ZOOTOPIA
(Parody of Chinatown)
TW: Talk of sexual themes.
Nick burst into his office, slapping a newspaper on his knee. Cheera looks up at him with a concerned expression but before she can speak, the fox calls out.
"Duffy, Walsh," Nick called out.
Walsh walked out of Nick's personal space, and Duffy through theirs. Walsh closed the door to Nick's office. The fox slowly went around to Cheera's desk and spoke to the feline.
"Cheera," Nick began, "Go on elsewhere for a minute, I gotta speak with the guys."
"But, Mr. Wilde," Cheera began to protest.
"Cheera," the fox said, his voice sounding as if he was insisting.
Cheera stood up and said, "Yes, Mr. Wilde." before walking out of the office. Nick turned to his two counterparts and grinned. The fox then began to recite the joke Barney had told him.
"So there's this fella," Nick began, "Who's tired of screwing his wife."
"Nick, listen," Duffy interrupted before being cut off.
"Shut up, Duffy, you're always in a hurry," the fox retorted before continuing the joke, "And his friend says why not do what the seals do? So he says what do they do? His friend says the seals they screw for a while. Just listen a second, Duffy..."
Nick failed to understand his friend's concerning glances, nor did he hear the sound of the door to his office open behind him. The fox continued telling the joke.
"...And then they stop," Nick continued, "and they read a little and they screw some more and they stop and smoke and then screw some more, and then they stop and they contemplate the moon or something, it makes it more exciting. So this guy does just that, He screws his wife, then reads some magazines, then he screws some more, and then smokes a cigarette, and then screws some more. And just as he gets up to go look at the moon..."
The fox began to break up but managed to finish the joke.
"His wife says," Nick said, "'What's the matter with you? You're screwing like a seal!"
Nick leaned on Cheera's desk, laughing very hard. Only then did he turn around and noticed the people who had been standing behind him the whole time. Nick lowered his gaze toward his chest height in order to meet the gaze of two violet eyes. A female gray-furred rabbit, in her late twenties, and well-dressed yet small, her ears were the only thing to make her height big enough to meet the fox's. The sight of her is so stunning that Nick nearly gasped. Behind her stood a taller figure. An elder, grey-furred coyote, wearing a tuxedo.
"Mr. Wilde?" the rabbit asked, her voice firm yet sweet.
"Yes?" Nick replied, confused about the meaning of this.
"Do you know me?" the rabbit asked, her ears twitching in anticipation.
"Well," the fox began, pondering on an answer. "I think I... I would've remembered."
"Have we ever met?" the rabbit asked, as her head was bent back to look up at the fox.
"Well, no," Nick answered.
"Never?" the rabbit questioned, awaiting confirmation.
"Never," the fox replied, his ears twitching with confusion.
"That's what I thought," the rabbit said, her voice now soothing yet still firm. "You see, I'm Mrs. Judy Hopps. You know, Mr. Hopps's wife?"
Nick is staggered at her sentence. He glances at the newspaper and back down to her.
"Not that Hopps?" the fox said in disbelief.
"Yes, that Hopps, Mr. Wilde," Judy answered, her face looking as if disappointed with the investigator's figure. "And since you agree with me we've never met, you must also agree that I haven't hired you to do anything. Certainly not spy on my husband. I see you like publicity, Mr. Wilde. Well, you're going to get it."
With that, the rabbit began heading toward the exit of the office space. Nick tried to tail after her.
"Now wait a minute, Mrs. Hopps," the fox exclaimed.
Judy had just opened the door and was halfway through it as Nick held the door and spoke down to her.
"There's some misunderstanding here," Nick said, "It's not gonna do any good to get tough with me."
The rabbit turned back to look up at the fox, she flashed him a cold smile before speaking.
"I don't get tough with anyone, Mr. Wilde," Judy retorted, "My lawyer does."
With that, she turned and closed the door in front of Nick. The fox was about to rush out after her when another voice spoke to him.
"Here's something for you, Mr. Wilde," the luxurious-dressed coyote said and handed Nick some legal papers. "I suppose we'll be hearing from your attorney."
Nick glared at the papers and at his counterparts. His expression was that of irritation, confusion, and thinking.
Nick, Duffy, and Walsh all stood or sat in the fox's office. There were empty or half-empty coffee cups. On Nick's desk were the legal papers and the newspaper. All the men were worn and silent. Duffy put out a cigarette in the dregs of one of the cups.
"There are seven ashtrays in this room, Duffy," Nick said in an annoyed tone.
"Okay," the wolf replied.
"That's a filthy habit," the fox pressed further.
"I said okay, Nick," Duffy retorted in defense. He understood his friend's agitation though.
"Yeah, yeah," Nick said, "If she'd come in here saying she was Shirley Temple you'd say okay to that too."
"Look, Nick," Walsh replied, "She gave us Hopps's real phone number and address."
"All she needed for that was the phone book!" the fox retorted.
"No, No," the beaver continued, "She said not to call. Her husband might answer."
"When I find out who this phony bitch was," Nick began but didn't finish.
Nick reached for the phone and began to dial a number, a small smile formed on his face. The fox then buzzed in his secretary.
"Cheera," Nick said.
"Yes, Mr. Wilde?" the cheetah's voice replied on the other end of the intercom.
