The Stupid Situation I'm In

[Sly Speakeasy]

?How am I doing? Well, my friend, since you ask, not too well. I?ve seen much better days,? Sly said, sweeping up the straw on the stall floor into some sort of haphazard pile as he did. ?I believe you?re aware of my success as a bar hopper? Best job I?ve ever had. The only job, honestly. But it?s a good one, and I?ve managed to stay employed for years. I never complained, not once. I always had a good time, too, especially with a drink in paw. And let me tell you, I was never without a drink in paw, no matter how disastrous that was for my tabs. And my temper.?

Sly began to chuckle at his little joke, but the silence in the stall killed the moment. Sighing, the vole got back to work.

?I see you?re not amused. Well, neither were the taverns I frequented. In case you ever wondered, a bar hopper hops bars for two reasons: enemies and debt. And, since I?m an expert in my field, I?ve accrued quite a bit of both. And when a beast?s reputation becomes too unsightly, sometimes those he?s slighted send the collectors. And then one of those collectors find you, and suddenly here you are, trapped in a drab hole to satisfy beast?s silly sense of justice, doing who knows what and for how long, day in and day out, terrified the rest of them catch wind of where you are??

Sly noticed he had stopped working again. Rolling his eyes, the vole returned to the boring task at paw.  ?Anyway, that?s how I?m doing. I?ve seen better days. How about you, Handsome??

The boar on the other side of the stall turned its massive head towards the tiny vole, and snorted in response.

Sly feigned an impressed look. ?That good, huh? Then drinks are on you tonight, pal.?

?There won?t be any drinkth tonight if you don?t finith thweeping, Thly.?

Sly dropped the broomstick as his paws shot to his mouth in shock. ?Handsome! You DO talk! I knew it, I knew it all along! Though I must admit, the lisp comes as a bit of a surprise.?

?I don?t have a lithp,? the lisping beast behind the vole snapped. Whirling around, Sly saluted the bespectacled fox he had been waiting to see for hours now.   

?Gerry! My apologies sir, I confused you for a stupid pig. I can only hope it doesn?t happen again!?

?No offenth taken,? Geralt replied. ?I?m not thurprised you?re confuthing everybeatht for pigth. I?ve been making thure to keep you down here. Keepth your thtunted figure out of thight and out of mind.? The fox?s nose was buried in a stack of papers as he spoke, which the vole could only guess to be the list of chores he and the other lackeys were doomed to complete. He grimaced.

?And it has been rewarding work, sir!? Sly said. ?So rewarding in fact, I believe I?m content with staying down here.?

?Trutht me, I would love nothing more than to leave you down here, thad and forgotten, but there are plenty of jobth more immediately important. We juth got a new thipment today.?

?Oh, a shipment you say? Booze or bananas??

?You know full well it?s a thipment of thlaves,? Geralt said without a hint of jest, and handed Sly a sheet of paper. ?On top of thith, I need you to athith with arena dutieth. Nire wants it clean for the guests. And remember, if thith ith not finithed in time??

?I will be horribly punished, yes,? Sly interrupted. ?What will you do this time, starve me? Thirst me? Take away my headband?? Before Geralt could manage a retort, Sly snatched the list from the fox. Quickly the vole scanned its contents. Clear the new cells, scrub the main tunnel, move the hard tack from storage?and so much more that Sly stopped reading and shoved the page into his pocket.

?To the ol? grind once more, Gerry. See you tonight.? Sly said, and sulked out of the stalls.

This is going to be a long day.

?? ?? ?? ?? ??

And it was. He was scrubbing the arena for hours, and just as he was about to go to storage, some stupid flying fox creature ruined everything and got blood everywhere. And who else was around to clean it but Sly? He wasn't paid enough for this. In fact, he wasn't paid at all.

But luckily the rest of the long, agonizing day was less eventful, and finally the vole was finished. Immediately after checking in with Geralt, Sly made a bolt for his sanctuary: Crater Lake Pub. Though it was nearby, located directly in the Crater for the onlookers to drown themselves while beasts were killed, the vole would take the service tunnels and backways to get there. Very few beasts took the paths he would use, mostly other indentured servants such as himself. The vole never wanted to be captured while sober.

