-Cuatro-
"I was thinking," Furrball managed the words mid-yawn, causing his wife to lower her tablet for a moment.
"Two things, actually." The cat grinned slyly, kissing her before she could venture a guess based on his expression.
"I think you'd have saved a bundle if you just bought a Sudoku book instead of that thing," the cat grinned.
Fifi rolled her eyes. Shopping was the one thing the two never agreed on. It seemed as if all of Furrball's possessions were at newest, third-hand. Off the top of her head, Fifi couldn't recall one item Furrball seemed to particularly fancy, save his violin.
"Wouldn't do me much good to get a used one, now would it, mon avare?"
Furrball couldn't speak a word of French, but he knew she was playing with him when she used that particular nickname. He'd surmised that it was a synonym for 'stingy', but he didn't mind the sentiment.
"And the second thing?"
"Hmm?"
"What was the other thing you were thinking?"
Furrball blinked, feeling his mind drift onto other things for a moment. It hit him when he laid his head down again.
"Mini fridge!"
The skunk was confused by this little revelation. "Excuse me?" she inquired.
"They should make a mini fridge that can fit pillows."
"…what?"
"So there's always gonna be the cool side of the pillow waiting for you!"
"And you're talking about me wasting money?" Fifi playfully struck the cat with her pillow, not realizing her own strength as Furrball rolled off the bed onto the hardwood floor.
"Are you alrigh-" Fifi peered over the side of the bed to find that the blue cat had disappeared. Before she could make sense of this mystery, she felt warm breath on her neck.
"We gotta save every penny if we're adding to the clan."
The cat's whisper in her ear sent tingles up Fifi's spine causing involuntary spasms. Reaching over her right shoulder, the skunk gripped the foreign fur and yanked forward, sending Furrball flying over her shoulder straight back down to the mattress.
Furrball rubbed his head as he tried to stop the stars from circling overhead. Apparently time hadn't softened his wife's old Judo skills. Before he could sit up, he felt a weight on his knees going towards his upper torso. It hadn't taken the feline long to realize that whatever restraint Fifi had learned to exercise in public when it came to her affections was not actually lost, but rather concentrated into her actions behind closed doors. The cat grinned as they locked eyes.
Not that he was complaining.
-Cinco-
"You're gonna strip the gears if you don't hit the clutch first! One, then two, then three, alright?" She wasn't exactly sure how to convey alarm and tact at the same time without nagging. Of course, he'd have no choice but to forgive her. After all, this was pretty serious.
Furrball lurched forward, nearly chipping a fang on the steering column as he stalled for the fourth time. Thankfully they were at a stoplight.
"Maybe this weekend, 'kay?"
Fifi had no chance to react as Furrball slipped into the back seat with their son, ducking behind the kitten as Fifi swung her purse at him for giving up. Of course, she had no real time to complain as the light was about to change and ended up hopping into the driver's seat just in time. Glancing in the rear-view mirror, the skunk smacked her husband in the face with her tail as soon as he emerged from behind his feline shield.
"¡Qué vergüenz!" Sparkz sighed, avoiding eye contact with his father. "How embarrassing."
The scene reminded Fifi of Sylvester Jr. and she barely stifled a laugh imagining a paper bag over their son's head. Furrball grinned as well, sharing her thoughts as they turned into a large parking garage.
…
"Well hello there, little fella!"
It actually took Sparkz a few moments to realize that he was the one being spoken to. The security guard was a behemoth of a gentleman and had the kitten not known better, he'd have sworn that the man was too tall to see him.
Don't be rude. Say something, a'ight?
Not particularly in the mood to test his father's patience, Sparkz waved his bandage at the man and flashed him a cheesy smile for a moment before disappearing behind his mother's tail. As brave as he was for his size, ability, and age, Sparkz still harbored ill feelings towards mankind along with an unspoken but prevalent sense of fear.
"I'm afraid that's all you'll get from him," Furrball apologized as he signed in at the registration desk. The guard nodded, knowingly.
"Can't blame 'im. I wouldn't trust my kind either," he replied with a smile. "Subbasement floor 7. They've been expecting you guys."
If the lobby was any indication of the kind of money the investors had spent on the lab, there was a real chance of Sparkz walking out with a brand new paw after all. Leather sofas in the waiting area, an indoor fountain and tiles with a showroom finish as far as the eye could see. This, of course, did little to set Fifi's mind at ease as they entered the elevator. From her own experience, the harder one tries to convey cleanliness, the bigger the mess one is hiding.
