Clarrise looked up from the bar, to see the landhare standing nose-to-nose with a drunken fox. She sighed as the fox yelled abuse at the gangly hare. This would not end well!
*THWACK*
Jab, jab, *THWACK* the hare had been a boxer in a past life before settling down with his wife to run bars.
The pair of brass knucklees from his waistcoat pockets helped though!
Clarrise the starling had been working at the 'Garry' for a
good three moons now, the hiring fair in the summer felt like a long
time ago, and as the drizzle came down, she glided in to the town sqaure
to start her late shift after a nap on her split shift. As was her
habit, she landed on the other side of the square to the well-built and
well-maintained inn that commanded the west side; Fur's day was market
day, so the bar was, as ever, heaving, she was glad to see. She thought
of the reasons she was here. The pay was... okay, the job long and
tiring, the roost was comfy, but their never seamed to be enough staff
on, but the food... Oh my! The food, especially on a day like today,
when she worked a split shift, was worth the job by itself!
Through
the drizzle, she could see the new priest in town, a black rat called
Jerimiah Cheese, he had arrived about a moon after her. As usual, he was
preaching his brand of 'hellfire and damnation' on the square to no-one
in particular.
"If you sin, it's simple, you'll burn in the hells..." He had obviously his a lull between verses, his islands accent was not at full pitch, and was would soon ramp it up to a crescendo again, when a shrew wife tugged at his sleeve.
"Reverend, sorry to interupt, but do you have any of that elixir that our Davie had two weeks back, his chest is getting worse again, I swear it's that new mine..."
"Bless you my child, but of course" the rat smiled kindly, "Asphodel, wormwood or dill flavoured?"
"He's one of my little one, he preferes that strawberry blend you did."
Clarrise smiled to herself as she walked past. He might be all ranting and raving, but Rev Cheese knew his way around a lotion and potion.
"As ever, all profits go towards the chapel roof," he intoned kindly, handing over a bottle of bright pink liquid, and pocketting several coins less than Clarrise knew he could have sold the tonic for.
She shook the drizzle off her beret and hung up her coat, putting on her pinny and started to serve in the front bar. It was as busy as she expected. The beer was good, the service between her and Hopps the barmaid and the Hare landlord would be quick and fun tonight, she could tell, the pennies were rolling in. The tips would certainly be more than welcome.
It was strange how, despite being this busy always, the inn's landlord and his wife never appeared that well dressed, and sometimes looked gaunt and wain. He and his wife, the chef, looked perpetually worried, and their leverets always dressed in tattered and dirty clothing, like they could not afford to feed or clothe themseles properly. The landhare and his lady worked all hours, cleaning and tending the bar, plus working in the kitchen while she and Hopps covered front of house, it was like the two of them could never stop. They certainly needed to spend more time with the young ones.
At the bar, four different heighted stools with nearly empty flaggons stood; three were occupied with creatures chatting amiably with the barman, as she swept past with a tray full of empties, she heard various snatches of conversation with her employer.
"It really is a nice bar you've got here," a young mouse enquired.
"The menu is superb, do you source locally?" His hedgehog companion enquired.
"Can we have four more, and a pack of those delicious looking woodlouse scratchings too?" a squirrel in the middle of the trio asked.
She smiled and moved on.
"Only the righteous will enter paradise and prosper, sinners will suffer..." she could hear the reverend droning on outside, she had been to see one of his Sun's day sermons, on the advice of the locals. Rev Cheese was covering for the local priest who had taken a long-overdue holiday, and it had been a masterpiece of humour, scripture and poetry. It had actually impressed her, and she was not a church mouse by any stretch.
Two foxes looked up from the central table where they sat, obviously worse for wear, and soon were joined by two more, who shook off their damp fur all over the floor, the walls, the ceilings, with no concern for others in the room, they nodded to their companions and moved around the bar.
"Tell you what mate," the mouse droned on with a slight nasel monotone, "we will make you, on behalf of our employer, an offer."
She did not hear the Hare's reply, but it was obviously a negative. The inn's door was blocked by one of four foxes, now standing just outside, but looked in, intenetly. The other foxes proceeded to split up and the three toured the tables, sniffing food, snatching and tasting some, grabbing drinks and shaking down some customers, they even disturbed the pair of stoats who had been quietly playing dominoes in a booth, scattering their tiles and dashing one of their dinner plates to the floor.
