ZOOTOPIA
(Parody of Chinatown)
TW: Contains non-explicit sexual themes.
Nick walked through the multiple rows of shelves in the Hall of Records. It was dark and quiet except for the whirring of the fans overhead. The fox approached one of the clerks at a desk. The clerk was a male mid-twenties owl, with spectacles. The owl looked up from his work as Nick approached.
"I'm a little lost," the fox explained, "Where can I find the plat books for the northwest valley?"
The clerk's droopy eyes widen a little.
"Part of it's in Ventura County," the owl exclaimed, "We don't have Ventura County in our Hall of Records."
Nick smiled despite the snotty remark.
"I'll settle for L.A. County," the fox said.
"Row twenty-three," the clerk regarded, "Section C."
The owl turns away abruptly. Nick regards his back a moment, then goes to the stacks. Nick sees the Clerk turn to another, and say something. The second clerk gets on the phone. Nick watches a moment, then swiftly turns his attention to the stacks. He hauls down the northwest valley volume and opens it. It's huge and there's a lot to go through. The print itself makes him squint. Tract, lot, parcel, even a metes and bounds designation where the description of the land parcel is long and hopelessly involved e.g. '6000 paces to Rio Seco, thence 7000 paces to Loma Linda, etc.' These descriptions are old and faded. In the owners' column, however, there are numerous freshly typed names pasted over the prior owners. Nick hauled the large volume back to the clerk's desk.
"Say, uh, sonny," the fox said.
The owl turned sharply around.
"How come all these new names are pasted into the plat book?" Nick asked.
"Land sales out of escrow are always recorded within the week," the clerk explained.
Nick looked a little surprised.
"Then these are all the new owners?" the fox asked.
"That's right," the owl said.
"But that means that most of the valleys have been sold in the last few months," Nick said astonishingly.
"If that's what it says," the clerk said.
"Can I check one of these volumes out?" the fox asked.
"Sir, this is not a lending library," the owl retorted, "It's a Hall of Records."
"Well then," Nick said, "How 'bout a ruler?"
"A ruler?" the clerk questioned.
"The print's pretty fine," the fox lied, "I forgot my glasses. I'd like to be able to read across."
The exasperated Clerk reaches around, rummages, and slaps a ruler on the desk. Nick goes back to the stacks with the ruler. He opens the book and places the ruler not horizontally but vertically beside the owner column. He places the ruler, looks toward the clerks, then swiftly rips down the page, tearing out a strip about two inches wide containing the owner's name and property description. As he tears, he coughs to cover the sound of the paper being ripped.
The sun beat down on the ground. Amidst a hall of shimmering dust and heat, parched and drying groves, narrower roads. Nick passes a ramshackle home, next to a rotting orchard. There is a "SOLD" sign on the collapsing barn. Nick stops and checks it against the names he had taken from the Hall of Records. The fox continued driving. He is now covered with a film of dust: He reaches a fork in the dirt road. There are a couple of mailboxes. Nick takes this fork and begins a slow ascent. As he does, the tops of a line of bright green trees can be seen, coming more and more into view. Row upon row of avocado and walnut groves, their foliage heavy. The few structures in the distance are white-washed, and well-kept, right down to the white-washed stones that mark the pathway to the home. Towering above it all is a huge wooden water tank. Nick drives through a gate that has "NO TRESPASSING" and "KEEP OUT PRIVATE PROPERTY" signs neatly printed on it. He drives down the road into the grove.
The fox pulls to a halt in the road flanking the orchard lanes. He puts the car in neutral and stares at the trees. By contrast with what he has seen, they are lush and beautiful, their heavy branches barely swaying in a light breeze. Then a shotgun blast abruptly strips bare the branches of the tree he'd been staring at. Nick is shocked. He looks behind him. Riding on horseback down the field in the direction he had just driven is a Red-Faced wolf in overalls. His hat blows off his head. He does not, however, lose the shotgun he has just used. Nick's lane of retreat is denied him. He guns the car and takes off down one of the orchard lanes. The dirt lane is rough. As Nick nears the end of it, a Younger wolf on a mule blocks the exit. The fox veers a sharp left, knocking a branch off one of the trees, and heading down one of the cross-lanes.
