Duet Or Die (2014)

A CatDog Fanfiction

By Melissa E.M.

Chapter One:

"In Which the Reader Will Likely Cringe"

Mayor Rancid Rabbit was taking a light nap in his office, leaning back in his comfortable leather chair with his legs propped up on his wooden desk. It was a quiet day in Nearburg, which was unusual, and he was fully taking advantage of this. He smiled in his sleep. Not a single phone call. No papers to sign. Yes, today was a good day.

Suddenly, his intercom buzzed to life, startling him and nearly causing him to fall out of his chair. "Mr. Mayor," said his secretary, "your niece is here to see you!"

Normally, Rancid would have jumped down his secretary's throat for disturbing him when he explicitly told her not to. However, if there was one person Rancid put everything aside for besides himself, it was his niece. He dared not say no to her for any reason whatsoever. Not only because he cared about her, but because she threw the absolute worst temper tantrums if she didn't get her way.

Holding back a sigh, Rancid sat up in his chair, pressed a button on the intercom, and replied to his secretary. "Send her in, Buffy."

Not more than three seconds later, the doors to Rancid's office slammed open, and Rancine Rabbit came stomping inside. "Uncle Rancid! We need to talk! Now!"

Rancid took a deep breath and smiled. "Rancine! Is school out already? I must have lost track of time!" He gestured towards the nearest vacant chair. "Pull up a seat, sweetheart."

Rancine stopped before the desk and crossed her arms. "I'll stand, thank you very much."

"Very well," said Rancid. He folded his hands and placed them on his desk. "So, what can I do for you?"

Rancine glared at her uncle. "Do you have any idea what day it is in three weeks?"

Rancid's smile grew wider. "Of course I do! Your birthday's coming up in three weeks, isn't it?"

"That's right," snapped Rancine, "my birthday! But do you remember how old I'm going to be?"

Rancid's smile disappeared. Uh-oh. He'd forgotten how old she was! He thought quickly. Let's see... she was almost done with her first year of junior high school... wow, time flies quickly! It only seemed like just yesterday she was only seven years old, with that cute blue and white dress and those beautiful blonde curls in her hair. Now she was... god, how old, how old?

Rancine narrowed her eyes. Apparently, Rancid had taken too long to respond. "I'm going to be THIRTEEN!" she shrieked.

"Oh!" said Rancid, startled by her outburst. "Of course, of course! Thirteen!" He smiled again. "How could I forget such a huge milestone?"

"You're darn right it's huge milestone!" yelled Rancine. "And I want it to be the best, most memorable birthday I've ever had, got it?!"

"Of course, Rancine!" said Rancid with a nod. "So, what did you have in mind?"

Rancine began tapping her foot. "My BFF, Squeak, just celebrated her thirteenth birthday. Her mom got her concert tickets to see Aaron Beaverton. They flew all the way out to Canada to see him perform a charity concert."

"Aaron Beaverton? That really popular boy singer you have a poster of in your room?" asked Rancid.

Rancine shot him a dirty look. "He's not a boy, Uncle! He's a man! But yeah, I'm talking about him. I want you to bring him here to perform a concert for my birthday! In fact... I want you to do better than that!" she said, suddenly struck with an idea. "I want you to get ALL my favorite singers together to perform for me!"

Rancid's eyes bulged. "Uh, I'd love to do that for you, Rancine, but–"

"Excuse me?" Rancine interrupted him. "Did you just say, 'but'? Are you going to tell me 'no'?!"

"N-no, I'm not going to tell you 'no'!" Rancid said quickly. "It's just that it costs a lot of money to organize a concert, and to hire performers. Especially famous ones like Aaron Beaverton."

"So what?! You're rich!"

"Yes, but not that rich!"

"Then figure out how to scrounge up the money! NOW!"

Rancid sighed, turned his gaze to the rings of wood on his desk, and immediately put his brain to work. Hmm... what could he do? If only there was a way to get so many people at a discounted price... wait! Didn't Rancine say Aaron Beaverton had been performing a charity concert? That's it, a charity concert! But a charity for what? Rancid glanced up at his niece... and then inspiration struck.

