I do not own Zootopia, that belongs to Disney. This a fan work made solely for the sake of amusement.
Interspecies Relationship Support Network- Tri-Burrow Chapter
Chapter Three: Fixer-Upper
By: Gabriel LaVedier
"Now, I shouldn't complain about anything that helps but... this isn't a good thing, is it?" Travis asked, as he stood among a collection of painting supplies, including ladders, rollers, brushes, manual sanders on sticks and a few paint sprayers. He was out of his usual formal suit and in some old, casual shorts and a shirt that had been made for weasels, with a faded ad for some kind of agricultural product. "I can't ask this of you."
"Travis, it's family, family does things for family," Ermintrude chittered, snuggling up to Travis' side and kissing near his ear. She giggled lightly and whispered, "Besides, Jules is gonna need this sooner or later too, so it'll help the family even more."
"What was that?" Jules asked, tilting his head and looking over. Jules was like the other Dreyson boys, though the shortest of the five, with rather the most raw bulk, which made him look like a somewhat-dopey but sweetly loveable oaf. His coat was a light sable color, the most similar in tone to his father and sister if slightly lighter, and he was clad in a well-worn pair of paint-splattered denim overalls.
"Nothing, Jules. Nothing..." Ermintrude laughed, gently nudging Travis. "Bigger or smaller, ya think?"
"Hard to find one smaller, unless it's a beech marten like Mrs. Marten. Have to be bigger. You know him better than I do. Would he go all the way up to something like a lynx or maybe a wolf?"
"He's got the nerve. But honestly, I think we're having another weasel in the family. A good addition. But probably a stoat, a big woman."
"No, if it's a big weasel woman, then you might as well imagine a badger or wolverine. He's got the bulk to live up to their expectations," Travis noted.
"And how do you know what a badger or a wolverine wants out of a mate?" Ermintrude asked, tail twitching and puffing.
"Because my father always told me to stick to the spring-weasels. That was what he called the kinds like us, the noodle-weasels, ferrets, stoats, martens, otters, the usual. He said wolverines and badgers had scary women who liked to bulk up, run wild and wanted extremely buff men who put on displays of strength for them. Not a problem for me. I'm an Outsider. And I've got the sweetest lady ever to exist," Travis replied, kissing Ermintrude on the neck.
"Travis..." Ermintrude flicked her tail in a more happy fashion, the puffiness becoming less of a bristle and more of a fluff. "I really don't know. He's got all kind of bikini pictures on the wall. Big and small. I gotta wonder. She's gonna be a professional, with her own company or some kind of management skill. Big Daddy's always got his eyes out for the boys."
"And he had you on lockdown," Travis noted, picking up one of the sanding sticks.
"Oh he just thought he did. You know he never had a chance. I told you I was gonna marry ya, Travis. And I did," Ermintrude sighed, taking up her own sander and setting to work beside her husband.
"Had me going there for a bit. But I always knew being persistent would work," Travis said proudly, scraping off paint as high as he could manage with the extended reach.
"Just show Big Daddy you've got the nerve and the backbone and that's what matters. I always trusted you to stick it out. I knew how much you loved me and what you'd do to prove it. I wouldn't give my heart to just any noodle-weasel that I've had a crush on since I was a little chittering pup," Ermintrude laughed, bumping Travis with a wide hip, making him nearly topple over.
"Gotta shove it in our muzzles?" Will asked, the tallest of the brothers coming to sand near the base of the barn.
"Will, you're seeing Peony Seedcache, you're not that good at hiding it. And everyone knows just how much of her you're seeing," Ermintrude giggled. "A chipmunk? That's cute. You should join. Jules is gonna."
"I'm not an Outsider like you or Jules or Judy or Sharla. It's not for me. Besides... we're keeping it quiet," Will muttered, keeping his head down.
"You know it's not just for Outsiders, they just have more reasons to be around because of all the support and acceptance. But look at Jaguar and Dr. Arctos. They're both predators. It's an interspecies group, not just about diets," Travis explained, switching to lawyer mode partway through.
"Shoulda gone all the way to being a lawyer, Travis," Will chuckled, still hunkered down and looking away as he sanded. "We... we were being quiet..."
"Peony called, ten times. Always asking cute, innocent questions. Oh, Ermintrude, you're married, you know men. What kind of seeds does, well, let's say Will, like, and how does he like them cooked? What's his favorite color of billed cap? Does he wear something besides overalls? What size does he wear? She stopped trying to be coy after a while."