Two farmers on lower paws, one using a crutch, run down the lanes toward a dust trail rising above the trees. They've spotted it. Clearly, it's from Nick's car. This hide-and-seek chase between one wolf on horseback, one on a mule, and a couple on paw continue up and down and across the orchard lanes until Nick's front tire and radiator are ruptured by another shotgun blast. Nick's car veers off, scattering a stray gaggle of geese and smacks into an avocado tree, shaking loose a barrage of the heavy fruit onto Nick and the car. The fox immediately tries to get out through the branches over the back of his car, but he's pulled off it by one of the younger canine farmers, a huge black wolf brute who begins to tussle with him. The crippled-wolf farmer begins to bang Nick on the back with his crutch. The two of them manage to pound the fox to the ground within moments, where the crippled-wolf farmer continues to whack away at Nick with the crutch. The older Red-Faced Farmer wolf with the shotgun and the wolf on a mule ride up.
"Alright, quit it!" the red-faced wolf exclaimed, "Quit now! Search the Fox, see if he's armed."
Nick is hefted half off the ground and the two younger wolf farmers spin him around, going through his clothes. Nick is badly banged up and half out on his paws. They toss his wallet, his silver cigarette case, etc. on the ground.
"I said see if he's armed!" the red-faced wolf yelled, "Not empty his pockets."
"He ain't armed," the black wolf replied.
Nick leans against the back of his car breathing heavily.
"Alright Mister," the red-faced wolf said to the fox, "Who you with? Water department or the real estate office?"
Nick's back and tail are to the Red-Faced farmer. He has trouble catching his breath. The crippled farmer pokes him rudely in the back with his crutch. Nick turns sharply.
"Get away from me!" the fox said.
"Answer him," the crippled wolf said.
Nick then retorted with an insult that enraged the black wolf. Just when it seemed like another brawl was going to ensue, the Red-Faced wolf spoke up.
"I said cut that out!" the farmer yelled to the two other wolves. "Give him a chance to say something."
Nick turned to face the Red-Faced wolf.
"Name's Wilde," the fox answered, reaching down for his wallet. "I'm a private investigator and I'm not with either."
"Then what're you doing out here?" the Red-Faced wolf asked.
"Client hired me to see," Nick began, "Whether or not the water department's been irrigating your land."
"Irrigating my land?!" the Red-Faced wolf exploded, "The water department's been sending you people to blow up my water tanks! They threw poison down three of my wells! I call that a funny way to irrigate. Who'd hire you for a thing like that?"
Nick reached into his jacket only to realize that the paper was on the ground. He reached down and grabbed it.
"Mrs. Judy Hopps," the fox answered.
"Hopps?" the Red-Faced wolf said, "That's the son of a bitch who done it to us!"
"Hopps's dead," Nick retorted, "You don't know what you're talking about, you dumb Oakie."
The big black wolf farmer takes a swing at Nick. The fox kicked him squarely in the nuts, knees him in the jaw after he's doubled up, and hits him solidly. The crippled wolf takes careful aim and brings his crutch down on the back of Nick's head. Nick is knocked to the ground and lies still beside the black wolf who is writhing in agony in the dirt.
"Well," the Red-Faced wolf said as Nick's mind faded. "That's that."
Nick eventually came to as the sun began to sink. Just as the fox could start feeling his tail, he noticed he was being stared down on. A pair of violet eyes focused on his. Nick realized he was laying on a couch on a screened porch, looking right back at the gaze of Judy. As the fox slowly got to his paws, he realized he wasn't alone with just the rabbit. The Red-Faced wolf, his wife, and the black wolf all were there too. Nick glanced around looking for answers. He focuses on Judy who sits right next to him. He's got dried blood down the side of his furry face from his nose, a huge mouse on his cheek, and his clothes are torn in a couple of spots.
"What's going on?" the fox asked.
"You didn't look too good," the Red-Faced wolf explained, "So we thought we better call your employer."
