'Finnick, why, oh why do you insist on wearing such a diminutive suit? We're not hustling "pawpsicles" today, so there's no need to wear the Elephant costume!'

Every so often, usually around Sahara Central, Finnick will insist on wearing his child disguise around to give off the impression of "loving father & son". We basically rely on the idiocy of most mammals thinking that all foxes are alike to pass ourselves off as a family.

Needless to say, it works like a charm.

'We need to create a fake input around here, man! Would it look better if we were two scummy foxes in our mid thirties walking around?' I hate to give him credit, but my short companion has a point.

'The fuck are you looking at?' Way to create an image Finnick; especially when you abuse the locals.

You would probably think it strange, but I actually already have an image to maintain. Its not really beneficial to be a high ranking & well respected official & a serial killer at the same time. In fact, around 86% of killers are everyday mammals working 9 to 5 jobs. That's where the cops tend to search when they need to find a killer.

I, on the other hand, have a criminal record. Petty offences of course. General misdemeanors, small crimes here & there. Nothing hard enough to permit jailtime, but the kind of things a low life would commit.

That is my image. I'm a lowlife fox, but I'm not violent. Mammals tend to look past a fox that one slip up will lead to prison time. On occasion I will be brought in for questioning for some smalltime crimes, but nothing more.

There is no one in Zootopia who suspects a thing.

Except maybe Finnick.

I don't know what it is about foxes & myself, but we've never gotten along. They know something is wrong with me, but they just can't place their claw on it.

And that's the way I like it. Everything is under my paw; everything is under control.

'Hiiii! Helloo? It's me, again!'

Until some stupid bunny & her stupid fucking joke-mobile decide to jump in & ruin my perfectly choreographed day. It's been ten days since I've seen her, & it would be much preferable if she left posthaste.

'Officer Hopps, what a lovely surprise!' Get out of my life & stay out.

'Very funny Mr. Wilde, your sarcasm is not lost on me. No, I need your help answering questions towards a case I'm currently working on, so if you'd be so kind…?'

Her gesture to a nearby bench isn't really welcome to the flow of my day.

'No thank you, rabbit. I'm a little busy for the moment, you know how it is; people to go, places to see… I'm sure you understand.'

She pulled her little joke-mobile in front of my stroller. The very audacity of this rabbit is beginning to make my blood boil.

'No, sir. This is much more important than your ten dollars' worth of popsicles.'

'They're called "Pawpsicles", Judith. And for your information, I make a grand a week. And the way I make that money is by working from Monday to Friday every week so I can afford to put food on my own goddamn table. So as we're speaking, I am literally losing valuable money every second. So please, go interrupt someone else's day, I've got work to do.' This should be enough to shut her up & get her to leave me alone.

Does that carrot pen she's holding have holes in it?

'Please, just look at this picture. You sold Mr. Otterton a "Pawpsicle", right? Do you know him?'

Mr. Otterton?

Oh shit.

Oh for fuck's sake.

That fucking little asswipe Otterton.

'I know everybody, Judith. I also know that there are millions of other mammals you could harass for this information. So please… Leave. Me. Alone!'

This isn't good, this is not good. I can't be involved with the Emmitt Otterton case.

That slimy little creep's case needs to stay buried at the bottom of the Polar Strait, along with his remains. Or most of them…

She keeps fiddling with that pen. I've seen that pen before somewhere, I think in a thrift store maybe?

'Fine—' Good, she's backing off. '—we'll have to do this the hard way…'

She booted my stroller. She booted my fucking stroller.

'Nicholas Wilde, you are under arrest.' This can't be good.

'For-for fucking what, rabbit?' I can't be arrested right now… I'm carrying a fucking meat cleaver for god's sake.

'Felony Tax Evasion.' You sneaky, fucking rabbit. 'Yeah, one thousand dollars a week, fifty two weeks a year, doesn't take a genius to figure out that you've made fifty-two large in a single year. And considering you've reported zero on your tax forms, I'm wondering what else you may be hiding behind that veneer of a snarky fox! Not to mention the five years imprisonment you may face for lying on a federal form…'

You sneaky, little fuck.

'Well, that's all hearsay, isn't it rabbit?'

'I make a grand a week. And the way I make that money is by working from Monday to Friday every week so I can afford to put food on my own goddamn table.'

'Technically speaking, I have the recorded confession right here, so it's not exactly hearsay, wouldn't you say?'

Finnick overheard everything. And now he's laughing. I'm going to kill the both of them if it's the last thing I do.

'She hustled you!' It honestly is exceptionally hard to keep a straight face when all you want to do is slit someone's throat. 'She hustled you good!'

The tiny fucker is going to bail on me. That tiny little shit is going to leave me alone with wonder-rabbit here.