Finally, there it was. The doors to heaven. Just as he began to charge through, he remembered his situation. Nervous, he opened the door a crack, and peeked inside, scanning the tavern for any beast who looked like they were looking for beasts too. Seeing nobeast suspicious, the vole smiled, took a deep breath, and shoved the doors open.

?Friends! Drunkards! Highwaybeasts! I have returned, to drink you all under the table!?

Barely anybeast turned their heads, continuing to add to the conversational din of the tavern. Only one beast acknowledged their tiny new company, a drunk stoat next to the door. He leaned down and belched in the vole?s ear, falling over and bellowing in laughter. Sly bent over, and laughed with him.
   
?Your enthusiasm inspires me, my inebriated friend,? he chuckled.  ?Perhaps one day, I too will be oblivious to my sad, sad state of being. But until then!?

Sly practically skipped to the bar, nimbly leaped into a stool and slapped the countertop. The hare barkeep who had his back turned flinched, cleaning a glass and doing his best to ignore the tiny vole?s voice.

?Gunderbite, my gorgeous angel!? he crooned. ?You know what I want. Nay! What I need.?

Gunder put down the glass, a little too roughly, and finally turned to face the grinning little alcoholic.

?Aye, I know what you need. But you know what I need? Some coin for those drinks you ain?t paid fer yet.?

?Oh Gunderbite, you know I?m good to go! I?m working off debt, so every bit of debt I build in here, gets added to what I work off out there! It?s a great compromise for everyone involved I?d say.?

?Aye. So you say,? Gunder grunted. ?But you ain?t paid your tab since I first laid eyes on you. An? it?s been a minute. An? I know you?re only workin? here ?cause of not payin? your tabs. You ain?t a very reliable patron.?

?Help me out, at least tonight. I promise, I?ll pay my dues in time,? the vole begged, trying not to sound like that?s what he was doing, and tapped at his collar. ?I can?t very well run away, can I? This crater?s the only thing keeping me safe. Of all the beasts I owe money to, you?re at the top of my list for recompense, believe me.?

After a moment, the hare snorted. ?Aye. And knowin? you, I won?t have to come lookin? for you. You?ll be back soon enough. I?ll let you off the hook tonight.? And with that, the angel fixed a mug of ale, and slid it towards eager paws. Snatching it up, Sly chugged, almost downing the entire contents within seconds.

?You?re a gorgeous beast, don?t know if I?d said so yet. Now if you?ll excuse me, I?ve a few barflies to bother.?  Sly hopped off the barstool, already walking towards the loudest table before he even touched the ground. It was a large table of five, mostly vermin. They were all dwarfed when it came to the beaver at table?s head.  He recognized the beast as Blasio, a businessbeast who owns so much Sly probably owes him coin in some roundabout way as well. He was a massive beast, devouring a plate full of food Sly would have killed for as he spoke to his company. Occasionally he would be interrupted by various beasts with paper approaching the table. As Sly swaggered over, he caught a snippet of their conversation.

??heard they captured the Monster o? Mossflower Woods,? said a one-eyed rat.

?Ha! They didn't catch the Monster. Probably some vagrant they picked up that they're just calling the Monster,? laughed a mink wearing a ridiculous hat.

?Yar, don? listen to ?em, the champ?s still a safe bet. I?m goin? with him all the way,? said a rather scraggly weasel.

?Indeed. That champion is maybe too good,? Blasio interjected, chomping down on a hunk of bread. ?A sure bet is also a dull one. And it has gotten rather dull around here.?

?Allow me to bring some excitement!? Sly interjected.

?Who said that??  Asked Dumb Hat with more than a hint of irritation.

?Down here.? The beasts turned heads in unison towards the grinning vole standing elbow-height to One-Eye. ?The name?s Speakeasy, ?cause speaking to me is easy. Now, I couldn?t help but overhear, we were talking about?bets??

?And who are you?? snarled Dumb Hat.

?I take it you missed my introduction,? the vole replied. ?I?m Sly Speakeasy, professional speaker, and I was hoping to do some of that with you fine folks.?

?Shove off,? One-eye laughed.

?No, no, let the little entrepreneur speak,? said Blasio, bearing his giant teeth in what Sly hoped was a smile. ?I would love to hear what he thinks he has to say."

Oh ho ho, look at you. Sly thought.

