Disclaimer: Garfield and all related characters are the intellectual property of Paws Inc. and Paramount Global/Nickelodeon at the time this story was written.
Note: The following chapter takes place after the events of "The Origins of Garfield and Friends".
Garfield In: Paw Dealers
The Vermin's Tavern.
You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy…
…for this is the go-to place for gangsters, criminals, and other secretive trade dealing cats and dogs alike to hide out from the law, whether it be the local authorities or the relentless swarm of dogcatchers roaming all around the city of Muncie, Indiana.
One must be cautious if they ever decide to enter this place, for just one slip up can, and will, lead to an untimely demise, and a bloody mess for the bartender to clean up afterwards.
*CREEEEAK*
The few sober customers turn their attention to the door as a mysterious person, wearing a trench coat and fedora hat, pushes it open. The cold, night breeze can be felt while the stranger steps inside. Carefully scanning the area with his eyes, the mysterious person ignores the angry glares being shot at him, eventually spotting the table he was looking for…
…a group of vicious-looking dogs, all gathered in one spot, with poker cards in their paws. The scene alone reminds him of a painting he once saw.
Life imitates art indeed.
Approaching the table, the dogs all stare at him, ready to rip his body apart and gnaw on his bones all day and night.
*GRRRRRRR* One of them growls, revealing his razor-sharp set of chompers…
…with blood stains, no less.
"Well, look what the cat dragged in." Another dog said.
"What makes you guessed that I'm a cat?" The stranger curiously asks.
"I recognize that scent anywhere." The dog replies, ready to pounce at him and sink his teeth right into his skin.
"Besides, you ain't hidin' squat with that tail of yours." Another dog adds, pointing directly at the stranger's exposed orange tail.
"I see." The trench coat wearer said, tucking his tail inside said coat before taking a seat. "Deal me."
"And what makes you think we'll deal with you, cat?" One of the dogs growls.
The feline takes off his hat, revealing a huge pile of bones inside of it before dropping them on the table. Naturally, the dogs all stick their tongues out, ready to sink their teeths right into the juicy, rigid organs, before regaining their composures.
"Alright, you got a deal." A dog said, tossing a handful of cards to the cat.
"Swell." The feline said, the hat now back on his head.
"So, what'd you pull to hide out here, mister…uhh…" A dog asks.
"Spayed, Sam Spayed." The cat reveals his name. "And if you must know, I've swindled some catnip from a dealing operation." He pulls out a small bag of the goods.
"*SIGH* You damn cats will do anything to sniff that nip." A dog said bitterly, removing his cigarette and blowing out the smoke in his mouth. "Lost my brother to one of dem stoned pricks. Been on the run after I put the hit on the bastard myself."
"Sorry 'bout your loss." Sam said, tossing some cards on the table.
"Eh, that's the ruff side of life, kid." The dog shrugs, placing the cigarette back in his mouth.
"So, what brings you here to our table exactly?" Another dog curiously asks. "You mousers usually don't hang with the hounds unless they're pryin' us to get somethin'. So, what are you really here for?"
"Answers." Sam simply replies, swiping a glass of ginger from one of the dogs and chugging it in his mouth.
*SLAM*
"Tell me about…
…The Claws!"
The entire bar is now dead silent upon hearing what he just said. All eyes were now on Sam, like they're witnessing another fool willing to throw his life away by signing his death wish.
"What!?" The feline asks, looking confused at all the other patrons as they all give him the death stare.
"Those bastards." A dog grumbles. "Drivin' us all out of town with their fancy new weapons."
"Weapons?" Sam asks, curious to know how exactly they got their hands on so many firearms.
"Yeah. Had a run-in with a few of 'dem a while back." An eyepatch-wearing dog said before chugging down his drink. "Heard one of 'dem say they've been smuggling weapons from their connections from down the border."
"All the way down there, huh?" The cat asks. "Must be a good hiding place for their little operation."
"Either that or they have some really good spices over there." Another dog said sarcastically, placing his cards on the table in full display. "Full house."
"Three of a kind." Another dog places his cards down.
"Four of a kind." Sam shows off both pairs of his ace cards.
*GRRRRRRRRRRRRR* A few of the dogs growl at the cat, suspecting him of cheating by hiding cards underneath his trench coat.
"Hey, I won fair and square!" Sam insists, pulling a stack of poker chips to his side of the table. "If it makes you sore losers feel any better, you can keep the bones."
"Heh heh heh, don't count all your chickens before dey hatch, Spayed." A hat-wearing dog said with a malicious grin on his face. "Royal Flush, baby!"