'You give the freak what he deserves, police bunny!' I hear him laugh as he strolls down a nearby alley. He probably thinks jailtime would be good for me. What did I do to deserve such a shitty friend?

Murder people, I hear a small voice curse in the back of my head.

I suppose it does have a point. If I can murder people with close to a straight face, I'm more than capable of handling a police officer. And a rabbit police officer at that!

A rabbit cop with a carrot-pen filled with three-to-five years.

A rabbit cop with an inkling to ruin my life.

A rabbit cop with gorgeous violet eyes.

What?

'—what?'

'I said, start talking Wilde! And If you want to clear your name, I suggest you start listening!'

What the hell was that.

I need to get rid of this rabbit. It's against the code to end her, so I'll just have to redirect her. And I know just the road to take.

It's easy to grin when the cards are stacked in your favor.

'Mystic Springs… Oasis? What is this Mr. Wilde?'

I might even get some pleasure out of this, myself.

'I think the locals call it a "day spa"; the results is still coming back though.'

'I'd prefer it if you weren't smart with me, Mr. Wilde. The quicker I get some answers; the quicker we can go home & get a good night's sleep. Or whatever squalor you crawl into to at the end of the day.'

That… hurt…

What the hell is wrong with me today. I'm a monster. A creeper. Some kind of freak of nature.

And I'm being flustered by a goddamn rabbit.

For as long as I could remember, there hasn't been a single word cursed at me that's affected me in the slightest. I've been called them all, especially on my worktable.

Bastard, Cunt, Monster, Freak.

I've never given a damn about what people called me.

This is a fucking rabbit. My ancestors ate her ancestors; she should be plum fucking scared of me.

She should be… scared…

'—okay rabbit… lets get this over with then.'

I am going to revel in this. It's time this bunny learns who she's messing with.

The smell of vines & old fruit hit us hard the moment the door opens; I can see Yax the very moment the door opens. Yax was the kind of mammal anyone would spit on in the seventies; filth ridden, dreadlocks dripping with bugs of varying kinds, some of which I'm sure if an entomologist were to study the insects leaking from his locks, they'd find around over eight new species.

I'm sure his name isn't even "Yax". Not even the ZPD has any files on what his real name might be. I mean for god's sake, even I'm on the ZPD citizen register! I'm not sure if I should respect him or be disgusted by him.

His smell dictates that I should be the latter.

I can see Judith struggling in her own fashion to reach the front counter. Sucks to be a mammal that lacks night vision. But somehow, someway, she manages to reach the register; with no help from yours truly, I remind you.

'Ahem. Hi. Uh, hello!'

This ought to be good…

'Hello? Hello? Hello!'

I've seen Yax around. He tends to hang out with the typical crowd. Hippies. I don't like hippies. For some reason they piss me off. I feel like if it wasn't for my father, bless his dead, Scottish blood, I would've run wild, never mind the pun, & slaughtered them all.

They seem… like a burden. To everyone.

I do not like hippies.

'Oh!' he seems to have finally ditched his idiotic humming to finally join the real world. 'I'm gonna hit the pause button right there, 'cause we're all good on bunny scout cookies.'

Now this is a joke I understood. I finally understand what all those comedians are talking about when they make jokes. They obviously make them about situations & people they share distaste for. Puts all those speciesist jokes comedians like in a completely new light.

Needless to say, one of the few times in my life, I released an audible laugh.

A very audible laugh.

One so audible, I needed restraining by Officer Hopps just so she was able to speak to the Yak.

This may turn out to be a very enjoyable experience. If she wasn't a police officer searching for a mammal with the very serial killer who removed him from existence, I might have thought about enjoying this rabbit's company.

'Wilde, I swear if you don't keep yourself together, this pen is going straight to the ZPD's front office!' That shut me up.

'I am Officer Hopps, from the ZPD? I'm looking for a missing mammal; Emmitt Otterton, right here, who may have frequented this establishment?'

I think I used the same photo she's showing off when I first searched for that freaking otter. It's hard to believe that such a monster can look so normal on the exterior. I mean he had everything; a loving wife, two lovely young boys, who had done not even a single thing wrong in school. Never started fights, top grades in school…

The ZPD carries more information than you think…

'Oh, you mean Emmitt?' God, at this point I wouldn't even care if she caught me at this point. I just want to get away from this fucking Yak. Fuck me if he doesn't stink

BLUBBER BOY WOULD LIKE TO RESPECTULLY DECLARE THAT ALL OPINIONS IN THIS CHAPTER ARE NOT NECESSARILY SHARED BY THEMSELVES, & ALL PARTIES WHO'S OPINIONS ARE SHARED THEREIN, ARE ENTIRELY THEIR OWN.