A Christmas Tail (Furry BxB)

Is You

It was Christmas day and everywhere was bustling. Everyone was heading home to spend time with their families.

The greasy canine rolled out from beneath a rustic Pontiac Firebird. Finally getting to his paws, he dusted his hands, placing the heavy power handle in the back pocket of his fitted work jeans. He gave a quick glance at the naked engine exposed with the hood hung up by a metal hinge. It was one of those special reverse opening hoods that opened and had a hinge at the front of the vehicle, almost similar to those of the big cargo trucks. The hood itself had an ornate rendition of a firebird consisting of the black body paint and gold lining the bird's frame.

The tiresome dog then pulled out his phone from his front shirt pocket, turned it on and stared at the numbers shown. 12:35. Damn, I shouldn't even be here right now. Why am I even working overtime for this lazy shit? I'm not even getting paid extra, the sheppy thought as he replaced the phone in his back pocket, placing both hands on the furthest reaches of the car's hood and pushing it forward. It slammed down and with the sound of a locking mechanism, he kicked the roller in the direction of the open garage door.

The dark brown and black hound walked by a few other garage doors, some open, some closed, some broken, and finally reached the office area. He pushed open the door that had a partially rusted "We're Open" sign hanging on the inside and was greeted by a wave of heat. He looked around, wiping his forehead. No one was behind the desk and a little fan spinned, giving off it's audible buzzing noise that filled the empty room. The now sweating dog walked to a door near the front desk and peered in. It was dark and a little glowing light seemed to be the only thing visible. Walking through a curtain of beads, everything slowly came into view. It was the small office of the owner. It consisted of a medium sized desk, a few chairs against the wall near the doorway and a chair before the desk. The walls were dark and the windows were closed enough that only a very small amount of light could enter. Sitting at the desk was a big, black bear, who had leaned back against the old rolling chair. It seemed he had fallen asleep with his cigar in his mouth, lit and emitting a dull glow.

"Boss, I'm done for the day," said the dog in a serious tone.

The bear jumped and fumbled forward.

"Hu-wha," he reacted by the sudden noises. "Ahh, Seth. Good to see you my man," said the bear adjusting himself in the chair. "You can't be done today man," he half questioned, fixing the cigar in his mouth.

"I am, I'm not even being paid for overtime," replied Seth a little frustrated. "You can't be done today, not after I heard of that incident yesterday. My men were injured by some good samaritan who intervened when they were taking care of a piece of trash," informed the bear turning his chair around. "You're filling in for them till they're able to move again."

It took a while for Seth to understand what the bear was saying and finally he realized that the bear, his boss, was the one who had commanded the torturous beating of the fox he saved. Seth stood there for a while, both shocked and wide-eyed and angry that he wasn't getting his work's pay.

"If I knew who that bugger was, I was gonna kill him for stopping my men from their orders," called the bear breaking Seth away from his thoughts.

Seth stood frozen. Was this the mob boss? Was he the one who ordered that hit on the poor fox? How was I working for this guy for so long and didn't know about this? Seth's thoughts rambled on and was then interrupted once again.

"You still there?" the bear questioned, turning his head a little to the right. "You got that? So stop bugging me about overtime."

Seth felt his left arm move around to his back pocket, feeling the power handle's cold, steel structure. He pulled it out of it's clothed hold and hid it behind his left thigh.