Nick sat in the passenger seat of his client's Packard. When he first got in, he was surprised to find that it was big enough for him. He then began to wonder how the rabbit even reached the pedals but found that the answer was that Judy had stilts that could be attached and detached if wanted. As the sun sets further, the fox decided to break the silence.
"Thanks for coming," Nick said.
He pulled out his cigarette case and offered one to the rabbit. Judy refused.
"That dam is a con job," the fox exclaimed.
"What dam?" the rabbit asked without taking her eyes off the road.
"The one your husband opposed," Nick explained, "They're conning L.A. into building it, only the water won't go to L.A., it'll go here."
"The Valley?" Judy questioned.
"Everything you can see, everything around us," the fox said, "I was at the Hall of Records today." He whips out papers and turns on the car light "That bother you?"
"No," the rabbit answered.
"In the last three months," Nick explained, "Robert Knox has bought 7,000 acres, Emma Dill 12,000 acres, Clarence Speer 5,000 acres, and Jasper Lamar Crabb 25,000 acres."
"Jasper Lamar Crabb?" Judy repeated.
"You know him?" the fox asked.
"No," the rabbit answered, "I think I'd remember."
"Yeah," Nick said, "They've been blowing these farmers out of here and buying their land for peanuts. Have any idea what this land'll be worth with a steady water supply? About thirty million more than they paid."
"And Hollis know about it?" Judy asked.
"It's why he was killed," the fox said, "Jasper Lamar Crabb. Jasper Lamar Crabb."
He pulls out his wallet, excitedly now, spilling its contents onto the seat. The fox pulls out the obituary column he'd folded up earlier in the day.
"We got it," Nick exclaimed, "We got it, baby!"
"What?" the rabbit questioned, "What is it?"
"There was a memorial service at the Mar Vista Inn today for Jasper Lamar Crabb," the fox explained, "He died three weeks ago."
"Is that unusual?" Judy asked.
"Two weeks ago, he bought those 25,000 acres," Nick said, "That's unusual."
It was night now. Judy's car pulls up before the elegant Spanish rest home, named MAR VISTA INN AND REST HOME, its entryway illuminated by streetlights. There is a small sign giving the name of the place in an elegant neon scroll. It sits on the rolling green lawns. Nick gets out of the car with Judy. He offers her his arm and they go up the walkway to the entrance. Nick and Judy are approached by an unctuous hamster in his forties, with a flower in his buttonhole. He sees Judy first.
"Hello there," the hamster said, "I'm Mr. Palmer, How can I help you folks?"
He gets a clear look at the fox, bruised, trousers torn, etc.
"Yes, I sure hope so," Nick lied, "It's Dad." He indicated his disheveled appearance. "I just can't handle him anymore, can I, sweetheart?"
Judy, catching the fox's drift, shook her head. Mr. Palmer looked confused, glancing from the rabbit to the fox with a questioning glance.
"Dad was a rabbit, Ma was a vixen," Nick lied further.
"Oh my goodness," Mr. Palmer said, having of understood the ordeal.
"Nothing to do with Dad," the fox hastily replied, "It's me actually."
"They just don't get along very well," the rabbit said, joining in on the ruse. "Dad's a bunny with everyone else."
"Oh, well," the hamster said, not too sure, "I don't know."
"Naturally," Nick continued, "I want the best for him, money is no object."
"Perhaps if we could meet your father," Mr. Palmer said.
"There's just one question," the fox added.
"Of course," the hamster replied.
"Do you accept anyone of the Feral persuasion?" Nick asked.
Judy can't quite conceal her surprise at the question.
"I'm sorry," Mr. Palmer answered embarrassingly, "We don't."
"Don't be sorry," the fox replied smoothly, "Neither does Dad. Wanted to make sure though, didn't we, honey?"
Judy stares back up at Nick, amused and appalled. She manages to nod.
"Just to be certain," Nick added, "I wonder if you could show us a list of your patients."
"We don't reveal the names of our guests as a matter of policy," the hamster replied, polite yet pointed. "I know you'd appreciate that if your father came to live with us."
Nick locked eyes with the hamster.
"That's exactly what we wanted to hear," the fox said confidentially.
"Oh good," the hamster said.
"I wonder," Nick said, "Is it too late for us to have a look around?"