"What!?" Sam shouts, flabbergasted by such a lucky hand. "You cheated!"
"Look who's the sore loser now, cat." The dog snarks, pulling the chips over to his side.
"Tch, whatever." Sam said, having let himself get sidetracked from the real reason he came here. "I'm not here for money, just information about the Claws."
"You're signing your own death wish meddlin' with dem', mate." The eyepatch dog warns him, smoking his cigarette. "I suggest you ditch town, if ya know what's good for ya."
"Those bastards have already crossed me when they took my best friend*!" Sam growls, swiping another glass of ginger and chugging it before slamming it to the table. "Now, it's personal!"
(*Garfield Quickies - Season 2 - Chapter 7: A Shooting's Aftermath*)
"Heh heh, you got guts, son." A dog said, drinking his ginger. "I respect that."
"Eh, sometimes you need guts to survive this ruff world." Sam said. "Whether it be your instinctive guts, or chicken guts." He licks his tongue upon saying the latter type.
"Yeah, and you'll certainly need them if you think you're leavin' this place alive. Heh, heh, heh." A gray cat with an eyepatch approaches the table, drawing a knife right near Sam's neck.
"And…you are?" Sam asks, not even bothering to turn around.
"My name is of no concern to you." The gray cat said. "What you should be concerned about is me decidin' whether I should bring you in alive…
…or dead."
"Look, if this is about that catnip I took from you assholes, then go ahead and take it back." Sam said, pulling the small bag out of his trench coat. "Shit's not even that strong, anyway."
"Don't patronize me, Spayed!" The gray cat angrily shouts, slapping the bag away from his paw. "Unless you'd rather be dead when I turn ya over to them!"
"To who? The Humane Society?" Sam asks sarcastically.
"No, smartass! The Claws!"
Once again, the rest of the bar's patrons turn their attention to the dog gang's table upon hearing him shout that name. Things are about to get heated, and possibly bloody, a usual occurrence in this place, and they all have front row seats to enjoy the show.
"Oh?" Sam now turns his head towards the other cat right behind him, now actually curious about him and his affiliation with the Claws.
"Thought nobody would recognize you, Garfield!?" The gray cat asks, exposing his true identity to all the current visitors of the bar.
"What makes you think it's me?" Garfield asks. "There's plenty of orange cats out there."
"What other kind of orange cat hangs out with dogs!?" The other feline points out. "Especially a fatass one, like you?"
"I knew somethin' smelled fishy 'bout you." A dog said, he and the rest of them shooting glares at him.
"Heh heh, you mean that literally or figuratively?" Garfield nervously chuckles, ready to high-tail it out of here…
…but not without answers first, something only the gray cat seems to have. Pity they can't just talk things out like domestic cats, but that's what you get when dealing with strays.
*GRRRRRRRR* All the canines growl, ready to pounce his spoiled ass and eat all the food from his carcass…
…all twelve meals he had today.
"*GULP* Well chaps, it's been rather nice playin' with you, but I believe I really must get going." Garfield said…
*BARK BARK BARK*
…right as a dog leaps directly towards him! The orange cat has only barely managed to duck under the table from the canine's sharp teeth as he lands right onto the chair, causing him and the gray cat to fall over.
"Whew, one second more, and I would've been a goner." Garfield said to the reader, adjusting his fedora hat.
"Get your filthy paws off me, you damn, dirty dog!" The gray cat angrily shouts, grabbing his knife back up from the ground and…
*SLICE*
…slitting the dog's throat right open, blood pouring out as the dog drops dead.
*BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK*
All the dogs leap from the table, a massive brawl ensuing throughout the entire bar as the other patrons decide to join in on the fun and proceed to beat the living hell out of the canines as well as each other.
"I believe that's my exit cue." Garfield said as he crawls out from under the table and starts to make his way out amidst the full-blown chaos.
"Going somewhere, Garfield?" The gray cat asks with an evil grin, his knife directly on the orange cat's neck once again.
"Yeah, the exit." Garfield replies, placing his hands inside his trench coat. "But not before I get some answers!"
He quickly pulls out one of his two kitchen knives hidden in his coat…
*CLING*
…and knocks the gray cat's knife right out of his hands, sending it flying directly to the wall.
"Who are you, and more importantly, what do you know 'bout the Claws!?" Garfield interrogates the eyepatch-wearing feline, the tip of his knife pointed directly at his neck.
"Like I said, Spayed…" The gray cat replies, slowly backing away from him. "That's none of your business!"
*CLANG*
He pulls out his knife from the wall and strikes directly at Garfield, who blocks the attack with his bladed kitchen utensil.
