The cars, the booze, the fire, the needle. A viscous sludge covered her body in unrestful sleep. She had to claw her way out, rip the sludge apart, break it-
Susie jolted from her dreams with a twitchy punch in the air. She sat up, moaning with the pain of a hangover, sitting up in her hotel bed. The place was a mess. All the lights were left on, bottles littering every surface. Half of her pillows had fallen into the floor, and the mattress misaligned with the frame through all her nocturnal twisting and turning. The old lizard apologized to her agonizing bones as she threw her feet onto the floor. The time on the nightstand's clock read '9:09 A.M." At least it's early, she thought, turning off the lamp.
After the couch cushions were back where they were supposed to be, the old lizard sat down in front of the television. She didn't feel like getting back up, so whichever channel was on would've had to do. A black and white commercial for a nasal spray ran, a human holding up a bottle of the stuff next to his handsome face and sparkling teeth. The screen went black before fading into a frame full of a big band plucking and banging their instruments as the camera panned over to another human in a nice suit. He was an older man, very clean and proper, wearing slick glasses, pure white hair slicked back to hide a bald spot. He waved to the audience and the camera as it zoomed in on his face.
"Comin' to ya live from the Sammy Graff Show, I'm your host, Sammy Graff, heh. And today, we have a special guest-"
The camera panned once more to a monster lady sitting cross-legged in a leather chair, smiling and waving a little as the crowd whooped and hollered at her presence. Her blonde hair flowed all the way to her abdomen, her brown fur glistened under the spotlight…
"Noeellllleeeee Holiday!"
Susie sat up in her seat in disbelief. Her heart raced, eager to see the doe onscreen again as it cut back back to Sam.
"We'll be having more guests later today, including an interview *and* musical number by the Birch Boys- America's only all-tree band! But without further ado, Mrs. Holiday!" The host pranced over to the seat next to her and sat down next to the deer in an identical leather chair, reclining casually. "Hello!"
She smiled, giggling under her breath. "Hello, Sam." Her voice was just as sweet as the first day they met. Aged like fine wine.
"What has Noelle been up to of late?"
"Well, we finished shooting Myer's Run… I want to say about a month ago, though it's been more like two or three, haha."
"It hits theaters next week! I've seen the press release, personally, and I can say your performance was fabulous!"
"Thank you! We all worked very hard."
"Of course. I've also heard you've been making waves on Broadway?"
"Oh yes- I've a role in an upcoming showing of Death of a Salesman. Michael Cox will be directing it- he's very good."
"Busy year, huh?"
"You could definitely say that! But it's certainly enjoyable- if it weren't, I'd probably be in the grave…"
Susie's eyes fluttered as she passed between consciousness and unconsciousness. A half full bottle of scotch still sat on the coffee table, so she grabbed it, spinning off the top and guzzling the stuff down. Staring at the ceiling, she scratched her neck, closing her eyes for a moment. Coming back to, an entirely different topic had emerged on the screen.
"-the war in Vietnam is just, its just bad, Sam, it's a tragedy-"
"But people, not me personally, think that if we're going to stop Communism, it's over there. That very well could be true, but-"
"Those people don't even know what Communism is!" Noelle seemed passionate, balling a tight fist over her lap. "Let me tell you all about it…"
The lizard's eyes went heavy as she sunk further into the couch, breathing heavily through her nose. Been years since she had this much to drink, she thought. Susie closed her eyes, letting herself slump onto the armrest. The TV was nothing more than a monochrome blur...
June 27, 191X
Susie awoke with sun rays washing over her through the guestroom's curtain. Still wearing yesterday's clothes, she jumped out of bed and into her boots and jacket. Her morning ritual was minimal, and not much more than getting dressed, but a new routine was slowly forming. Almost every day, if she woke up early enough, Susie would crawl over the bed and peek through the blinds to the apartments across the street. There was one window that caught her attention, the one on the third floor with the red drapes.