The tallest fox reached the bar, and shoving aside the undrunk drink on it, took the empty stool, leaning over towards the landhare.
"Hurry up, long ears!" it called out, putting it's paws across the bar, "Get over here! You owe us your rent."
"Right away, just hold on a mere moment." The hare was obviously terrified.
"Now!" it snarled, "You owe us double this month as you were two days late last month!"
Clarrise thought back to last moon, there had been a night when the bar's cash box had suddenly emptied, and the chef wife had cried all night, might this explain why?
"I said you were two days late last month, don't make us wait now. Let's hurry now!" The fox sneared, reaching over to the flaggon it had previously moved and necking it.
"That," uttered the hedgehog on one of the stools, turned slightly to the fox, "belonged to Bill."
The bar by now was silent.
"Sorry, spiney, did you say summit!" The fox turned, learing into the hedgehog's face.
"He said you just drank our friend's drink, which is unfair," a red squirrel further down the bar added.
The fox got up, and the silence that followed was dreadful. It walked over to the squirrel and casually grabbed it by the neck scarf, twisting it and lifting with one hand, while the other took the squirrel's drink, and downed it too, slamming the flaggon onto the floor and resting his paw on the bar and the squirrel waited in mid-air, hardly moving, fixing the fox in the eye.
"Listen, ginger-nuts," the fox drooled slightly as he purred in the squirrel's face, "this is our bosses bar, we do what we want. And I'll tell you what red, we don't like your type in here!"
With this, one of the other foxes grabbed Hopps the barmaid by the waist and hoisted her in the air, while a third grappled Clarrise's wing, digging its claws into her in a painful manner.
"And if you, you RODENT, and your two little friends can't cope with that, what you gonna doAAAAAAARGH!"
The largest fox dropped the squirrel and pulled at the stilleto that was suddenly pinning his hand to the bar.
"Which of you did that?" it screamed, dragging out a handkercheif and wrapping it round it's paw.
CLICK! CLICK! Suddenly, the fox found two pistols held up to his head, each cocked and mere inches away. The mouse, holding one, grinned; "I am here to have a quiet pint or two of this rather excellent ale with my friends, and to make the hare here an offer of his lifetime, without being interrupted. Now, it is obvious to me that you have seen the buisness end of a Royal End Field pistol before, and to be honest, this is the first time I've drawn mine in anger, so I don't know if it works. I would love to find out. My associate here assures me that the entry hole will be about an inch, while the exit hole is really quite spectacular."
The fox whimpered, pressing a bloody handkercheif down into the knife wound on his hand.
"Oh do be quiet, the mouse whispered, "we know you have a toady apothacry back at your den, you'll be right as rain by the morning, if you survive."
The fox visibly paled as the mouse turned, casually, to the barhare.
"We have been checking you accounts each night after you go to bed Henry, may I call you Henry?" The mouse gave his full attention to the barhare, but his pistol did not waver. Clarrisa felt the claws of the fox who was holding here dig deeper into her wing as it tensed up, obviously planning something, and then she felt something pop in her wing, making her gasp. That would need medical assistance, she was sure.
"Henry, you run a very successful bar here, the food is superb, yet you make no money." The mouse continued, oblivious to the fox he continued to threaten. "I think your buisness associates here have forced you into a very bad buisness model."
"That is none of your buisness!" The fox holding Hopp the barmaid snarled, garsping her by the neck, "but if you keep talking mouse, the hare here will suddenly find his overheads reduced as he will be even more short staffed, which means more profit for us."
"Henry, the deal is simple." The mouse continued. "We will provide you with a wagon to move yourself, your lovely family, and your belongings to a nice pub we know that deserves your families talents. It's in a busy village, it has a good sized kitchen, and will certainly benifit from your attention and management, so will the village locals. We will even provide a moving loan, which will be repaid, eventually, from your profits. Profits that will certainly make you more money than you do here. You will receive a percentage of the takings from there, and oversee the management this fine bar too, take a decent wage of both establishments for us. By spring, when the grass greens up, you will have plenty of time, and money, to enjoy it with your leverets, and soon, no doubt, you will be a grandhare to many more."
The hare looked on, open mouthed, "How can you know this?"