*CLING CLANG CLING CLING CLANG*
Blades collide as the two felines attempt to slice and dice each other in the midst of the chaotic scrimmage ensuing inside the criminal's hideout. The gray cat thrusts his knife towards Garfield's huge stomach, but misses only thanks to the orange feline's surprisingly quick reflexes. He may be fat, but he's rather athletic, which is exactly what he needs if he wishes to escape this place alive!
*SWOOSH*
Garfield swings his larger knife in a clean, horizontal line…
*WHOOSH*
…but was successfully dodged by the gray cat and his quick reflexes. He may not be as athletic as his opponent, but seemingly has the advantage in this fight thanks to his street-smarts, and the hellish life he endured for being a bounty hunter.
*CLING CLANG CLANG*
The blades continue to hit each other as they both struggle to get at least one hit at each other. The gray cat goes for the blow, but gets his knife stuck on the wall again when Garfield dodges his thrust.
You see how hard it is to write an intense and thrilling action sequence like this!?
Before the gray cat could pull his knife from the wall again, Garfield quickly takes advantage of the moment given to him by his blunder and…
*SLICE*
…slashes his rival's back, blood pouring out of his body as his knees drop to the ground…
*SLAM*
…right before being pinned by Garfield.
"This game is already making me very hungry!" Garfield growls, pointing his knife right on top of his head. "Tell me about who hired you, and maybe I'll let you live!"
"Heh heh, you just love prying into others' business, don't you?" The pinned cat sarcastically asks.
"I said no more games!" Garfield furiously shouts, pointing the knife even closer to his head! "Either you spill your guts 'bout your employers, or I'll literally spill your inner guts all across the floor!"
"Over my dead bo-"
*BAM*
Garfield is suddenly hurled across the room, courtesy of a canine patron smacking him with a chair…
*SLAM*
…who proceeds to slam said chair directly at the gray cat.
"Uuuugh." Garfield groans in pain while getting himself back up and putting his hat back on.
*HEH HEH HEH* The hat-wearing dog cackles as he approaches the orange cat.
Not wanting any more of his time being wasted fighting more of these assholes, Garfield comes up with an idea to get them all off his back.
*WHEEEEW WHEEEEE*
His sudden, loud whistling catches the attention of all the other patrons, including the dogs he dealt cards with earlier.
"Hey fellas, you notice something a little suspicious about this canine in particular!?" Garfield asks the crowd staring at him.
"The hell you babblin' about!?" The dog growls, edging closer to him…
…right where Garfield wants him to be.
Rather than answering with words, the orange cat pulls off his hat…
…revealing a shit ton of hidden ace cards inside of it…
…all now slowly falling to the ground.
*GRRRRRRRRR* All the other dogs growl immensely at their fellow canine upon being exposed.
"You bastard!" The dog furiously shouts at the orange cat.
"Look who's the sore loser now." Garfield snarks.
*GULP*
*BARK BARK BARK BARK*
All the dogs lunge directly at the cheater, ripping his entire body to pieces with their sharp teeth as the clever feline distances himself from the gory scene. Grabbing his knife, he heads back over to the gray cat, still lying on the floor when he was smacked. Now he can finally get the answers he came here for…
…or maybe not…
…for the cat remains unconscious.
"Terrific." Garfield grumbles, now having to drag his sorry ass out of the bar by himself and get the answers out of him then as soon as he wakes up…
…or maybe not…
…for another cat suddenly pounces him to the ground.
"Even more terrific!" The orange cat angrily shouts…
*BAM*
…kicking the other feline off of him. Realizing that there's now little-to-no chance of getting what he wants out of the unconscious cat as his body is now fully surrounded by all the other patrons fighting amongst one another, Garfield makes a quick exit from the bar, managing to avoid every chair and glass thrown directly at him.
"Well, so much for that!" Garfield shouts, throwing his hat to the ground in anger. Taking a seat on the floor, the orange feline lets out a disappointed sigh, frustrated that he couldn't get any more important information of the Claws off of any of the criminals that lurked in there. Cooling himself down after a few deep breaths, He ponders what little info he did managed to get from those dogs.
"Smuggling weapons, huh? Their operation must be much bigger than I thought."
*GRUMBLE*
Before he could ponder on it any longer, his stomach lets out a loud growl.
"Might as well grab somethin' from Al's Pizza, seeing as how its close by." Garfield said to himself, putting his hat back on and heading out to find where exactly the restaurant is again.
"Heh heh heh, good thing I swiped Jon's credit card before I left. *WINK*.