Like the backdrops of a theater, the drapes were slowly pushed to the side, revealing the girl behind them. The doe met the morning sun with keenness, soaking in its holy light. She started lifting her cream-colored nightgown over her head until it dangled on her forearms, and one could see a hint of the golden fur of her hips from behind. Suddenly, the doe dropped below the windowsill as if to pick something up, and when she came back the nightgown was replaced with a small pair of green panties. Susie could see more of her body, so thin and dainty, as the doe held the undergarment with splayed fingers. In a moment, she turned her back to the world, bent over, and…
Susie swooned at the sight, practically drooling all over herself, but a little voice interrupted her moment.
"Hey. Sooz." Kris stood in the guest bedroom door, half dressed in a sweater and boxers. He hadn't even bothered to put his horns on yet. "Mom wanted to know if you wanted toast."
"Ah, no, I've got a guy that'll get me some grub." She peeked out of the blinds once more, but the angel had already disappeared behind her drapes. A bit disappointed, the lizard twisted back to Kris. "I'm actually gonna go in a sec if ya wanna come with."
"Sure. I'll tell mom and dad."
"Don't! Or do, ack, I dunno… it's a lil ways downtown, they might get worried."
"You think they'll be less worried if I'm gone and I didn't tell them where I went?"
"Yeah, whatever. Just hurry up." Susie got up and strutted out the door, shoving past Kris in the process. Nonplussed, he went back to his room and pulled on some pants and shoes before following her down the stairs, seeing Asgore flip the Closed sign to Open.
"Hey dad, we're going on a walk." Kris announced. He garnered the goats attention as they made their way out of the shop.
Asgore leaned against the window with a bit of curiosity and fatherly intuition. "Oh…? Where are you headed?"
"Around the block maybe," Susie answered, cutting Kris off just as he started. "Nowhere in particular, sir."
"Mmm… I see. Well, I won't stop you. Just don't cause a ruckus, you hear?"
"'Course, Mr. Dreemurr. C'mon, Kris!" Susie dragged the younger human by the arm out of the store.
The pair ambled down the street past a few ragamuffins and working men, the number of which seemed to be falling recently. Susie glanced at the floor where the girl appeared as she walked past, but she wasn't there. Instead, another deer sat cross-legged on the fire escape, dressed in filthy, billowy trousers and a loose, boyish button-up. Her clothes were covered in black ink, not dissimilar to her jet black bun of hair, contrasted by woody brown fur. The deer puffed on a cheap cigar, watching the two as Susie watched her.
"So, Susie." Kris started. "Why'd you get beat up last week?"
"I told ya I fell down the stairs, twerp! Besides, that was a week ago, why ain't you giving it up?"
Kris put his hands in his pockets and looked to the sky, pondering as he walked. "Because we're friends now. And friends tell friends what's going on, right?"
"Psh." It was true. The more she hung out at the shop, the more the little gremlin grew on her. It seemed like it was more than just getting used to him, too. She liked how blunt Kris was; he said it how it was more often than not, and he wasn't a snitch, either. "I guess it ain't nothin', just… embarrassing."
"Well, what happened?"
"The immigrant's kid and his dumb fucking yes men!" She exclaimed, kicking a can into the road. "Called me a goddamn hooker! Said I was cheap, too! I ain't nobody's whore- and if I was I'd be top of the fucking line, capeesh!?"
"So you got into a fight."
"I beat that ruski into the fucking sidewalk! But his buddies got on top of me. Bunch of pussies." Susie hacked up a loogie and spat it on the cobblestone and wiped her mouth with a scowl. "If it weren't for them I'd have killed that Russian fuck!"
"Sounds like a bad time had by all." He threw a stray rock into an alley, watching it skitter along the ground until it hit a dumpster. He realized they were getting closer to the shore as the smell of salt and the sound of music became less and less distant. "Where are we going, again?"
"Don't worry about it, alright? We're almost there."
"You ought to be less shady. My parents will catch on and they won't let you stay at our place anymore."
Susie rubbed her temple and shook her head. "It ain't even that shady. It's called doing favors for people, that's it!"
Seagulls flew overhead as they passed the recruitment office, lined with colorful posters of Uncle Sam and proud marines in formal wear. Discarded newspapers stuck to Susie's feet, "U.S. Troops Land in France," it'd read, just before getting carried off in the wind. The street cars weren't running, and only a scant few machines drove either to and fro. Though the silence was perforated by the sounds of the beach, the waves and the people, it still unsettled expectations… there was always a deluge of people on the street before.