"You keep a good tidy cellar Henry, we've been staying in it for at least a moon now, watching how this place is run and how you've been bullied, we just made sure we were out of it each morning before you came down to clean."
"Keep talking like that, and the rabbit dies." The second fox snarled, moving the squirming barbunny towards his cavenous maw.
Suddenly, he crumpled. THWACK!
A shrew patted what looked like an extra long blackjack as it returned from the outside smallest room, brushing past the fox held at gunpoint, and placed the blackpudding on the bar with an audible thud.
The hedgehog pushed his pistol nearer the wounded fox, while with his other hand sending his drink down the bar to the shrew, "Sorry, some ruffian drank yours Bill. Always nice to see the ancient art of Eecky-Thump in action."
Clarrise felt her wing being pulled into an even more paionful position as the third fox dragged her, backwards, towards the door.
"And I say unto you, I shall strike you down in the name of the horned god if you keep up these sinfull.." Now was not the time for her to be getting an earshot of Cheese's surmon outside, but the bar was so quiet she had no choice. All eyes were on her.
One of the stoats stood up, barring the fox, and Clarrise's, way.
"I really think you need to go and tell your boss, Foxy, that Henry here has considered that kind offer," it snarled, it had a strange, dark, whiskery birthmark maybe, certainly unusual markings for a stoat, on it's upper jaw.
"This is our pub!" The fox blurted out.
"We thought you would say that, didn't we, Arthur." The second stoat, finely dressed, and strangely, munching on a carrot. Several carrot butts lay on the floor. obviously spilled with the dominoes. 'Odd habit for a stoat', Clarrise felt herself thinking, she slumped down, wing in tatters, as the fox moved round to face this new threat.
"I will tear you apart, and then I will enjoy snacking on this young, tender starling, then I'm having a five course meal of hare." The fox slathered, dragging the injured bird towards the door and closer to the stoats. When it was inches away, it looked outside, and called to it's friend who was meant to be gaurding the door, "Let's do them, all of them."
The only sound was the Revereand Jerimiah Cheese, "Those who are guilty will be punished, those who help their fellows will prosper." A pair of foxy feet were being dragged out of view and an adder slithered past, winking...
"Wha...How?" The fox gasped. As it's grip slackened, Clarrise twisted, suddenly reaching her good arm under her tattered wing, and pulled out the dagger she had secreted there. A fluffy of feathers, and the fox was down, dagger ripped across it's throat and it's white ruff blossoming red.
"Nice Clarrise." The well-dressed stoat helped her up, as his companion moved to the bar where the largest fox still stood in terror.
"Two whiskys 'Enry," it growled, and turning to the fox, slashed across it's snout with it's hat, leaving a red, bloodied line all the way across. "This bar is now under the management of the Squeaky Blinders. Got a problem with that?"
"If you sin, it's simple, you'll burn in the hells..." He had obviously his a lull between verses, his islands accent was not at full pitch, and was would soon ramp it up to a crescendo again, when a shrew wife tugged at his sleeve.
"Reverend, sorry to interupt, but do you have any of that elixir that our Davie had two weeks back, his chest is getting worse again, I swear it's that new mine..."
"Bless you my child, but of course" the rat smiled kindly, "Asphodel, wormwood or dill flavoured?"
"He's one of my little one, he preferes that strawberry blend you did."
Clarrise smiled to herself as she walked past. He might be all ranting and raving, but Rev Cheese knew his way around a lotion and potion.
"As ever, all profits go towards the chapel roof," he intoned kindly, handing over a bottle of bright pink liquid, and pocketting several coins less than Clarrise knew he could have sold the tonic for.
She shook the drizzle off her beret and hung up her coat, putting on her pinny and started to serve in the front bar. It was as busy as she expected. The beer was good, the service between her and Hopps the barmaid and the Hare landlord would be quick and fun tonight, she could tell, the pennies were rolling in. The tips would certainly be more than welcome.
It was strange how, despite being this busy always, the inn's landlord and his wife never appeared that well dressed, and sometimes looked gaunt and wain. He and his wife, the chef, looked perpetually worried, and their leverets always dressed in tattered and dirty clothing, like they could not afford to feed or clothe themseles properly. The landhare and his lady worked all hours, cleaning and tending the bar, plus working in the kitchen while she and Hopps covered front of house, it was like the two of them could never stop. They certainly needed to spend more time with the young ones.