"She's just too cheerful for her own good..." Will sighed.
"Oh it's not Big Daddy you're worried about. She's a tree-critter and from a good family, closely related to squirrels, even. He'd sprinkle a trail of pecan petals lined with peaches to bring her to the house. Who are you afraid of?" Travis queried with an eye ridge raised.
"I... I don't..." Will slowed his scraping and sighed. "Her father is worse than anyone. He doesn't just hate Outsiders, he doesn't just dislike burrowers, and not even just by tradition like Big Daddy likes to pretend, but... he's a... a..."
Ermintrude and Travis both paled as they realized what he was getting at. "A... purist?" Ermintrude whispered.
"Purists still actually exist?" Travis asked. "I mean, most folks go with their own species just because, or near enough if they're half or something. But... a purist? A real purist?"
"He tries to hide it, oh old buck Seedcache tries his hardest to hide it, does all the good stuff he can at the Church, pretends he's generous and good but... I've heard him say some things when he didn't think anyone was listening. I love Peony... but she has no idea that she's in danger if she keeps being so open."
"Don't worry, Will, next time she calls I'll tell her to be a little more subtle. I'll keep you both safe," Ermintrude said.
"Thanks, sis. I mean, maybe we should come. We need the support. There's food, right?"
Ermintrude and Travis both laughed. "Hotdish and other snacks once we get it all set up," Travis chuckled.
o o o
In Bunnyburrow there were more than a few places to shop, but the favorite place for many was one, surprisingly, run by a predator. Weaselton's Wares was like an old general store, scaled up for the populations that tended to be in Bunnyburrow.
The shop was located at the end of the main drag, sitting almost like a warehouse store in slight miniature, full of high shelves and bulk items, but with some trace of the rustic, classic feel still remaining. The proprietor, Meister Weaselton, even still did checkouts, though he had other helpers when there was a rush. He was a middle-aged mustelid, a least weasel with light brown fur that he kept oiled but not greasy, so he looked sharp and presentable. He dressed as he always did, in black slacks, with white spats, a white shirt with thin vertical red stripes, sleeve garters at the middle of both upper arms, gold-rimmed glasses perched on his snout and a green plastic visor.
His shop was properly separated into aisles, but contained only the most essential products for the home, as other stores carried other things. There were canned goods, baking supplies, refrigerators filled with vegetable milks, separate freezers with frozen vegetables and frozen protein sources broken down into fish, insect, vegetable and mix.
One of the few folk in evidence was one of the Hopps children, Jake, about contemporary with Judy's litter, but not quite. He was another standard Hopps rabbit, with a pale cream coat and dark marks on the tips of his ears, a round one over his right eye, speckling on both his hands and his paws, and a spot on his head between his ears. He was dressed almost identically to Meister, except for the glasses and visor.
He looked to be busying himself with restocking, quickly hopping between aisles, deftly carting more products than might have been expected given his slim frame. He shifted, pulled, replaced and zipped off with great efficiency, systematically working his way around the store.
"Slow down there, Jake. You angling for Employee of the Month again?" Meister asked with a chuckle.
"Already a lock. I'm the only employee," Jake cheerfully retorted.
"Well that's just not true," Meister said, his attention suddenly grabbed by the bell at the door. "Welcome to Weaselton's Wares. We're not new, we're not improved, we're not rearranged. Why mess with proven perfection?"
Rob Hopps walked into view, with his usual hangdog expression, pulling a metal trolley behind him. "I have a list here. Mrs. and Mr. O'Pogo need supplies for that... place they're revamping."
Meister took the list and looked it over. "Plenty of crossed-off things. Been hitting the other places I see. Hardware, farming supplies, and now, food, cleaning stuff and... decorations? Well, it's gonna need a housewarming, that's for sure."
"Gimme the list, I'll load him up," Jake insisted.
Meister clicked his tongue and shook his head. "I told you that you're not the only employee. Princess!"
From out of the back area came Meister's daughter, holding her cell phone and tapping away at it. She wasn't in what passed for the uniform of the business, wearing Daisy Dukes cut daringly high on her toned legs, with a tied-off orange gingham shirt designed for a weasel on top, over a red undershirt. She was wearing a green visor like her father, and had some makeup on, some eyeshadow and lipstick. She went along on fish leather platform sandals, decorated with rhinestones. "Yeah, dad? I'm in the middle of something."