"Aye, we're here!" Susie stopped Kris in front of a whitewashed bar by the name of "Fat King's Castle", subtitled "Bar and Gambling Hall" in pleasant cerulean print. A few loiterers were thrown out by bouncers, collapsing on the pavement before struggling to their feet.
"And stay out!" The bouncer, a Rudinn with a bowler placed perilously upon his diamond head, wiped his hands of the two doddering drunkards. He backed inside, and that was Susie's cue to go in.
"Susie. That's a bar." Kris stopped on the sidewalk twiddling his thumbs. He looked around, noting how few people there were compared to the usual, starting to feel nervous. "I can't go in."
"Afraid of the big bad beer? This is where we're getting grub. Starve if ya want, twerp!" Without hesitation, she practically kicked in the door and waltzed in like she owned the place. Remissing to stay outside on his lonesome, Kris went in after her.
Inside was a rowdydow scene of smoke clouds and gamblers. Men sat with women on their laps and shot in their hands, throwing up hundreds of dollars and losing every last penny at the drop of a hat. It didn't matter- they'd be back tomorrow. Every nook and cranny was full with every shade of human and species of monster, drinking whiskey in the booths or shuffling to the muffled gramophone playing the latest hit. In the epicenter was the bar, a tower of booze that stretched to the ceiling, manned by one big, mean, ugly son of a bitch.
"King! Aye, King!" Swimming through the ocean of patrons, Susie made her way to the bar, waving her hands to get the bartender's attention.
The colossal publican had to bend to serve his shots, his head not far from the ceiling. If he wanted, he could serve three of them in the palm of his clawed hand. He wore an ill-fitting blue vest and shirt over his cream-colored fur alongside a pair of grey slacks that clung tightly to his legs. Finding a lapse in the stream of customers, the gigantic monster wiped his nose and took a deep breath. Just so, he saw a certain purple lizard wading toward him. "Look what the cat dragged in!"
"Psh, whatever!" "Pushing past one last drunk, Susie met with the King at his place at the counter. She leaned on it, exhaling like she just ran a marathon. "Why're you so fuckin' busy this time of the day? It's nine o'clock or whatever!"
"Strikes, girl." Another man stumbled up to the bar with a dime in hand. He snatched it from him and poured another shot of liquor, sliding it to the guy, but he could barely even pick it up. "Heh. Anywho, all these boys're from the meat packing plant- why be a scab when ya can drink yer ass off from morning till midnight?"
"Interesting…!"
"Let's cut to the chase. You wanna job, don'tcha?" A silver dollar flew into his wrist and, without even breaking his concentration from his teenaged henchman, sent a bottle of brandy skating across the countertop. The King continued as he put the dollar in his pocket, even as its recipient whooped and hollered in the background. "Ain't much I can trust a scaly yob like you to do right now. And who's this?"
Susie looked to her side, finding a short, nerve wracked human by her side. Kris half-heartedly regarded the King before Susie spoke up for him. "A friend! I was thinkin' if I provided my services, me and him could have a nice breakfast here…?"
"Angel take ya, Sooz, you're killing me!"
"What!?"
"I'm screwin' witcha, yob!" He grinned and shook his head, fleshy jowls wobbling. "You do me a favor, I do you one, that's how it works around here. Tell ya what, that grocer schmuck down the road's a little late on his payment. Collect, and you and your pal've got free reign to the kitchen, eh?"
"Which one!?" Susie bellowed, trying to beat the growing cacophony of the crowd.
"You n' him have met plenty of times! You know who!"
"Ohhhhhh!"
"One last thing- take Jay with you before I beat his ass. I love the bastard, but he's screwin' with the players upstairs, ya know?"
"Oh, no problem, no problem! Ain't seen Lancer in a minute..." Susie looked at the balcony overhead, light seeping over its edges. People leaned on its guard rails peering down at the party below, seemingly less rambunctious than the lot downstairs. Some of them turned behind them after a loud thump, laughing and yelling at who in all likelihood was Lancer. "Consider it done, King!"