At the bar, four different heighted stools with nearly empty flaggons stood; three were occupied with creatures chatting amiably with the barman, as she swept past with a tray full of empties, she heard various snatches of conversation with her employer.
"It really is a nice bar you've got here," a young mouse enquired.
"The menu is superb, do you source locally?" His hedgehog companion enquired.
"Can we have four more, and a pack of those delicious looking woodlouse scratchings too?" a squirrel in the middle of the trio asked.
She smiled and moved on.
"Only the righteous will enter paradise and prosper, sinners will suffer..." she could hear the reverend droning on outside, she had been to see one of his Sun's day sermons, on the advice of the locals. Rev Cheese was covering for the local priest who had taken a long-overdue holiday, and it had been a masterpiece of humour, scripture and poetry. It had actually impressed her, and she was not a church mouse by any stretch.
Two foxes looked up from the central table where they sat, obviously worse for wear, and soon were joined by two more, who shook off their damp fur all over the floor, the walls, the ceilings, with no concern for others in the room, they nodded to their companions and moved around the bar.
"Tell you what mate," the mouse droned on with a slight nasel monotone, "we will make you, on behalf of our employer, an offer."
She did not hear the Hare's reply, but it was obviously a negative. The inn's door was blocked by one of four foxes, now standing just outside, but looked in, intenetly. The other foxes proceeded to split up and the three toured the tables, sniffing food, snatching and tasting some, grabbing drinks and shaking down some customers, they even disturbed the pair of stoats who had been quietly playing dominoes in a booth, scattering their tiles and dashing one of their dinner plates to the floor.
The tallest fox reached the bar, and shoving aside the undrunk drink on it, took the empty stool, leaning over towards the landhare.
"Hurry up, long ears!" it called out, putting it's paws across the bar, "Get over here! You owe us your rent."
"Right away, just hold on a mere moment." The hare was obviously terrified.
"Now!" it snarled, "You owe us double this month as you were two days late last month!"
Clarrise thought back to last moon, there had been a night when the bar's cash box had suddenly emptied, and the chef wife had cried all night, might this explain why?
"I said you were two days late last month, don't make us wait now. Let's hurry now!" The fox sneared, reaching over to the flaggon it had previously moved and necking it.
"That," uttered the hedgehog on one of the stools, turned slightly to the fox, "belonged to Bill."
The bar by now was silent.
"Sorry, spiney, did you say summit!" The fox turned, learing into the hedgehog's face.
"He said you just drank our friend's drink, which is unfair," a red squirrel further down the bar added.
The fox got up, and the silence that followed was dreadful. It walked over to the squirrel and casually grabbed it by the neck scarf, twisting it and lifting with one hand, while the other took the squirrel's drink, and downed it too, slamming the flaggon onto the floor and resting his paw on the bar and the squirrel waited in mid-air, hardly moving, fixing the fox in the eye.
"Listen, ginger-nuts," the fox drooled slightly as he purred in the squirrel's face, "this is our bosses bar, we do what we want. And I'll tell you what red, we don't like your type in here!"
With this, one of the other foxes grabbed Hopps the barmaid by the waist and hoisted her in the air, while a third grappled Clarrise's wing, digging its claws into her in a painful manner.
"And if you, you RODENT, and your two little friends can't cope with that, what you gonna doAAAAAAARGH!"
The largest fox dropped the squirrel and pulled at the stilleto that was suddenly pinning his hand to the bar.
"Which of you did that?" it screamed, dragging out a handkercheif and wrapping it round it's paw.
CLICK! CLICK! Suddenly, the fox found two pistols held up to his head, each cocked and mere inches away. The mouse, holding one, grinned; "I am here to have a quiet pint or two of this rather excellent ale with my friends, and to make the hare here an offer of his lifetime, without being interrupted. Now, it is obvious to me that you have seen the buisness end of a Royal End Field pistol before, and to be honest, this is the first time I've drawn mine in anger, so I don't know if it works. I would love to find out. My associate here assures me that the entry hole will be about an inch, while the exit hole is really quite spectacular."
The fox whimpered, pressing a bloody handkercheif down into the knife wound on his hand.
"Oh do be quiet, the mouse whispered, "we know you have a toady apothacry back at your den, you'll be right as rain by the morning, if you survive."