Meister handed off the list and tapped on it. "Missus and Mister O'Pogo need supplies for that project the Network is getting up to. I have two employees for a reason, so let's get to it."
"Delegation, right. Okay, Cookies-and-Cream, ten items, with different numbers of each. I'll go by aisle, you load up the trolley," Princess said, standing by the counter.
"No, no, go by size and shape, preference to large, sturdy squares or other load-bearing objects," Jake said
"Are you questioning my methods?" Princess asked, with a slight edge to her voice.
"When I have to. Hard as it is to say, there's more to it than speed and efficiency," Jake answered.
Princess huffed and read over the list again. "Two packs of bottled water, five containers of abrasive cleanser, one package of toilet paper, eight tins of fish in oil, five boxes of granola bars, two packages of sponges, four packages of rubber gloves, two medium, two low-medium, two jars of peanut butter, five packets of party streamers, one packet of glow sticks. Alright, Cookies-and-Cream, go to it."
Jake dashed off with the trolley as soon as he had heard the full list, laying out the two containers of bottled water to leave empty space on the trolley's base. Rob was following him, shaking his head. "Are you gonna take that from her? From a weasel?"
"You mean my boss' daughter? You bet. Besides, she usually knows what she's doing," Jake answered, settling the tubes of abrasive cleanser on their sides in front of the water.
"What, you mean between filing her predator claws and playing her stupid puzzle games?" Rob huffed.
"She does paperwork back there. She prefers her phone calculator for tax work and the profit and loss statements," Jake laughed, placing the package of toilet paper on top of the cleanser tubes, just fitting it at the front of the trolley.
"So you just let her order you around while Old Hob Weaselton does nothing?"
"Old Hob Weaselton is a strict but fair boss, and he intervenes when he needs to. Why are you making so much fuss? This isn't your job and I don't have any complaints," Jake huffed, layering the tins of fish on the toilet paper, and the granola bars on top of that.
"Hey, Cookies-and-Cream, more work, less talk, okay, yakety-yak?" Princess called out, tapping the list, which she had been crossing off as she saw or heard the items laid down.
"I'm telling dad. He'll set that card-cheating fish-ripper straight," Rob growled.
"Just because you hate the job dad got you and hate your bosses doesn't mean we all hate our jobs. Kenneth sure is happy about it," Jake noted, finishing his block of forward material with the sponges and rubber gloves.
"Kenneth turned into a loon when he started going to that crazy Zootopia church. The Solaterra congregation was good enough for the rest of the family, it should be good enough for him. It's such a pain, he's a bunny! But I constantly have to put up with all that stench of fish and her needle teeth, all that disgusting Out..." Rob caught himself and snorted sharply.
"Outdoor stuff like this? Dad got you an office job, just like Kenneth. Not anyone's fault they make you leave the office now and then," Jake said, having laid down the peanut butter and ending his work with the streamers and glow sticks. "Finished! And it's all in a stable block, with the same efficiency."
"You crossed aisles more than once and you know it. But fine, your stack looks stable, if your brother can keep it straight," Princess said, approaching the trolley with a skein of twine. She quickly wrapped the piled collection up, securing it as best she could in a sort of twine web along the sides and front-to-back. "No charge for the twine. Family discount."
"You're so generous," Rob said with a roll of his eyes. "And how are you even going to ring up..?"
Meister pulled off some receipt tape from his old-fashioned adding machine and passed it along. "If they didn't give you petty cash, tell the O'Pogos I have a record and they can pay next time they're in."
Rob pulled a small fold of cash from his pocket and counted out just enough to cover the total. "I didn't think you had a tab system. They don't at the MacroMart."
"And that's why I'm still in business," Meister said proudly.
"And you take produce in lieu of bucks," Princess added.
"Like I'd turn down Hopps family produce. Many's the time good old Stu got through some lean moments with a crate of berries, carrots and cabbage. He would never take a gift. The gentle silver moves me to offer, but he'd only trade plenty for plenty."
"I doubt dad would do that, but, thank you," Rob said, taking his change and giving Jake an odd look. "Better get all this back to the O'Pogos so they can bring it out to the barn. I hear the Dreysons are still out there for whatever reason."
