Boilerplate Disclaimer: Characters from the movie Zootopia are all owned by Disney. Registered trade names property of their owners.
Sweet Dreams
Ben Clawhauser waved frantically as Nick and Judy entered the First. "A message for you," he explained as they reached his desk. He stared, puzzled, at the pink note, "It says, 'Arret Duhe Wizzletin' ... Huh?"
"Can't read your own handwriting?" asked Nick.
"Third shift desk sergeant. His handwriting is terrible."
"An anonymous complaint about Duke Weaselton," Nick chuckled as Judy scrutinized the message.
"Ben's right," Judy confirmed, "It says Arret Duhe Wizzletin. It's not a real order. We should ignore it."
Nick disagreed, "We should check it out, if Alces doesn't have an assignment for us."
"Oh, what are you doing for Harvest End?" asked the cheetah.
"It's not really Harvest End, Harvest End is–" began Judy.
"We know," Nick sighed. "But in the city we have it on the calendar instead of waiting until farmer Clodhopper plucks the last turnip from the tree."
Judy rolled her eyes, "Turnip trees? City animal! Harvest End should reflect the cycle of nature. Real Harvest End isn't set by the calendar."
"Phaw," scoffed Nick, "Here in the city we work on a schedule. Calendar and clock. You want to call Bogo or Alces and say, 'Can't work today – raining too hard to put crops in the ground'? You need a date you can count on for what's important – the Black Friday sales."
Judy ignored him and turned to Clawhauser. "We're working Harvest End. We got holidays off our first year because we were too inexperienced to trust on a day with low staffing. So we're working them all this year."
"That's so sad. I hate the thought of you eating panda take-out for Harvest End. I'll be at my mother's. You should stop by after your shift – there'll be plenty of leftovers."
"Thanks, but I think Judy and I will start making our own traditions. It's good we're working. Don't have to go to Fox Ridge to see my mom – where Uncle Charlie hates Judy, or go to Bunnyburrow – where her family hates me."
"They don't hate you," insisted Judy, "they just, uh, aren't used to you yet."
"You shouldn't be alone for the holiday," Ben warned.
"We aren't alone, we have each other," Nick reminded him, and gave Judy a kiss. "Now, let's see if we can check on the Duke's activities."
They found the weasel near a busier street than his normal locations, peddling counterfeit watches.
"All right, Weaselton, hold it right there," Nick ordered loudly as they got out of their car. "We need to talk to you." As they got closer he whispered, "Someone called in telling us to arrest you."
"Ya gots nuttin' on me," Duke snarled loudly, "beats it!" He whispered, "Dere is roomers goin' 'round I is givin' youse tips. It is a sitchuatation witch is not salutationist to me healt."
The weasel started to run. Judy tackled him and pulled out the cuffs, "Paws behind your back, Weasel, you're going downtown."
"Nothing to see here, move along," Nick told the gawking bystanders, some of whom were recording the arrest on cell phones. "Probation violation." He pointed at Duke's wares, "And I'll be taking this in for evidence."
The detectives loaded Duke and his sales case into the car and drove off.
"Drop you off on the other side of town?" asked Nick.
"Better youse should book me. I will tells da guys in stir what bums youse is and hows youse is always abusin' me rights."
Nick glanced at Judy, "We could book him on probation violation. The paperwork gets 'lost' and the judge releases him."
"That would... Oh, no," Judy looked back at Duke. "The courts won't be open until after Harvest End! You'll spend at least a couple days in jail."
"Whilst it may not means much to youse, it happens dat stayin' healty is very importants to me. Nuttin' like spendin' da feast day behind bars to shows folk how much youse hates me."
"But, Duke," Judy started to argue. Then she felt a wave of compassion for the weasel. He must not have friends or family with whom he could enjoy the holiday. She and Nick had each other. Duke had no one. A hot meal in the jail was the best he could do for the day. "Okay, if that's what you want. Anything else we can do for you?"
"Tanks, but puttin' me in stir for da feast is all youse needs doin'."
Neither Judy nor Nick remembered the name of the desk sergeant on duty when they came in Harvest End morning. The fox and rabbit duo were known to everyone and he beckoned them over, "Bad news," he warned them, "You got a very angry weasel waiting to see you in Conference Room B."
"I got a bad feeling," Nick muttered as they headed for the meeting.
A conservatively dressed female weasel glared as they entered, "Why have you arrested my Dominic?" she demanded in an angry voice.
"He was–"
"And before Harvest End? Couldn't you let my son eat with his family? Monsters! Sophia was bringing her daughter to introduce... Who do I file a complaint with?"
"That would be Captain Alces," sighed Judy.
Duke stretched out on his bunk in the general short holding cell. He'd miss his mom's cooking, but after his sister let it slip about Sophia's daughter... Jail seemed safer than a female desperate enough to meet him.
"Hey, Duke," Little Joe called, "Murph got a deck, wanna play cards?" Cards and dice were banned as likely to start fights.
"Nah. Tanks but no tanks," Duke responded. He didn't know exactly how Spider Murphy had smuggled in the deck, but he had his suspicions.
–The End–