The fox visibly paled as the mouse turned, casually, to the barhare.
"We have been checking you accounts each night after you go to bed Henry, may I call you Henry?" The mouse gave his full attention to the barhare, but his pistol did not waver. Clarrisa felt the claws of the fox who was holding here dig deeper into her wing as it tensed up, obviously planning something, and then she felt something pop in her wing, making her gasp. That would need medical assistance, she was sure.
"Henry, you run a very successful bar here, the food is superb, yet you make no money." The mouse continued, oblivious to the fox he continued to threaten. "I think your buisness associates here have forced you into a very bad buisness model."
"That is none of your buisness!" The fox holding Hopp the barmaid snarled, garsping her by the neck, "but if you keep talking mouse, the hare here will suddenly find his overheads reduced as he will be even more short staffed, which means more profit for us."
"Henry, the deal is simple." The mouse continued. "We will provide you with a wagon to move yourself, your lovely family, and your belongings to a nice pub we know that deserves your families talents. It's in a busy village, it has a good sized kitchen, and will certainly benifit from your attention and management, so will the village locals. We will even provide a moving loan, which will be repaid, eventually, from your profits. Profits that will certainly make you more money than you do here. You will receive a percentage of the takings from there, and oversee the management this fine bar too, take a decent wage of both establishments for us. By spring, when the grass greens up, you will have plenty of time, and money, to enjoy it with your leverets, and soon, no doubt, you will be a grandhare to many more."
The hare looked on, open mouthed, "How can you know this?"
"You keep a good tidy cellar Henry, we've been staying in it for at least a moon now, watching how this place is run and how you've been bullied, we just made sure we were out of it each morning before you came down to clean."
"Keep talking like that, and the rabbit dies." The second fox snarled, moving the squirming barbunny towards his cavenous maw.
Suddenly, he crumpled. THWACK!
A shrew patted what looked like an extra long blackjack as it returned from the outside smallest room, brushing past the fox held at gunpoint, and placed the blackpudding on the bar with an audible thud.
The hedgehog pushed his pistol nearer the wounded fox, while with his other hand sending his drink down the bar to the shrew, "Sorry, some ruffian drank yours Bill. Always nice to see the ancient art of Eecky-Thump in action."
Clarrise felt her wing being pulled into an even more paionful position as the third fox dragged her, backwards, towards the door.
"And I say unto you, I shall strike you down in the name of the horned god if you keep up these sinfull.." Now was not the time for her to be getting an earshot of Cheese's surmon outside, but the bar was so quiet she had no choice. All eyes were on her.
One of the stoats stood up, barring the fox, and Clarrise's, way.
"I really think you need to go and tell your boss, Foxy, that Henry here has considered that kind offer," it snarled, it had a strange, dark, whiskery birthmark maybe, certainly unusual markings for a stoat, on it's upper jaw.
"This is our pub!" The fox blurted out.
"We thought you would say that, didn't we, Arthur." The second stoat, finely dressed, and strangely, munching on a carrot. Several carrot butts lay on the floor. obviously spilled with the dominoes. 'Odd habit for a stoat', Clarrise felt herself thinking, she slumped down, wing in tatters, as the fox moved round to face this new threat.
"I will tear you apart, and then I will enjoy snacking on this young, tender starling, then I'm having a five course meal of hare." The fox slathered, dragging the injured bird towards the door and closer to the stoats. When it was inches away, it looked outside, and called to it's friend who was meant to be gaurding the door, "Let's do them, all of them."
The only sound was the Revereand Jerimiah Cheese, "Those who are guilty will be punished, those who help their fellows will prosper." A pair of foxy feet were being dragged out of view and an adder slithered past, winking...
"Wha...How?" The fox gasped. As it's grip slackened, Clarrise twisted, suddenly reaching her good arm under her tattered wing, and pulled out the dagger she had secreted there. A fluffy of feathers, and the fox was down, dagger ripped across it's throat and it's white ruff blossoming red.
"Nice Clarrise." The well-dressed stoat helped her up, as his companion moved to the bar where the largest fox still stood in terror.
"Two whiskys 'Enry," it growled, and turning to the fox, slashed across it's snout with it's hat, leaving a red, bloodied line all the way across. "This bar is now under the management of the Squeaky Blinders. Got a problem with that?"
Comments
Post a Comment