"I don't think so," Mr. Palmer replied, "Be happy to show you."
"Would you mind if we just took a stroll ourselves?" the fox insisted.
"Just, if you will," the hamster answered, kind of in an annoyed tone, "Confine yourself to the main building, it's nearly bedtime."
"We understand," Nick said and turned to the rabbit. "C'mon, sweetheart."
The couple enters the parlor. Looking. Either by accident or design, the primarily octogenarian guests have segregated themselves. In one wing, the anthro men are playing pinochle, some are playing dominoes, and one elderly mouse sits by himself carefully peeling an orange. In an adjacent parlor, several white-furred ladies work on a quilt. Nick grabs Judy's paw.
"They're all here," the fox exclaimed quietly, "Every damn name."
Nick points to the wall. It says "ACTIVITIES BOARD". There are titles. "LAWN BOWLING". "BRIDGE". "FISHING". "CROQUET". Below them are the names of the guests, entered under certain activities, for certain days. After Judy looks, she turns to Nick. The fox gestured to the elder animals in the area before quietly continuing.
"You're looking at the owners of a 50,000-acre empire," Nick said.
"They can't be," the rabbit replied astonished.
"They may not know it," the fox replied, "But they are."
Nick strolls over to the anthro women knitting and working on the quilt.
"Hello girls," Nick said sheepishly.
Two of the ladies giggle. The third, an elder snow-white vixen, continues to busy herself with her quilt.
"Which one of you is Emma Dill?" the fox asked politely.
Two of them say "She is," and point in different directions. The third gives them a curt look and goes back to her knitting. Nick approaches her.
"Are you Emma," Nick asked.
"Yes," the ancient vixen answered.
"I've been wanting to meet you," the youthful fox replied.
"Why?" the vixen asked.
"Did you know you're a very wealthy vixen?" Nick said.
"I'm not," Emma said, smiling.
"Well you own a lot of land," the youthful fox insisted.
"Not anymore," the vixen replied, "Oh, some time ago, my late husband owned a good deal of beach property in Long Beach, but we lost it."
Nick looks at the quilt. In it is the head of a fish among the rest of the crazy quilt pattern. Nick spots it.
"That's just lovely," Nick said.
"Thank you...," Emma replied.
He looks through the quilt for other pieces of the fish, comes across the tail, and by it the initials A.C.
"Where did you get this material?" the youthful fox asked, indicating to the tail.
"The Albacore Club," the vixen answered.
"The Apple Core?" Nick asked mistakenly.
"No. The Albacore," Emma corrected, "It's a fish. My grandson's a member and they take very nice care of us."
"How do they do that?" the youthful fox asked.
"Give us things," the vixen said, "Not just some old flag like this, but..."
She stopped.
"But what?" Nick questioned.
"We're a sort of unofficial charity of theirs, Mr. Wilde," Palmer's voice said from behind, "Would you care to come this way? Someone wants to see you."
Nick looks up, and sees Palmer standing in the doorway, looking taut and a little drawn. Judy is beside him. She gestures as if there's someone behind Palmer. Nick rises.
"See you later, Emma," the youthful fox said, before following the hamster.
As they got closer to the entrance, they saw a figure waiting by the doorway. Mulvihill. He's got his paw in his pocket. Judy looks at Nick. The four of them stand there, Mulvihill towering over all of them.
"Come on, I want you to meet somebody, Wilde," the bear said.
"Can we leave the bunny out of this?" the fox asked, glancing from Palmer to Mulvihill.
"Yeah," Mulvihill said a little uncertainly, "Why not?"
"Okay," Nick said, "I'd like to walk her to the car."
"I'll stay," the rabbit insisted.
"Get to the car," the fox replied.
"I'll see she makes it," the bear answered.
Mulvihill has walked up beside Nick. He makes the mistake of opening the glass door in the entryway, putting his back on Nick for a moment. Nick swiftly pulls the bear's jacket up over his head. He spins him around. With his jacket covering his face, Nick hammers away at Mulvihlll, beating him against the glass door, along the wall, mercilessly pounding his fists into the cloth until the cloth turns red and Mulvihill begins to sink to the red tile floor. Palmer screams. Judy stands there astonished. Mulvihill's gun has clattered to the floor.