…
"Ah, just in time! Come in, come in my friends."
The resident genius wore a look of exhaustion, contrasting his radiant smile and he was sporting more wrinkles on his face than either of his former students recalled him having before. A plethora of different colored chemicals in various sized flasks, test tubes and beakers littered the lab tables, making very little room for the microscopes and other equipment. A few assistants, mostly human adorned in white coats, ignored the guests, so engrossed in jotting notes on worn clipboards were they.
"Penelope sends her apologies," the coyote said, leading them to a vault door in the rear. "Her niece came down with the flu yesterday."
Wile punched in a code on the side of the vault so quickly that not even Sparkz could follow his movements. The Looney Tune grinned, noticing the awestruck look in the kitten's eyes.
"Unfortunately for us, time is of the essence, so we'll have to be a bit brief with the tour of the facilities. You understand, of course?"
Wile might as well have been talking to himself, as three sets of eyes were transfixed on the wonders of medical science before them. Among the three visitors, they would fail to identify a single piece of equipment, had they been asked to do so. Sparkz was particularly drawn to a device, which for all intents and purposes resembled a huge Jacob's Ladder on steroids.
"Don't touch the sparks, Spa-"
Fifi elbowed her husband, denying him the opportunity to finish the lame joke. The cat grinned ear to ear and squeezed her paw in response.
"What we've been able to do so far," Wile began, lifting Sparkz onto a high table so he could get a better glimpse of a maze of fluorescent tubing which seemed to serve no other purpose than decoration, "Is basically non-essentials… A tail here, a toe there, even went as far as an ear on a fennec. That was a real breakthrough." The resident genius beamed, proudly.
"So an entire paw, while difficult, wouldn't be out of the question. With my calculations, and please bear in mind Unlike my old shorts, I really am always correct, we could fit young Sparkz with a super lightweight metal covered by some artificial tissue that's so real, not even an M.E. could tell the difference. So he could definitely get a new paw if we did this, and probably have close to 95% use out of it.
"95%?" Fifi mused, wondering about the limitations five percent would imply.
"Well, he'll probably never be able to work a pneumatic jackhammer or go ice climbing on Mount Fuji, but other than that…"
"¿Puedo tocar la batería, también?" the kitten suddenly piped, having been uncharacteristically attentive for once.
Wile smiled and mussed Sparkz' hair. "No veo porque no, gatito."
Furrball looked from Wile to Sparkz to Wile again, upset that he was inadvertently left out of the loop. Fifi pulled him in close, to whisper in his ear, "He'll be able to play the drums."
-Seis-
So what you think, Tres?
Visits to his only friend's house were relatively few and far between. For one, Tres lived on the lower west side, which was about an hour drive, and more importantly, Furrball didn't completely trust the teal activist. Tres was a walking encyclopedia of conspiracy theories, revolutionaries, and cover-ups. The most frustrating part was that he never really overstepped his boundaries, since losing his eye in his last scuffle, and always backed his words up with facts. Furrball hated that he didn't approve of their friendship and had even articulated his apprehensions to his son once. Nevertheless, Sparkz had no other friends. He was too different to appreciate the average kid's nuances or hang ups. More importantly, the average child was afraid of Sparkz, from his appearance to his juvenile record in New Zealand, which had gone public some time during the second season tapings, thanks to a heartless shock jock.
This meeting was actually unauthorized, as Sparkz had said he was off to buy some new bongos on his own. Fifi hated that Furrball allowed their son to venture into the city on his own like that, but could never actually say so, considering the kind of childhood he had. Furrball had articulated on countless occasions how much stronger Sparkz was at his age than he had been. Even so, it was the skunk's duty as a mother to worry.
Sparkz turned his attention back to his friend, wondering why he was quiet. Tres had spent the past month tinkering with, what could only be descried as some sort of telescope.
Tres…
What do you want to hear? You want me to be happy for ya?
Sparkz flinched, surprised at his friend's tone. Surely he wasn't so petty that he was jealous that he couldn't get his other eye back…
Look at what they're doing to you, Manito. Like you're some kinda computer they can just upgrade when they want just cuz they got money.