"Get me the Times," the fox exclaimed, "Whitey Mehrholtz." Nick then turned to his partners. "What does she think, she's perfect? Coming in waving her lawyers and her money at me so damn smug. She's no better than anybody else in this town."
The phone stopped ringing and Nick spoke into it.
"Whitey," the fox began, "what's new, pal?... Yeah, listen, where did you get those photographs... Yeah, blowing a fuse over the El Macando love nest. That's cute, Whitey... so who sent them to you... I sent them? Why would I be asking how you got them if I sent them?... Whitey?... Whitey?... C'mon, level with me for once, ... yeah... yeah... yeah."
Nick hung up and the beaver spoke.
"So he says you sent them?" Walsh asked.
"They're all a bunch of phonies." the fox answered.
Nick had been walking through the Department Water and Power Hall and stopped when he arrived at a door that read: "Hollis J. Hopps Chief Engineer"
The fox walked into the outer office where a secretary, a deer, and a female, sat behind a desk. She looked surprised at Nick's entrance.
"Mr. Hopps, please," the fox stated.
"He's not in, Mr. ?" the deer asked, awaiting the fox's name.
"Wilde," Nick answered, swaying his tail behind him.
"May I ask what this is regarding?" she asked, typing into her typewriter.
"It's personal," the fox answered, "Has he been out for long?"
"Since lunch," the deer answered.
"Gee whiz," Nick said and checked his watch, "And I am late."
"He was expecting you?" She asked, a bit shocked.
"Fifteen minutes ago," the fox reassured. Nick then grinned and gestured toward the door leading to Mr. Hopps's office. "Why don't I go in and wait?"
Before the deer can respond, the fox is already on his lower paws and heads into the door.
The walls are covered with commendations, photos of Hollis at various construction sites, and large maps of watershed areas and reservoirs in the city. On the desk is a framed, tinted photo of Judy in riding clothes. Nick moves to the desk, watching the translucent pane in the upper half of the door leading to the outer office as he does. He begins to open and close the desk drawers after quickly examining the top. He tries one of the drawers and it doesn't open. He reopens the top drawer, and the bottom one opens. He looks in it and pulls out a checkbook. He opens it and riffles through the stubs like he was shuffling cards. Drops it, and finds a set of keys, an old phone book, and a menu from a Water Department lunch at the Biltmore Hotel in 1913. Then, He flips through them and reads one notation in Hollis's neat paw: "Tues. night. Oak Pass Res. 7 channels used." Nick spots a shadow looming in front of the translucent pane. He quickly tosses item after item back, kneeing the drawer, nearly knocking a spare pair of Hollis's glasses off the desktop when he does. He catches them, puts them on the desk, and is pacing the room as the door opens.
A middle-aged male mouse, well-dressed, walked in with an anxious secretary behind him.
"Can I help you?" the mouse asked, "Russ Yelburton, Deputy Chief in the Department."
"F.N. Wilde," the fox replied, "And it's not a departmental matter."
"I wonder if you'd care to wait in my office?" Russ asked.
This is more a request than an invitation. Nick nods, and follows Yelburton out, through the outer office to his offices down the hall.
"You see," the mouse began, "this whole business in the paper with Mr. Hopps has us all on edge."
As the duo enters Russ's office, Nick notes his surroundings. It's smaller than Hollis's, he has most noticeably a lacquered marlin mounted on the wall. There are a couple of other pictures of Yelburton with yellowtail and other feral fish he's standing beside.
"After all," Ross continued, "you work with a man for a certain length of time, you come to know him, his habits, his values, and so forth. Well, either he's the kind who chases after women or he isn't."
"And Hopps isn't?" Nick asked.
"He never even kids about it," the mouse replied.
"Maybe he takes it very seriously," the fox said.
Nick winks. Yelburton chuckles appreciatively, loosening up a little.
"You don't happen to know where Mr. Hopps's having lunch?" Nick asked.
"I'm sorry, I-" Russ began, before being cut off.
"Well tell him I'll be back," the fox said, before standing up and placing his fedora on his head. Before leaving he noticed a card tray on the mouse's desk.
"Mind if I take one of your cards?" Nick asked, "In case I want to get in touch with you again."
"Help yourself," the mouse answered graciously. Nick grabbed one and exited the office.
He goes out the door, nearly running into a bear who is standing by the Secretary's desk, about Nick's age only a head taller and a foot wider, dressed in a plain suit that fits him about as well as a brown paper bag.
"Mulvihlll," Nick exclaimed, "what are you doing here?"
Mulvihill stares at Nick with unblinking eyes and remains by the desk.
"They shut off my water," the bear answered, his voice deep and uncaring. "What's it to you?"
"How'd you find out?" the fox joked, "You don't drink it, you don't take a bath in it, maybe they sent you a letter. Ah, but then you'd have to be able to read."
The bear moves toward Nick shaking with fury. Russ gets in the way.
"Relax, Mulvihill," Nick said, "glad to see you here." Nick turned to the mouse. "Do you know Claude Mulvihill here?"
"Hope so," Russ replied, "He's working for us."
Nick grinned and retold a life story about an event that had happened between Mulvihill and him. Then the fox entered an elevator, bowed as the doors closed, and exited the building. Nick then knew where he would be heading next.