"What're you waiting for?!" the fox yelled to the stunned rabbit, "Get in the car!"
Judy goes. Mulvihill tries to get up again. Palmer starts to go for the gun, nearly picking it up. Nick slaps it out of his paw and kicks it. It goes flying down the hall, at least thirty feet; hits the wall. Palmer goes screaming off into the night. Nick turns back to Mulvihill who starts to get up, then collapses. Nick goes out the front door, ignoring the excited audience of ancients behind him.
As Nick walks down the pathway, he stops. Two anthro men are coming toward him. One of them is shorter, and has the nervous, jerky moves of the very same squirrel who slit his nose. Nick stops. The two men fan out and continue to move toward him. Nick spots the two-tone shoes. He begins to back up. Suddenly there is a pair of headlights flashing brilliantly behind the two men. In a moment Judy's car is headed across the lawn directly toward the two men, accelerating as it gets near them. They look in disbelief, then dive for safety. The car skids to a stop, fishtailing a little on the grass. Judy opens the passenger door.
"Get in!" she yelled to the fox.
Nick jumps in and she takes off across the lawn, tilting the elegant little neon sign on the lawn as she goes. Two shots are fired. Judy looked straight ahead, driving. After a moment she takes one paw off the wheel and rubs her left eye a little. Nick watches her. He smiles.
The two were now at the Hopps mansion. Nick stands on the veranda, smoking a cigarette, staring off into the night. Judy comes out to the veranda, carrying a tray with whiskey and an ice bucket on it. She sets it down. Nick turns.
"Maids night off?" the fox questioned as the rabbit poured.
"Why?" Judy retorted.
"What do you mean 'Why'?" Nick replied, a bit surprised. "Nobody's here, that's all."
"I gave everybody the night off," the rabbit said, as he handed (or pawed?) the fox his drink.
"Easy," Nick defended, "It's an innocent question."
"No question from you is innocent, Mr. Wilde," Judy retorted.
"I guess not to you, Mrs. Hopps," the fox laughed, "Frankly, you saved my a... my neck tonight."
They clinked glasses and drank.
"Tell me something," the rabbit asked, "Does this usually happen to you, Mr. Wilde?"
"What's that, Mrs. Hopps?" Nick asked.
"Well," Judy began, "I'm only judging on the basis of one afternoon and an evening, but if that's how you go about your work, I'd say you're lucky to get through a whole day."
"Actually," the fox said as he poured himself another drink, "This hasn't happened to me in a long time."
"When was the last time?" the rabbit asked.
"Why?" Nick questioned.
"I don't know," Judy replied, "Just, I'm asking."
Nick touched his nose and winced a little.
"It was in Zootopia," the fox answered.
"What were you doing there?" the rabbit asked.
"Working for the District Attorney," Nick answered, taking a long drink.
"Doing what?"
Nick looked at her sharply and then answered:
"As little as possible," the fox said.
"The District Attorney gives his men advice like that?" Judy questioned.
"They do in Zootopia," Nick replied.
"Bothers you to talk about it, doesn't it?" the rabbit asked.
"No," the fox said and felt his nose again. "I wonder... could I. Do you have any peroxide or something?"
"Oh sure," Judy said, placing her drink down, "C'mon."
The rabbit grabbed the fox's paw and lead him back into the house. They entered a bathroom, with a mirror cabinet. Nick pulls the plaster off his nose and snout, stares at it in the mirror. Judy takes some hydrogen peroxide and some cotton out of a medicine cabinet. Judy turns Nick's head down toward her. She has him sit on the Pullman tile adjacent to the sink.
"Doctor did a nice job," she said.
She begins to work on his nose with the peroxide. Then she sees his furry cheek and checks back in his hair.
"Boy oh boy, you're a mess," Judy continued.
"Yeah," the fox agreed.
"So," the rabbit began, "Why does it bother you to talk about it... Zootopia?"
"Bothers everybody who works there," Nick replied, "But to... it was..."
The fox shrugged.