"It's a good project. It makes our burrow feel really cosmopolitan," Princess said. "I might go out there when it's done."
"Why would you even bother?" Meister asked, shooting his daughter an incredulous look. "What's the point of just a lone-jill night?"
"Oh, like I'd go alone," Princess retorted, sticking out her tongue at her father.
"I forbid you to go out when you are not properly engaged," Meister huffed.
"Fine, I won't go..." Princess groused, dropping a wink to the Hopps brothers before making her way into the back once more.
Rob gave Jake another odd look, while Jake, for his part, just shrugged. "That's Princess."
o o o
"Now, the pulley is one of the six classical simple machines," Sharla said, spooling a rope through an intake slot in an electric engine. The rope was run through a standard block and tackle system, suspended from a heavy hook screwed into the ceiling of the barn and leading down through the opening in the loft floor toward a wooden platform, the tackle holding a hook attached to four ropes that came off of the platform. The ropes were attached to homes set in from the corners of the platform, with large, empty holes closer to each corner. "The others are the wheel and axle, taken as one, the lever, the inclined plane, the wedge and the screw. They change how force acts on things, making tasks easier."
"Well, I do like simple," Gideon said, his self-deprecating laughter earning him a slight glare from Sharla. "Sorry, darlin'. Old habits need extra work. But that's real interesting how it makes it so easy."
"Some machines concentrate the work into a point, like a wedge. Think of your kitchen knife. It focuses your energy down into a single point, or along a line, really, allowing that work to be turned into a sideways force that allows you to cut things," Sharla explained, as she looked over the engine she had bolted to the floor. "And sometimes it works by spreading the force out. An incline means you use more distance to move the same amount of mass. Pulleys work like that, just with a long rope."
"I always learn plenty when ya talk, darlin'," Gideon said, looking over the edge of the loft. "Why you got the holes in the corners like that?"
"I plan to put in guide poles from the floor to the ceiling, so it won't swing around. I just need to test the pulley system to make sure this engine can lift the weights we might want to put on it. Standard engineering stuff."
"It's all about doing the same thing over and over. Good work if you can stand it," a voice called up from below.
"You had every chance to do the same thing, Bobby, you were in the classes," Sharla called down. "Can you step up on the platform? That should be a good first test."
"Just don't swing me too much," Bobby Catmull said, climbing up onto the platform and casually sitting down. "Can Jenny join me? Seems like the kind of stress test that would tickle an engineer."
"Oh is Jenny down there?" Sharla asked.
"Sorry, I'm kind of... quiet you know. I'm here," a soft voice called up. Jenny Thicket settled herself by Bobby and leaned against his body
"Okay, get ready everybody," Sharla called, flipping the switch on the engine. The rope was drawn in slowly and steadily, pulled taut and drawing the platform up slowly. Sharla monitored the engine, watching the works as they moved, and sniffing it for signs of strain.
She flipped the engine off when the platform peaked over the edge of the loft floor, revealing Bobby and Jenny. Bobby hadn't changed much, still a dark-coated cougar, though he had gotten long and lank, like other cougars. He was wearing baggy, ripped jeans and a black tank top advertising his musical services. Jenny was a standard honey-fawn-colored mule deer, her ears larger than usual and slightly drooping. She was looking down and holding tightly on to Bobby's shoulder, wearing a pink tank top with a big heart on it, and a pink skirt over pink-and-white striped leggings. Apropos of nothing, she was carrying a small harp, with some electronics attached to it. "How's it look? A pretty smooth ride all told," Bobby noted.
"I'll add the guide poles and set up a remote control system so smaller members can use this as a proper elevator, it should save us from having to install different sizes of stairs. More money for helping others and we get set up faster," Sharla said.
"I may not have finished the whole engineering courseload but I finished my electrical engineering AS, just enough to work with all my sound equipment, so I can tell you this is a pretty good setup. And all of that saves me having to hire a crew. Well, except for Jenny. She's a sound engineer so I have her on the payroll."
"I keep asking him to stop paying me. I'm his girlfriend, I'm doing it out of love. And I want to make sure he sounds perfect," Jenny said with a shy smile.
"You need an income. You have a life to live, and a job helps with that," Bobby noted.
"Well yeah but I'm... sleeping with the boss," Jenny said, almost whispering the last part.
Bobby chuckled softly, whipping out a remote control and pushing a big, red button. A crackle sounded around the barn and a low, barely audible hiss emerged. "I think we wired it right. Give it a little test, honey."
