Animal Crossing: Lame Over
June 19, 2003
2:37 a.m.
It'd been raining steadily for going on three days. Thick brown mud covered the ground like a sheen of fecal dew, and the rivers were filled to their brims with the perfectly blue, pixilated water. A fish darted to the surface, and then quickly retreated into the murky deep, frightened by the sound of running footsteps. A lone figure scurried through the darkness, slipping on the mud and then quickly getting back to it's feet. It raced toward the town square, toward the three squat huts and the large, three-story mansion that towered over them like a strict schoolmaster or a R. Kelly at a daycare center.
Tom reached the door and struggled to lift the gargantuan knocker on it's front. Finally he gave up and began pounding on the thick oak slab of door, struggling to be heard over the poaring rain. A light flickered on in the upstairs bedroom, and over the rushing in his ears Tom heard someone clunking down the stairs. A moment later the door flew open, and Tom threw himself into the warm, dry house.
"Jesus, Tom, it's like three in the morning."
Tom was shivering on the Jingle sofa in the living room, hugging himself and making lazy, half-hearted gestures at the fireplace. Mink stood in the doorway, looking out into the stormy night, but it was useless: the rain was coming down so hard he couldn't see anything past the Gyroid crazily dancing in his front lawn. He closed the door and made his way across the room. Very deliberatly, he took his time lighting the fire. When this has been attended to, and the room was warm and cozily lit, he took a seat opposite the sofa and scowled at Tom Nook, who was now sitting and ringing his smock out onto the floor. Mink winced. That's a Sahara original, a very expensive and rare carpet being mistreated by a stinky fox in a shop uniform.
"Actually," Nook said, "I'm a Tanooke. It's a Japanese-"
"Look, Nook, I don't give a shit if you're the Pope, it's Sunday morning. What do you want?"
"We got trouble. It's Sven."
"Yeah?"
"He's dead."
Mink closed his eyes. He'd been waiting for it for a month now, waiting for them to make the next move. He'd known Gulliver for a long time, worked with him in fact on several deals, and knew how he played the game. Son of a bitch. Sven.
"We needed Sven. Fuck. How?"
"Looks like an axe, maybe a shovel. His head's gone."
"Where's Nosequeer?"
"Nosegay, you know she hates it when you c-"
"Where is she?"
"I-I didn't check, she wasn't with Sven."
"Alright, ok. Look, here's what we're gonna do. Find Nosequeer."
"Noseg-"
"Shut up. Find her, take her to the mayor's. They won't go withen fifty fucking acres of that place, and we can't afford her gone too. When that's done, go home. Tomorrow, you open up the shop, same as always. We can't have any funny shit going on, especially when Joan's in town. If she smells anything fishy, she won't come back."
"Can she do that?"
"She's been doing this too long to fall into any obvious traps and I've worked too goddamn hard on this for it to be blown by that little shit Gulliver and whoever the hell he has working for him. Probably that bitch Nosegay. What the fuck kind of name is that anyway? Was Miyamoto high when he though of this shit?"
"Miyawho?"
"Look, just go. I trust you, Nook. Don't make me angry."
Nook gazed longingly at the coffee machine in the corner for a moment, then threw his smock back on and headed for the door.
"Listen," Mink said, following him,"Don't do anything foolish. Business as usual until I say so, ok?"
Nook nodded and, bracing himself, opened the door and flung himself out into the night.
"Son of a bitch."
MInk closed the door and then sat heavily on the chair beside it, putting his head into his hands and letting out a sob. Sven. He'd been almost positive they'd take down Nook. He was bigger than Sven, he had connections. But Gulliver must have realized how much Sven meant to Mink. They'd been lovers, him and Sven, off and on for seven years. Recently things had cooled down, but they'd talked about maybe getting away for awhile once this job was done. He began to weep openly, glad that at least he'd been able to hide his shock from Nook. Now, now it was personal. It wasn't about bells anymore.
"No, no, you have to keep it together."
He'd worked too hard on this to be brought down by Sven's murder. He couldn't let Gulliver win, not this time. He stood up and hugged himself. Once it'd been taken care of, once the job was done, then he'd go after Gulliver. He should've done it a long time ago, but this time he wouldn't be so forgiving. This time, he wanted revenge.