They bid each other farewell as a swarm surrounded the bartender once more, Susie pulling an anxious Kris around by the arm. Someone passed out on the staircase up, so the lizard rolled him out of the way and onto the floor with a boot. Kris stared at the guy for a second before running up behind Susie, who'd made it up to the top step in what seemed like the blink of an eye.
The scene upstairs was far different from the one below. While the bar was crowded and dark, here the place exuded decadence and warmth. Mounted in golden frames, pictures of the King's family and friends lined the walls, under which lounged strikers and their girlfriends. The place glowed with sunlight and flickering wall lamps, illuminating the hemorrhaging wallets all too clearly. As the gamblers sat around Blackjack and Roulette, a few unused craps tables had become a playground for one certain monster.
Lancer was the spitting image of his father, scaled down to a bite size. Being an avid fan of both climbing and jumping, he had taken to the idea of getting up on the tabletop by way of the stool and attempting to hop over to each one. By now he'd garnered a small audience, waiting with bated breath as he stood on the third craps table, ready to pounce for the fourth and final one. He *would* achieve his goal, and he *definitely* would become a storied hero for it. The little monster reared back, ran for his goal, hopped off the edge- and flopped on his face between the two tables. The patrons laughed imprudently as Susie and Kris came to scrape him up.
"Hey you, bum!" She shook him violently, stopping when he began murmuring under his breath.
"Owuh, what happened!?" Slowly he looked up, seeing a blurry purple mass above him. "Who're you…?"
She grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and put him on his feet, regaining his balance for a moment. Rubbing his eyes, he immediately recognized the older monster clutching him. "Sooz! There ya are!"
"What in Angel's name were you doin' anyhow, shithead?"
"I was jumpin' the tables! Ya know, for my reputation!" He gave a ma che vuoi for extra emphasis. "People see me on the tables, they'll wanna talk about it, get it?"
"They'll think you're a stupid little kid," She said, patting him on the cheek. "Cuz that's exactly what you are. Now c'mon, we gotta go!"
"Where?"
"Grocery down the street. It's for your dad, you know how it is."
Lancer wiggled like an overexcited pup at the notion of money making. Susie always gave him a little cut after a job, and he could already see the piles of hotcakes in front of him. "Oh boy, stackin' dough, I love stackin' dough, it's magic, I-"
"Shut up and c'mon, ain't got all day." She stood up and went for Kris. He had stayed back, leaning against the balcony and rubbing his arm.
"WAIT! Let's go out the fire escape, less people'll see us!" Lancer declared, stomping over to the window past gawking gamblers.
"What, why? You afraid of leavin' your own establishment?"
"Eh, well, somebody's been looking for me, and it ain't nothing good!" He feebly pulled on the window as guests got out of his way. Susie took Kris by the hand to catch up with him.
"Who? Tell me who!"
"... Pyotr. I ripped him off yesterday. He'll whoop me if he sees me!"
"That no-good motherfucker!" Susie cringed, grip tightening around Kris's hand at the sound of the slav's name. "Listen, Lancer, if we see him and his gang around… we'll whoop them! You ain't gonna be afraid of none of them pricks, got it?!"
"Heh… I guess you're right… they ain't no match for us! ESPECIALLY with the new guy!"
Kris awkwardly waved as Susie wrapped him up in a deathgrip hug. "This is Kris! He's my new pal, ain'tcha, chum?"
"Yeah. Hi."
"Well what're standin' around for? Let's go!" Lancer lifted the window open and hopped out onto the fire escape, friends following suit.
This side of the city was always sandy. Strong winds would carry the stuff from the beach all the way into the sidewalks, and no matter how hard the shopkeepers tried, they could never sweep it off their doorstep. The whole block was marked by an omnipotent graininess that seemed to permeate even the air. Susie was particularly sensitive to this. It got into her scales easily, making her itch to high heavens until she could take a dip or bathe. As they walked down the promenade, Susie was starting to feel it already. She scratched her arms and hands to little effect- and it made her irritable, shortening her fuse.