Jenny softly strummed her harp, the sound emerging from all around the barn with a good amount of harmony. She started to sing with a gentle, earnest tone that rose above her usual quiet voice.
"I was born a lowly station hand around a lowly star
My life revolved around the ducts and my table at the bar.
I'd mend the breaks and mind the dials
Keep the guts of that old station clear
And I didn't mind the tedium trials
For I held that aged station dear.
The spacers came and the spacers went and they hardly seemed to care
They barely seemed to know our name, only knew that we were there.
We looked on them like heroes bold
And we worshiped their ion streams
All our lives we were always told
They were the heart of all our dreams."
Gideon and Sharla applauded softly, causing Jenny to look aside with a sheepish smile, her ears dropping a little as they turned pink inside. "That was real nice harp playin', Jenny. And the song was pretty good too."
"Still working the filks, I see. Will you finally join me at the convention in Zootopia? I convinced Gideon to finally join me."
"I... I don't know. I mean, I'd love it but even if I went I'd just hide out at any filking circles and probably not play. I just worked up a little something after reading this old novel called Stationer's Fortune and thought it deserved a song. Others from the same universe had songs. But I'm no Leslie Fisher or Alexander Onager. Just a fan."
"They're all fans, that's the point," Sharla said with a soft, friendly laugh.
Bobby was about to comment when a slight screech ran through the speakers, and a few pops set him to the remote, hitting the off button and cutting off the sound. "Okay... that's a data point."
"Maybe you should have stuck around for one or two of the EE units after you picked up you AS and started working for yourself," Sharla commented. "Are you even certified for electrical? You know the union will train you..."
"I don't need to join the union, I'm not an electrician I'm a musician with some electrical skill," Bobby said with a sniff. "Dad may have found the union useful but I had a different path. There aren't that many electrician jobs out here anyhow."
"You could take over fer yer dad after he retires. We all need our electric gizmos and gewgaws and doodads, even out here. We're what they call a growth area. Leastways that's what Judy tells me. According to her fox that means out-of-town money is gonna come around and make somethin' outta what we got here. It's fine with me, more customers, and the space agency'll keep Sharla here since it ain't just a nowhere place in the sticks."
"As long as they don't ruin the feel. I grew up here, and I like how it is, especially since predators are better received, and Outsiders have more... liberty," Bobby said, smoothly sliding in to plant a kiss on Jenny's cheek.
Jenny's ears deepened in color and she buried her face in Bobby's neck. "I'm just from Deerbrooke. This place is so much bigger and more exciting than over there. I don't know if I could really enjoy much change."
"If you think this is impressive wait until I get you to Zootopia," Sharla said. "Meanwhile, Bobby, hire your dad."
"I can wire a barn for sound without involving my father. This was just the first test. Heck, I'm routing the basic controls through this remote here, just for testing purposes. When it's done it'll all be done through the main mixing board off to the side of the main podium. I'll have the wireless mics set up on the frequency that Jenny's wireless harp amp is on."
"See, this is why I trust him. With minimal interference with normal function he kept my harp acoustic but made it able to be played like an electric instrument."
"Helps that harps don't have resonance chambers anyway. I just wired on some pickups to detect the vibrations and then a wireless system to feed it to an amp, or in this case, the speakers. So see, I can do it."
"A harp is one thing, a barn is another," Sharla huffed. "But... you've got some talent. I'm sure you'll pull it off right. We'll test the engine a bit more then go out and buy the guide poles."
Author's Notes
Filk Music- The best description I ever read of Filk music was, paraphrased "Folk songs for folks that ain't." That is, folk or folk-like music for fictional worlds, though the definition has expanded to any music, usually made by fans, about fictional works, especially sci-fi and fantasy. I'm something of a fan, not big but not merely casual.
Stationer's Fortune- A sly reference to an older sci-fi novel I remember reading, Merchanter's Luck by C.J. Cherryh, which was part of a broader universe of novels and, so far as I know, never had a song written for it, though other novels inspired songs, or at least characters in those novels did.
Leslie Fisher and Alexander Onager- Little homages to favorite Filkers. Leslie Fish is a classic from back in the day. Alexander Adams has been at it for a while, though under a different name previously. If it offends you to know previous performance names, please don't read further. They were formerly known to perform as Heather Alexander.