"Hold still," Judy muttered, "Why?"
"You can't always tell what's going on there," Nick answered.
"...No," she said, "Why was it."
"I thought I was keeping someone from being hurt," the fox explained, "And actually I ended up making sure they were hurt."
"Could you do anything about it?"
They're very close now as she's going over a mouse very near his eye.
"Yeah," Nick said, "Make sure I don't find myself in Zootopia anymore. Wait a second."
He takes hold of her and pulls her even closer.
"What's wrong?" she asked, a bit afraid.
"Your eye," the fox said.
"What about it?" Judy asked.
"There's something black in the violet part of your eye," Nick said, staring intently into her eyes.
"Oh that...," she said, not breaking eye contact, "It's a flaw in the iris..."
"A flaw?" the fox questioned.
"Yes," the rabbit mumbled, "A sort of birthmark..."
Nick kisses her lightly, gradually rising until he's standing holding her. She hesitates, then wraps her furry arms around him.
The couple lay on the mattress of the master bedroom. the blanket is the only cover for their nude figures. Their clothes were strewn about the room. Nick had a cigarette in his paw. The fox grinned feverishly, as he stared up at the ceiling. Judy lay beside him, her head on his chest, her hair held back, and her ears flopped against her skull.
"You wear a uniform?" she asked, her voice sounding lost.
"Sometimes," Nick answered in a similar tone.
"You must've looked cute in blue," the rabbit teased with a grin.
"Take a break will ya?" the fox teased back.
"I know you," she muttered, "I want to know more about you."
"Not now," Nick said in an attempt to throw off the subject.
"You don't like to talk about the past do ya?" Judy asked, running the back of her paw under his chin.
"I'm tired," he lied.
"That person you tried to keep safe," she began, "Was there a woman involved?"
He only turned to look into her eyes.
"Of course," the rabbit muttered, "Dead?"
Again, no response.
Suddenly, the phone on the bedside table rang. Judy stared into his eyes a little bit more before she sat up and reached for the phone with urgency. The rabbit clutched the covers close to her chest, trying to protect her prone body, but her back was still visible to the fox.
"Yes, Hello?" she spoke into the phone. There was an interaction on the other end, but Nick caught not a word. "No, no, I'll come and help, just keep watching her and don't do anything until I get there... 'bye."
She hung up and turned back to Nick, touching his cheek lightly.
"I have to go," she explained.
"Where?" he asked.
"I just have to," she replied.
She got out of bed and put on a bra and panties before putting on a bathrobe her size.
"And I want to know where," Nick pressed further.
"Please," she said, walking around to his side of the bed and leaning beside him. "Don't be mad, it has got nothing to do with you."
"Where are you going?" the fox asked once more.
"Please!" She says, seeming on the verge of tears, "Trust me this much." She leaned in closer and kissed him on the eyelid. "I'll be back. Look, there is something I should tell you. The fishing club that old lady mentioned, the pieces of the flag."
"The Albacore Club?"
"It has to do with my father."
"I know."
"He owns it. You know?"
"I saw him."
"You saw my fa... father? When?"
"This morning."
"You didn't tell me?" she said panicking.
"There hasn't been a lot of time."
"What did he say?"
"That you were jealous and what you might do."
"Do? To who?"
"Hollis's Girlfriend, he wanted to know where she was."
"Listen, my father is a dangerous rabbit."
"Example?"
"You may think you know what's going on, but you don't."
"That's what he said... are you telling me he's behind this whole thing?"
"It's possible. Now please just stay here for me, I'll be right back. Promise."
With that, she got up and went into the restroom, closing the door behind her. The sound of the shower running followed. Nick was quick to his paws, he got up and slipped into his pants and undershirt, leaving his jacket, fedora, and undergarments. He ran out and got his paw shoes before heading to the roundabout in front of the mansion. Nick hurries over to the Packard. He gets down on the driveway, lying on his back, bracing himself. With the heel of his shoe, he kicks at the right rear taillight of the car. He shatters the red lens and gets up. He carefully pulls the red lens off the taillight, exposing the white light beneath it. He tosses the red lens into the shrubbery and hurries back toward the house.