?Well Buck, I?d like to say I?ve got quite a bit riding on this next fight myself. I?ve got me a secret champion, an ace in the hole fighter, a real force to be reckoned with. I?m willing to bet not a one of you knows about him. I?d love to give you the details but?well?? Sly trailed off.

?But what? I wanna?? One-Eye eagerly began, but the beaver began to laugh, his girth rattling the table.

?But you need several gold pieces before you spill, you wouldn?t want the secret getting out,? he began, an evil glint in his eyes. ?And after we indulge you, you earn just enough to buy a flask to go disappearing into the night. Is that about right, tiny friend??

Sly began to speak, but the beaver cut him off.

?Save it, I know who you are. And before you inflate your little ego, no, your reputation does not precede you. I?ve met your kind before, in every bar I?ve ever frequented. Losers, only trying to get their next glass. So here, I?ll save you the trouble of speaking,? the beaver said, and reached behind his bulk. Sly could hear the jangling of coins, and his heart leapt in spite of himself. The beaver?s hand reappeared, with a single copper piece. ?And buy your next drink for you.?

The beaver tossed the coin at Sly. It clattered at his feet. He couldn?t look the other beasts in the eye as he reached for it, but he could feel their condescending grins baring down on him.

?No need to feel ashamed,? The beaver continued. ?I?m sure you could have fooled lesser beasts. I normally don?t frequent this hovel, but business is business. Enjoy your drink, Mr. Speaky.?

Clutching the coin in his hand, Sly forced a smile, and shot back upright to look the beasts in the eye. ?Oh, I was finished for the night. Trying to watch my weight, I don?t wish my gut to become too unsightly in the future.?

And with that, he tucked the coin into the fold of his headband, and spun around into a beeline for the bar, refusing to look and trying his utmost not to listen to the guffaws behind him. Unfortunately, other beasts felt like interrupting his journey to alcoholic salvation.

"Oi!" A deep voice above the vile shouted, and a strong paw grabbed his shoulder. "Ah cannae believe such a beast would treat a fellow woodlander so crassly in front o' those vile vermin blighters.?

Sly stopped in his tracks, only partially against his will, and looked up to the voice above. It belonged to a hare, whose imposing figure was diminished only slightly by the bleary eyes of a beast who?s gone one too many.

?Yes, damn him and his vermin comradery,? Sly said. ?If there?s one thing that?s more upsetting than being thoroughly humiliated, it?s peaceful coexistence.?

?Aye, laddie, there ain?t nothin? worse,? the hare agreed, though Sly was fairly certain he didn?t understand a word said. ?Ach. There's nae need tae worry, though, mah wee friend. They willnae be a gettin? away wi' it fer long, aye. Ah'm here tae clean it all up. Clean out the vermin? all o? them, an' then find Lloyd. ?
?Oh really? I know where the brooms are kept if you want to get started.? The hare laughed heartily, and took a drink.

?Ahar, an' ah could dae it wi' a broom, as well! Ah could go intae that arena wi' nothin? but a broom handle an? knock ?em dead!?

?I?d love to see you try,? Sly snorted, but then his face lit up. ?Wait. Are you one of the fighters??

?One o' the fight? Ach, laddie, ah'm nae just one o? the fighters. Ah'm Kentigern MacRaff! Ah swing mah blade wi' the fury o' pure highland justice! Ah'm a MacRaff, o? the MacRaff clan, an' ah wield the bonnie auld sword o' mah ancestors? Loft Kris hae slain more vermin than the number o' days ye've seen. Ah fought wi' Dunwillie MacDougal, an' the Braw Band o' Adventurers, lendin' fierce blood 'n vinegar tae the vermin scum. 'Till Tanning Ford, aye." The hare suddenly became downcast, trailing of as he spoke. But then, remembering he had drink in had, he perked right back up, with a twinkle in his eye. "With McDougal? that auld brushtail was one o' the best fighter tae ever grace the bonnie land o' the North! Aye, we fought taegether. In the name o' the Northlands! Haaaarr!?

?And when is your next fight, Mac?? Sly asked, more than a little eagerly.

?Ain?t too long now, aye. I?ll give ?em a show, and show ?em what for.?

And McRaff downed another drink. As the hare embarrassed himself, Sly reached for the newfound wealth in his headband, rubbing it between the fabrics. He smiled.

Well, Buck. Looks like I'm about to make things interesting for you after all.