"Is it a holiday or somethin'?" Lancer asked nobody in particular. "Ain't no people!"
"Well… there's a big strike." Answered Kris.
"But they's still people out when they strike. I don't get it!"
"Would you twerps shuddup? We're here!" Susie stopped and pointed at the shopfront: Wilkinson Bros., it was called. It was a newer building, with a more "in" look than many others around the city. Indeed, all of them were relatively new, the old models tore down for risk of falling apart. Susie was there for its construction, sitting on the beach on hot summer days as a little girl, watching the workers building them up…
"This is that fartface's place…! Can I hit em Susie, can I hit em!?"
"Aye, Lancer, lookit that." Susie pointed out a butterfly fluttering behind Lancer's head and toward the ocean. Instantly he was fascinated, bouncing off onto an adventure. Susie chuckled and bumped Kris on the shoulder. "Cool trick, huh?"
The shop doors flung open at Susie's bequest, marching in with her human friend towing meekly behind. An odor of tobacco and coffee mingled with the residual sand, making the lizard sneeze, much to her embarrassment. Trying to repair the tough girl act, she straightened up and met eye to eye with the grocer of the hour. He gave the duo a death stare, a red-headed human with a less than sunny disposition. He stood in front of a wall lined with every canned and boxed good one could think of, from cartons of cigarettes to porridge; he leaned against a counter which, besides his trusty register, was full of jars of sweets and other delights. He spoke in a raspy voice like he had a stuffy nose. "Can I help you two?"
"Yeah, *sniff*, yeah," she answered, pretending to browse as Kris tagged silently along. "I'm lookin' for some dough, actually."
"We don't sell any."
Susie grit her teeth and scratched her left hand as she approached the counter. Kris scanned its woodcut surface, noting the hard candy and mints piled into their respective jars. His eyes landed on a rack housing an assortment of small knives. Switchblades with carved wooden handles, one with its blade on full display. Kris remained slack jawed at the sight of the things as he and Susie crept toward the hapless cashier.
"Don't be like that. We've all gotta make a living somehow, right?" She placed her hands on the counter, tapping her nails. "Maybe ya don't remember me?"
Kris reached for one of the switchblades, fingers brushing against its finely crafted metal, before the grocer snatched his hand and held it away. "A buck fifty for that, chump!"
"Think you can just talk to my buddy like that? You know who I am?" Susie paused to bait a response, but he wasn't biting. Uncomfortable silence ensued as she cooked up a different approach. "... I guess you wouldn't. You brother Frank would, though, wouldn't he? Always did all the talking around here. Where's he at, huh?"
He crossed his arms and shook his head. "Shipped to Europe like everybody else. Now if you aren't gonna buy something, I suggest you make an exit."
"Off to fight krauts? How patriotic! It'd be a shame if he came home without this place. Twenty bucks, just like usual, Mr. Wilkinson."
"You know what's a shame? That two-bit, greaseball pimp 'King' sending out his underaged streetwalker to extort people- that's a real shame! Now get out, you little bitch!" He pointed toward the door with a scowl- and without another word, Susie took his arm, slamming it down and pinning him under her grasp.
"You IDIOT." Susie grabbed him by the hair, mashing his face into the counter, throwing him into the row of goods on the wall. A tin of coffee fell on his shoulder and burst open as he scrambled to get up. The lizard hopped to his side of the counter as jars were knocked onto the floor and shattered. "I've been waiting for this- ever since I got in this place, I've been waiting for a fuckin' excuse!"
Kris watched a bloodthirsty Susie lunge forward with absolute malice, yet she tripped up, collapsing unintentionally to her knees. There was a terrible racket as even more stuff tumbled on top of them while carnage ensued. Uninterested in watching them trade blows, Kris folded his hands behind his back and went further into the store. Grunts and yelling were background noise to the young human's shopping spree, from mints and Toblerone in his pockets to Oreo tins and loose pieces of monster candy stuffed in his sweater. As the grocer had his head banged against the wall, Kris trotted over to the produce, finding a ripe green apple and munching on it. It was down to the core when the beating finally came to a stop.
