Crossing Lines

Author's Notes: You know, sometimes you just want to break away from the norm and write something light. And buttery.

The sun had almost set, and still she waited.

After all, Goldie had no idea when Maler would get back from the city. She was actually quite certain she'd never see Hirocco's only human resident again, but her best efforts and pleading eyes failed to rouse the town into forming a search party.

"He'll be back in a few hours," Hopper had grumbled at her.

"Well, who knows when that's going to be?" The fear in her bright eyes hadn't changed the surly penguins mind, nor anyone else's, so she returned and kept vigil in front of the town gate. Minutes passed, then an hour, then another, and Goldie found herself sitting beneath an apple tree.

Finally, just after the sun sank and lights flicked on at the nearby Town Hall, a great horn blew. Someone's coming! she realized. She sprang to her feet and yipped. It must be him! Her excitement boiled over when a figure appeared in the entranceway. It was a man, no doubt about that, but his face and torso were obscured by the over-sized plastic crate he was carrying, with bags and small boxes balanced precariously on top.

Goldie's excitement boiled over when she spotted the spiky green hair poking over the carton. "Maler!" she shouted. She bolted to his side, no thought given to calming herself. "You're back!"

"Hrmf Grdy," Maler gibbered from hind his burden and he started southeast, toward his house.

He walked on, and Goldie cheered and barked, running circles around the human. "Where'd you go? Was the city big? What'd you buy? Did you bring presents? Anything for me? Hm?"

Maler grunted and gently sent the crate down, revealing a fist-sized hole in the top. "Not now Goldie, please. I just want to go home and rest." He gathered his things, and went on his way.

Goldie stopped in her tracks and tilted her head. "But… but," she whimpered softly to no avail. The usually cheerful human was already away, over the next hill. "…no presents?"

Just before ten o'clock that night, Cheri answered a knock on her door. Without invitation or warning, Goldie pushed past her friend and immediately related the awful story. Naturally, Cheri was shocked by the whole ordeal, and decided that a proper investigation was in order.

So off they want, plucking Gwen from her garden and filling her in on the details along the way. She, too, found Maler's behavior to be absolutely reprehensible, and thought the only thing to do was get an apology - by force, if necessary.

When the girls arrived on Maler's doorstep, Cheri wasn't the first to wonder, but she was the only one who voiced, "Well, what do we do?"

"We get our apology, of course," Gwen assured her. She'd adopted Goldie's grief as her own, and slammed her flipper against the wooden door.

No response. She counted to ten, and knocked again. And again. All said, a full five minutes passed before Goldie asked, "Now what?"

"Here," Gwen said, gesturing for the girls to follow her to the side of the window. She peered inside, and saw Maler clear as day. He was on his black and white couch (on yellow carpet! Gwen scoffed), laughing almost to tears. But they couldn't figure out why he was laughing - he didn't own a television or radio, and he wasn't reading a book.

"He's off his nut!" Cheri exclaimed, and Maler's head jerked in her direction. His joyous look twisted into a fierce glare, and he stomped over to the window. Gwen waved innocently, but he swiftly drew his blinds.

"Well, I never!"

The next morning came and nearly went before Maler was seen outside again. By then, every animal in the village had heard increasingly warped versions of the previous night's events. Bill was still reeling from the revelation that Maler was, in fact, a vampire and had tried to feed on Goldie and her companions.

But the day moved on like most did. The animals milled about, exchanging furniture, swapping shirts, and trading gossip as usual. Maler barely noticed that his neighbors were consciously avoiding him as he slung his shovel over his shoulder and started off toward the northeast corner of town.

As he walked by, he didn't see the brown duck hiding behind an apple tree, shaking, wondering if his own blood would prove tastier than Cheri's or Goldie's.

Ka-thunkt!

Maler cheered as his shovel finally connected with something. He'd spent the better part of an hour in this field, searching for anything - hidden bells, fossils, and such - that might be worth having. And it looked like he'd lucked out after all.

He began to dig around the object, being careful not to damage his hard-earned finding, when he heard chattering from the south. Gwen and Ribbot, jawing about anything and everything on their minds, strolled over a far hill. Maler set his shovel aside, wiped the sweat from his brow, and called out to them.

Ribbot just shook his head, and Gwen defiantly thrust her beak in the air. "Hmph," was the only syllable that escaped her.

Maler cocked a brow and stared after them. He didn't waste much time thinking about it, though, and focused on retrieving his porcelain prize.

"And then he shuts the curtain on us!" Cheri huffed, her cheeks growing redder with anger. "Needless to say, I was appalled."

"Hm, mm-hmm," was the only reply she elicited from the tanuki shopkeeper as he counted her money behind his register. "Ah, 800 bells, exactly!"

Ding-a-ling!

Their attention was pulled toward the door, through which Maler was backing in, dragging a dirty toilet onto Nookington's plush carpeting.

"Tch," spat Cheri as she carried her rolled up carpeting under her arm and stomped out, purposefully avoiding Maler's gaze.

Tom shook his head and got Maler's attention. "That'll be fine, you can just leave that there, hm?" He began to talk price with the busy human, never once asking where the boy had found the toilet.