Sparkz walked over to the edge of the tunnel as a police cruiser flashed its lights at a speeder. Tres joined him.
You show them that you're pissed that you can't drum right with one paw. So what do they do? They try and correct the problem. You're dangerous when you're pissed. They don't want no liability running around. Afraid you might embarrass them. Get them into trouble. It's cheaper to just throw some money in your mouth to make you happy, you know?
I WANT THE DAMN PAW!
Sparkz stopped his fist from connecting with Tres' jaw just in time. Before he had a chance to reconsider, a maglight shone in the cats' general direction. Before the patrolman could get visual confirmation, the two had escaped in opposite directions.
…
"Sparkz, hon, are you okay? Where're your new bongos?"
"Didn't have the ones I wanted."
Fifi could tell the disappointment on her son's face was deeper than a superficial material emptiness. His eyes were red; both of them this time, and he was trying in vain to hide it.
"No tengo hambre, mami." And with that, Sparkz locked himself in his room.
…
"And then he said he wasn't hungry and locked himself in there."
"He's got a lot on his mind. I know he was excited about the idea about getting the new paw and everything... maybe we should tell him now."
"Tell him wha-… oh. Do you think that's a good idea, love?"
"It's better to do it when he's already upset than for him to get through this and disturb him again later on. I mean, the longer we wait to tell him, the more he'll suspect we were trying to hide it from him."
"You know best, I suppose. Sparkz," Fifi knocked on their son's door, gently. "Can we come in?"
They stayed put for a few moments. Just as they were about to give up hope, they heard the latches and locks lifting on the door. After the last lock was undone, the kitten still didn't open the door. Taking a deep breath, Furrball turned the knob and together, he and Fifi walked in.
There was an awkward silence for a bit, as Sparkz stared at his parents, trying to separate Tres' words with the reality he knew. Finally, he was able to crack a smile and sat on his bed.
"It's nothing," he whispered. Fifi opened her mouth, but Furrball beat her to the punch.
"We need to tell you something now," the cat explained. He elected to use English rather than Catonese, as Fifi should be involved in the conversation as well. Sparkz showed no verbal cues, so Furrball squeezed Fifi's paw and continued.
"Your mother and I are going to try…to…" the cat started sweating buckets all of a sudden and his mouth went dry. He looked at Fifi for help, feeling a bit embarrassed that for all his insistence, he couldn't follow through.
"Sparkz, honey… How would you like to be a big brother?" Fifi said tenderly.
Whatever Sparkz had been expecting, it clearly wasn't this. His eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets and promptly transfixed on his father.
"You two are… mami, you're…!"
"We're trying, son."
The second 'son' left Fifi's tongue, Sparkz's brows furrowed for a moment.
"I'm sleepy," he announced, masking the disappointment in his voice. "Buenas noches." With that, the kitten curled up under his bed. Reluctantly, the couple left him to his thoughts, and inevitably, his nightmares.
Love you, son. Furrball murmured in their native tongue before closing the door. Don't forget that.
…
R-r-r-r-r-r-r-rin-n-n-n-n-n-g!
Instantly, the black paws pulled the pillow over his head tightly, trying to tune out the sound of the phone.
R-r-r-r-r-r-r-rin-n-n-n-n-n-g!
From the looks of the place, he hadn't cleaned in months, nor did he care about how the mountain of cans was a six-pack away from an avalanche.
R-r-r-r-r-r-r-rin-n-n-n-n-n-g!
"Damnit! What time is it?" Sylvester shouted into the receiver.
"7:00."
"F-f-furrball? That you?"
"Sorry to interrupt your 'night'."
"What's-s-s-s done is-s-s-s done. What's-s-s-s the matter?"
"Have you seen Sparkz today?"
"No. Haven't s-s-s-seen the tike s-s-since I taught him that roundhouse last month. How is-s-s he?"
"…"
"Furrball?"
"Thanks. I gotta go."
-Part 2: Fin-
GAH! Curse these short, staccato chapters. If only the days were longer, the inspiration was more plentiful and I could enjoy a good Mountain Dew once in a while. Where is Sparkz? Oh my! Stay tuned 'til next week! Same cat time. Same cat place. Same cat… wait a second. That sounds ridiculous. Look for art associated to this story on my DA page in the future. Thanks for reading! Tell what I'm doing wrong if you are so inclined! Or right. Or left. =)