"And that's that!" Susie declared, standing triumphant above her out-of-it opponent. She spread her arms like an eagle like a mock boxer at the end of a match before chuckling, popping open the register. "Twenty dollars- just like usual, buuuut…" She took the money and an extra five dollars, holding it up for her victim to see. "Cleaner's fee, eh? Hehe. Nice knives, too, I think I'll take one!"
Kris ogled his new knife as he and Susie sat around the breakroom table. Lancer would've joined them, but he'd already eaten according to his dad, and was told promptly to "fuck off". To call the spot a break room was a bit of a stretch, as no walls separated it from the kitchen, just a small roundtable with three rickety chairs to sit in tucked away in a corner. But considering who ran the place, it was a miracle even that was provided. The teens munched on Kris's plunder as the chef, the only one in this early, cooked up a storm.
"You kids are so lucky, so very lucky," he'd say. "I'm da best cook da King is EVUH gonna get."
He was a monster of peculiar proportions and mannerisms. His body was like a spinning top with arms and legs, as was his head, perfectly symmetrical mustache sprawled across his flat face. Often he'd go on talking to no one in particular, thinking out loud. Italy was his homeland, and one could not hope to find a better stereotype than him.
"It is ready!" Declared the cook, looking especially accomplished with what he'd prepared. Deftly, he decorated the plates with cold cuts of beef inside a barrier of scalloped potatoes, neatly placed like a line of fallen dominoes. It made a plain dish seem like something decadent indeed. "Mangia, mangia che cresci, i miei figli!"
Kris bowed his head and cleared off the table of wrappers, setting his oreos on the vacant chair next to him. With the savory scent of beef wafting to her nostrils, Susie could hardly wait to tear it apart. She rubbed her hands with hungry glee as the chef laid a plate in front of her. Just as the chef was to pass out utensils, the rambunctious lizard had already started wolfing down the meat with her bare hands.
"I dunno whatchu just said,", she mumbled between mouthfuls. "But this's the bee's-fucking-knees!"
The chef noticed Kris hadn't even started eating. He prayed to the Angel, thanking them for the meal under his breath. Susie, on the other hand, had already demolished half the plate.
"Not familiar with the mother tongue…? Ah… my mama say that all the time when I was a kid. Always she say it when we eat, me and my brothers, you know."
"Mmhmm." She licked her fingers clean of the beef's juices, plucking stray pieces of food from her shirt. For the chef it felt a bit bad seeing his work demolished without a second thought. Kris, however, had just barely taken a bite out of his first potato, seeming lost in daydreams. A strange lot, he thought.
Without much else to do until one o'clock, the chef decided it best to strike up more conversation. "Susanna. Your papa, I have not seen da man in forever, how is he?"
"What?"
"Your papa, Cesare, you know?"
She pushed away the empty plate with dampened enthusiasm. "You know my dad, huh."
"Susanna, I knowuh everyone." He pointed at Kris, who had a strip of beef hanging out of his mouth. "I know even HIS papa, hohoho!"
"Ah." She looked down with pursed lips. "He's…"
"Oh no, oh no, something happened-"
"Nono. He's fine. I'm just… tired. Don't worry about it."
"Oh..." The chef frowned and stroked his angular chin. He had a sneaking suspicion she didn't want to talk about it. "Scusami."
Kris sucked in the piece of beef like a noodle and chewed it up. He looked Susie over with a more critical eye, and she looked… sad. The chef walked away as she scratched her neck with a far away gaze, sighing. The young human decided it was best not to pry and stabbed another scallop with his fork.
A little past eleven was when they finally left the bar. Lancer, as per usual, begged to tag along with his older friend. This time, unlike all the others, she obliged him. Kris couldn't help but grin as Susie hoisted the rascal onto her shoulders and let him pretend to be an airplane. It made him happy; most of all because Susie was happy. Seeing her like she was in the kitchen was unsettling, somehow.
"Ayo Kris! Imma fighter n you're a dirty kraut!" He made finger guns at the human before making gun and engine noises. "Ratatatatatat, brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, ratatatatatatat, wirrrrrrrrrrrrow,"
Kris put a hand over his chest in mock agony, throwing his head back. "Ow. You got me."
