Garfield X Guy Fieri

Garfield X Guy Fieri (Prologue)

4 years ago, Guy wouldn't have been caught dead in The Greaseway. The stinking stream of diabetes that split the shit-encrusted streets was a testament to mankind's sin; a festering monument to the most deplorable among us. It was the kind of place you didn't go to be seen.

But times change. The war had destroyed more that simply the lives and virginities of so many young men and women. It had broken down social boundaries as well. Whereas before Guy would have unfrosted his tips and deflamed his shirt for fear of being noticed, today he proudly waltzed through the streets of a diabetic's Venice, adorned in nothing but his trademark black flame shirt and designer shades. His pendulous sausage hung between his legs, swinging in sync with his steps as he strode towards the only thing worthwhile in Flavortown's anus: The Nutte Sakk.

The Nutte Sakk was a well known bar that doubled as a brothel for those who needed more than just a drink. Guy had always seen it as rather below him, but his standards had lowered that they themselves were now the only thing beneath him. Figuratively, of course. In a few moments Guy intended to have someone below him, and he didn't mean it any way other than physically.

The mere thought of what lay behind those swinging doors raised more than just Guy's expectations. When they did burst open, Guy's face took a few seconds to appear. The doors swinging shut behind him, Fieri did what any man of culture would, and hung his foreskin at the door.

The insane amounts of testosterone emanating from his frosted tips didn't go unnoticed, and Guy was quickly beset by what he could only assume to be one of the regulars of the establishment - a small grey kitten that quickly introduced himself as Nermal.

"Well hello there big boy. Upon which sin have you acted upon in coming here? Merely gluttony..."

Nermal gestured towards the bar.

"Or something more, lustful..."

Drawing the final syllable out, Nermal extended a claw towards Guy's now fully circ'd gloryhammer, scraping smegma from behind the head that Guy had missed on the way in. Nermal took this residue and smeared it right about his eyes, making his eyelashes stick up with extra vigor. These in turn were matched by the rising of a much lower appendage of Nermal's, much to Guy's disinterest. It's not like they would be using his for anything.

He grabbed Nermal, and spun him around in an attempt to determine if the ass what phat or not. The wagon was decent, but definitely wasn't a selling point. Nermal definitely depended upon his face to attract those of Guy's caliber, and right now it smelled too much of Guy himself, the pungent odor emanating from the smegma gel on his eyelashed. Guy wasn't a fan of his own musk.

As he debated whether or not to bed the kittie, another patron caught his eye. Sitting up on a bar stool, facing away from Fieri, was a corpulent orange cat with the caboose to match. With Nermal immediately evaporated from his mind, Guy strode towards his quarry.

Reaching him, Guy put his hand on the countertop, looming over his hopeful conquest.

"Hey there baby, does the carpet match the drapes?"

Garfield immediately began to roll his eyes, tired of another canned and crass comment about his striking orange fur, but Guy wasn't finished.

"...because, then we'd be a matching pair."

Guy gestured towards his own base of operators, sucking in his stomach for better visibility.

"You frosted your tips down there, too?"

"baby, there's only one tip left that isn't frosted, and I bet you could help me with that."

Garfield blushed, nervously looking around. Looking for Him.

But the heart wants what it wants, and now it wanted two things: Guy, and Lasagna, only with the order reversed.

"Buy me some lasagna and I'll fulfill your every desire."

The deal sealed, Guy scooped up the Italian dish in one hand, and the thickest cat in the world in his other, and strode towards one of the private rooms on the second floor.