June 19, 2003
2:37 a.m.
It'd been raining steadily for going on three days. Thick brown mud covered the ground like a sheen of fecal dew, and the rivers were filled to their brims with the perfectly blue, pixilated water. A fish darted to the surface, and then quickly retreated into the murky deep, frightened by the sound of running footsteps. A lone figure scurried through the darkness, slipping on the mud and then quickly getting back to it's feet. It raced toward the town square, toward the three squat huts and the large, three-story mansion that towered over them like a strict schoolmaster or a R. Kelly at a daycare center.
Tom reached the door and struggled to lift the gargantuan knocker on it's front. Finally he gave up and began pounding on the thick oak slab of door, struggling to be heard over the poaring rain. A light flickered on in the upstairs bedroom, and over the rushing in his ears Tom heard someone clunking down the stairs. A moment later the door flew open, and Tom threw himself into the warm, dry house.
"Jesus, Tom, it's like three in the morning."
Tom was shivering on the Jingle sofa in the living room, hugging himself and making lazy, half-hearted gestures at the fireplace. Mink stood in the doorway, looking out into the stormy night, but it was useless: the rain was coming down so hard he couldn't see anything past the Gyroid crazily dancing in his front lawn. He closed the door and made his way across the room. Very deliberatly, he took his time lighting the fire. When this has been attended to, and the room was warm and cozily lit, he took a seat opposite the sofa and scowled at Tom Nook, who was now sitting and ringing his smock out onto the floor. Mink winced. That's a Sahara original, a very expensive and rare carpet being mistreated by a stinky fox in a shop uniform.
"Actually," Nook said, "I'm a Tanooke. It's a Japanese-"
"Look, Nook, I don't give a shit if you're the Pope, it's Sunday morning. What do you want?"
"We got trouble. It's Sven."
"Yeah?"
"He's dead."
Mink closed his eyes. He'd been waiting for it for a month now, waiting for them to make the next move. He'd known Gulliver for a long time, worked with him in fact on several deals, and knew how he played the game. Son of a bitch. Sven.
"We needed Sven. Fuck. How?"
"Looks like an axe, maybe a shovel. His head's gone."
"Where's Nosequeer?"
"Nosegay, you know she hates it when you c-"
"Where is she?"
"I-I didn't check, she wasn't with Sven."
"Alright, ok. Look, here's what we're gonna do. Find Nosequeer."
"Noseg-"
"Shut up. Find her, take her to the mayor's. They won't go withen fifty fucking acres of that place, and we can't afford her gone too. When that's done, go home. Tomorrow, you open up the shop, same as always. We can't have any funny shit going on, especially when Joan's in town. If she smells anything fishy, she won't come back."
"Can she do that?"
"She's been doing this too long to fall into any obvious traps and I've worked too goddamn hard on this for it to be blown by that little shit Gulliver and whoever the hell he has working for him. Probably that bitch Nosegay. What the fuck kind of name is that anyway? Was Miyamoto high when he though of this shit?"
"Miyawho?"
"Look, just go. I trust you, Nook. Don't make me angry."
Nook gazed longingly at the coffee machine in the corner for a moment, then threw his smock back on and headed for the door.
"Listen," Mink said, following him,"Don't do anything foolish. Business as usual until I say so, ok?"
Nook nodded and, bracing himself, opened the door and flung himself out into the night.
"Son of a bitch."
MInk closed the door and then sat heavily on the chair beside it, putting his head into his hands and letting out a sob. Sven. He'd been almost positive they'd take down Nook. He was bigger than Sven, he had connections. But Gulliver must have realized how much Sven meant to Mink. They'd been lovers, him and Sven, off and on for seven years. Recently things had cooled down, but they'd talked about maybe getting away for awhile once this job was done. He began to weep openly, glad that at least he'd been able to hide his shock from Nook. Now, now it was personal. It wasn't about bells anymore.
"No, no, you have to keep it together."
He'd worked too hard on this to be brought down by Sven's murder. He couldn't let Gulliver win, not this time. He stood up and hugged himself. Once it'd been taken care of, once the job was done, then he'd go after Gulliver. He should've done it a long time ago, but this time he wouldn't be so forgiving. This time, he wanted revenge.