"Damm right!"
Susie chuckled as she listened to the play fight. A few more people seemed to be about now, women in black and their children. Oldfolk in outdated tophats and cutaways wandered around with their canes, smoking on pipes. Once again the machines drove past, intersecting with the streetcars. Still, many of the young men remained missing.
One sight made her stop in her tracks, though.
"Aye, Sooz, what's the matter? I'm havin' a dogfight here, y'know!"
"Here," Susie lifted Lancer over her head and dropped him on his feet. "Go kill Kris on the ground for a while, go on."
"Fine…!" He pouted, but it wasn't long until he warmed up to the idea. Playing soldier was a lot different to playing airplane. One had to diversify their palette from time to time. Kris watched as Susie jogged across the street with a pep in her step. He knew what she wanted. On the opposite sidewalk, wrapped in black and white, his old childhood friend…
Noelle strolled along gently with an envelope held between her fingertips. The doe fiddled with her braided bun after a light breeze came through, but it hardly mattered. Those golden locks hadn't moved an inch. By chance, she looked to her right as an older couple passed her by. There Susie stood, just out of traffic, a streetcar buzzing off behind her. She wore a mischievous smile on her face, sizing the doe up just as she approached her. Noelle, heart fluttering and nerves racing, looked to a nearby alley just ahead before prancing on in. Susie, of course, followed.
With her head cocked and a deep blush Noelle met with the girl from the flower shop. Susie inched toward the quivering deer with hands firmly planted in her pockets. She'd never show it, but she was just as excited and anxious in equal measures.
"H-Hello," Noelle murmured, voice acute yet charming, even saccharine. "I-I don't believe we've p-properly met…"
"You're a friend of Kris's, ain't ya?" Susie replied. She wore her tough mask perfectly. "Holiday."
"Noelle… N-Noelle Holiday. And you're… and you're…"
"Susie. At your service." Her grin widened at the sight of the deer practically melting before her.
"Well… i-it's nice to finally meet face to face… Y-you enjoyed the… thing… didn't you?"
"Huh?"
"Kris said he caught you peeking through the blinds last week. So after I just… I just made sure you s-saw…!" Noelle descended into a light giggle as though she couldn't even believe the words came out of her own mouth.
"... Ain't you on the make." Susie parted her coat, slowly unbuttoning her shirt. "You showed me yours. I'll show you mine, dig?"
"Wait, in the a-alley!?" Panicked, she swirled around to see if anyone was around. Anybody could turn a corner and see the ordeal at any moment. "Don't you think that's… quit unladylike-"
"So it was ladylike when you showed a stranger your tush? Psh." Shirt undone, Susie ripped it open, revealing a chest unfettered by a bra or corset. "I betcha like that, don't ya?"
Noelle gasped and covered her mouth in sheer shock, then her eyes in abject shame. But she wasn't so pure as to avert her gaze for too long. The doe spread her fuzzy finger and, upon seeing Susie give her left tit a good squeeze, burst with excitement and closed the distance between them. An ornery hand went to cop a feel although the lizard smacked it away.
"Looksies, freak, no feelsies!" She done up her shirt in a hurry, closing her jacket over her chest. "Later, lesbo."
Susie turned round and walked away like nothing had even happened, calling out to her two buddies in the street. Noelle could only stare blankly, overwhelmed and flustered. She ran her palm against her forehead, unable to do much else, before remembering the emvelope in hand.
"Dearest Father,
I miss you deeply. I can only hope this letter finds you in peaceful conditions..."
"Oooh you rattle my leeeeaves!"
The old lizard's eyes lazily flitted open. She sat up, the buzz of the television nothing but a monotonous drone. Passed out again. Her head throbbed like nothing else, much worse than before her impromptu nap. Stomach churning, she reached for the telephone next to the couch. Her hand missed the receiver a few times before she got it. She coughed and held it up to her ear, dialing "7".
"Room service." Answered the other line.
"Uhhh… I need a maid… and a cab. Be a dear and call for those… things..."
"Certainly, ma'am. Would you like anything else?"
"No… thanks…" Susie hung up, slamming the receiver.
Now all she had to do was get up.