Rancid smiled slyly. "Rancine, how well can you fake being sick?"

Rancine immediately caught on and mirrored her uncle's expression. "Heh... I like the way you think, Uncle. And to answer your question..."

Rancine suddenly began shaking all over. She wrapped her arms around herself and groaned. "Oh, it's so cold... so very cold..." She gave a whooping cough, then wheezed for air. "Oh, it hurts to breathe! The agony!" She fell to the floor and writhed about. "My head! My chest! My stomach! Oh god, make it stop!" she sobbed. She curled up into a fetal position. "Someone call 911! I'm dying!" She then gasped loudly, then fell limp and stopped moving.

The intercom buzzed. "Mr. Mayor," spoke the secretary, "is everything okay in there?!"

Rancid pressed the button. "Yes, yes, everything is fine, Buffy," he replied, beaming with pride at his niece. "Just pretend you heard nothing and go back to what you were doing." He took his finger off the button and slowly clapped his hands. "Bravo, Rancine. You even managed to scare Buffy! Looks like the concert is on."

Rancine sat up and pumped her fist into the air. "Alright!"

Rancid took out a notepad and pen and started to write. "So, aside from Aaron Beaverton, who else do you want at this concert?"

Rancine got up from the floor and went to look over her uncle's shoulder. "Myra Smiley, Candy Bacon, Ko Kik, LMBO, O'Henry, Tabby Duke, Tunya Felina, and Biscuit Canino."

Rancid finished writing with a flourish. "There! Now all we have to do," he said, getting up from his chair and heading towards the nearest bookshelf, "is to figure out what you'll be sick from. Good thing I'm also a doctor." He pulled out an official-looking medical book from the shelf and started flipping through it. "Hmm, let's see... what illness requires a lot of money to cure? Cacapupu systemosis... cranial excrementia..." He skipped a few sections forward and immediately found something. "Aha! Florifer syndrome! Perfect!"

Rancine raised an eyebrow. "Florifer syndrome? What's that?"

"It's a rare disease that causes flowers to grow from various parts of the body," explained Rancid. "In fact, it's so rare, there's only been one reported case of it! The only known cure is to consume the leaves of a rare plant called Lyceum nycanthropus, which only grows in the state of Calisota. And because Lyceum nycanthropus is a protected species, it will cost a lot of money to convince conservationists to give up one of them."

Rancine cocked her head to one side. "But if they saw I was sick, wouldn't they just hand over the plant?"

Rancid's expression darkened. "Clearly, my dear niece, you don't know how far certain parties are willing to go to protect that particular species of plant. There have been homicides over it. It's not pretty."

Rancine rubbed her chin. "Homicides? Huh, that's dark."

"Maybe so," said Rancid, "but pay enough money and bloodshed can be easily avoided. A charity concert of this proportion can easily rake in millions."

"Do we actually have to buy the plant, though? I'd sooner we swindled everyone and kept all the money for ourselves! That way you can buy me extra birthday presents," said Rancine, rubbing her hands together greedily.

"I like the way you think," said Rancid with a grin. "But we have to be as convincing about this as possible. Here's what we're gonna do: we hold the concert, we use the money to buy the plant, then we sell the plant on the black market to the highest bidder, and then we get you extra birthday presents. And maybe I can get a little something for myself, too, like a third convertible. How's that sound?"

Rancine nodded. "Okay. I guess that's fair. Though if you're going to get yourself a third convertible, I want FOUR new cars for my sixteenth birthday, got it?"

Rancid made an "OK" sign. "Got it!"

Rancine smiled and put out a hand to shake. "Let's do this!"

Rancid firmly shook Rancine's hand. "We make a fine team, Rancine, my dear. I promise, you're going to have the best birthday ever."

"I'd better!" Rancine suddenly snapped. "Because if I don't–!"

"You will!" Rancid assured her. "Don't worry, you will. I promise, you definitely won't be forgetting this birthday."