Finnick's Fat Adventures (Dirty Version)
I'm a fox, dear. Foxes are lowlives. They do not get accustomed to polite society. They live in the ghettos. They live on welfare. They go to the worst schools and work the worst jobs. With a fate like that, who cannot respect those who say no to that? Finnick had lived an immoral life. After years of working for rent, he decided to save money by living in his van, which for him was spacious and hospitable. Life on the road was only for the bold and the unfortunate. Finnick had dealt with indescribable horrors and come out a bold fox, unafraid of the challenges of the metropolitan neoliberal city. Vandalism? Theft? Robbery at gunpoint? All that and more. Jobless and homeless? He'd gone through that too. Prostitution? You bet. Since his parents didn't want to pay for his education, he lived completely emancipated since he turned eighteen, and in his early adulthood he built his identity alongside Nick Wilde, a red fox as troubled as him, who also grew in an impoverished household and frequented the streets unsupervised, where he witnessed criminality daily. By chance of the universe, both were assigned dormmates at their community college where they became inseparable, them against the world, they had their own isolated world of lasciviousness, artistry, and activism. They formed a band that released one record with a photograph of them spreading their assholes open for the cover and consisted of completely horrendous experimental noise music, they campaigned for the wretched of the Earth and organized public protests for which they were arrested several times, they became a romantic couple when everyone still vomited at the idea of two males locking lips, which was 2002, they gained incredible weight until they wobbled with each step and then lost it all for an experiment about body positivity in the male and gay communities, they advocated for revolutionary anticapitalist ideologies and collected signatures to register animals to vote for communist parties and candidates; briefly, they were everything that society fucking hated. All that came to an end when they graduated; they stopped being political agitators and dressed normally again, quit recreational drugs, stopped writing and publishing zines, and focused on finding security under the capitalist mode of production dictated by the State. They also had decadent, degenerate sex, with both males and females and even animals in between, even while they dated each other. Nick came to denounce homosexuality as bourgeois and counterrevolutionary, and even attempted to become a priest at a Lutheran church; he was denied for being a fox, but getting caught having penetrative sex in the bathroom with a member of the Congregation late at night didn't help. The minister who caught him tried to pin him with rape charges in collusion with the gay member of the Congregation, a young wolf man, and when the case went to court, the defense argued that his client had engaged in consensual sex with the accuser, who was gay and closeted and only accused him to save face before the minister, and that there were many other instances of the wolf being seen performing homosexual activity, sexual or affectionate, witnessed by other members of the Congregation who were subpoenaed and testified in Nick's favor, that's when the wolf crumbled under the duress of perjury and confessed that he was gay, although he refused to cede any ground on the invalidation of his accusation. In the final deliberations of the defense, the attorney mentioned that the church was still paying a settlement on a criminal case about child sexual abuse from five years prior, and that even though the Minister was not named in that lawsuit, he was a member of the church and therefore could be unreliable as a denouncer of rape. These are all very scummy lawyer tricks: nothing has to do with anything, at least not directly with the events of that night when the sexual incident occurred and whether it was rape, but it made the jury question the reliability of the prosecution, and that was good enough for the defense. It took very little discussion in comparison to other similar trials, and despite one juror threatening to hang the jury, after two hours the jury decided on the verdict of not guilty of rape for Nick Wilde. Nick came out of that trial as a community hero: he had gotten a wolf's maw and hole at a holy place and got away with it, and when a homophobic religious zealot tried to pin him with bogus charges of rape, everyone believed his version of the story. The wolf instead was outed to everyone in his community as a homosexual and was disowned by his parents, and although he lived on his college's campus, he had so little money to his name that he quickly found himself homeless and without any help from his former Lutheran church. Nick eventually helped him get off the streets, because nobody can be that cruel, and him and the wolf reconciled soon thereafter. And they fucked. This time the wolf topped. Isn't that romantic? The jury thought so too: when they heard Nick's testimony, how he detailed his steamy makeout session with the canine, his opening of his hole, his tight grip on the waist to ensure the passionate strokes, they all kept their oohing and aahing for themselves, lest they provoked an instant mistrial.
In any case, Nick was living a regular life as a miscreant under capitalism, often homeless, indebted, evading taxes, escaping law enforcement and avoiding jail time while also avoiding wage labor. As an adult, he was more resistant to hunger and illness and the general discomfort of poverty than he had been in childhood. Adults tolerate pain better than children, right? Finnick also followed the same path. No longer radical, no longer hedonist. Just a boring man with a boring life, servicing society and paying his dues. Well, not really. All this time, even after they parted ways romantically and academically, Nick and Finnick continued to work together to pull schemes and tricks and pranks and flapdoodle for easy untaxed money. It worked. It allowed them to pay for food and live. And then came the homebreaker: an agent of the law recruited his former lover into the Zootopia Police Department, and in six months Nick Wilde, the sung hero of Zootopia's squatters, panhandlers, solicitors, loiterers, vagrants, homeless, unemployed, NEETs, and students, had become a police officer. How inspiring! Nick entered a romantic relationship with the woman who snatched him and coerced him to join her investigation and eventually the police force, a rabbit named Judy Hopps, declared himself a lifelong heterosexual and moved into an apartment with her, one with space for two, a living room, a king-sized bed and a bathroom. Finnick had to go pay for food at fast food locations to use their bathrooms and pay a membership at a gym to use their showers. He thought he would get over it quickly and find his new loneliness quotidian until three days later he was crying at night over his departed fox. What a bastard! Why did you leave me? Are you too good for me now? Can't you look me in the eye because you hate to be reminded of where you came from? His hoarse voice made his crying sound especially lamentable, and he felt very pathetic. Why suffer and lose sleep over someone who doesn't do the same for you? Curse you, Nick! Curse you, rabbit! Curse you, capitalism! Curse you, city of shit! My crime was to be a fox too short to be of any use in a world that has no place for foxes.
The sorrow lasted for several weeks, but he was reanimated by the contingency that his funds were running low. He hadn't done any schemes since the abandonment; Nick was the man with the ideas, Finnick was a man of action. After meditating on the possibility of becoming an ascetic hermit and living in a cave to soon die of inanition and be canonized by the Catholic Church, he decided to get a job, the first in many moons, at a place where he could get free food. The business closest to the public parking lot where he stationed his van during the day and the alley where he parked at night was a pizza parlor.