?" Plonq reached into his pocket and produced a... oops. With a "meep" of embarrassment he stuffed the dried hairball back into his pocket. He couldn't remember why he was packing it around, but he figured that it must have some purpose or he wouldn't have saved it. Fishing into his other pocket, he extracted a shiny two-dollar coin. "I would like a hamburger," he mewled politely. The pig morph clapped a hand to his forehead and shook his head tiredly. "Buddy, " he oinked slowly, "we call them 'burgers' here. We do not call them 'hamburgers'. There is no HAM in them." He leaned forward on a porcine elbow, and poked the snow leopard in his furry chest with a stubby index finger. "Look," he continued, "between you and me, this job sucks, but I need the income, y'see? What I don't need is no stigma from being a pig selling HAMburgers." He drew a quick snort of breath and added, "D'yer want fries with that?" The snow leopard began patting his pockets, turning out first one, then another and revealing nothing but pocket lint. "That wasn't a command," said the pig morph. "If you don't want the fries, you don't have to have them." He sighed. "Truth be known, you look like death warmed over - all fur and bones. You musta had that bug what's been going around, eh? Gimme the two bucks and the fries are on me, okay?" Later as he waddled home, feeling bloated and gross, it occurred to Plonq that he really hadn't wanted the fries, but he was never one to turn down another's generosity. His stomach gurgled in counterpoint, suggesting that it questioned his wisdom in making McFurry's his choice for a first solid meal.