Tick Tock 1 (Patreon)

Last month, @Diego P requested a scene about a krakun who was down on his luck. This month, @ArcadeDragon asked for a scene about a sourang doing business as a krakun. I thought it might be fun to combine these requests.

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Dragging his tail and hanging his head, Rowsdower shoved open the lobby door. The apartment manager, Kaadaruk, was sitting behind the plexi office window, scowling. “What are you doing home? It’s the middle of dinner rush. You’re supposed to be at work, Rowsdower!”

Kaadaruk loved to shout “Rowsdower”. The hateful old krakun had a way of making his name sound like an insult.

“Well, not that you really care, Mr. Kaadaruk,” muttered Rowsdower under his breath, “but I lost my job today. Someone saw a sourang in the restaurant, and even though it’s not my responsibility to get rid of them, Motarantusk, my manager made a big show of firing me so the customer would be angry with me instead of him. This sucks. It took me four years to find that job, and now I’ve gotta start searching for a new one in the morning.”

The apartment manager glared at him, pushing his snout so close that his breath fogged the glass. “Well, turn your tail back around and get to searching!” he yelled.

“I will in the morning,” Rowsdower sighed. “I’m sad, and I’m tired, and I’m hungry. I’m gonna make some dinner and watch some television.”

“No! You don’t live here anymore,” shouted Kaadaruk. “Go get a job and then come back!”

Rows was too depressed to argue with him. So, he pressed the elevator button to take him up to the fifth floor.

But the button didn’t light.

Without moving his body, Rowsdower curled his neck around so he could glare at the manager’s window. “You can’t kick me out. I’m paid up through the end of the month. Besides, all of my possessions are in my apartment.”

“Go re-read your contract,” sneered Kaadaruk. “You gotta be employed to live here. Get a new job and come back before I toss your stuff in the dumpster.” Then the old krakun flicked a lever and a metal shutter fell down over the plexi window.

Rows stared at the shuttered window for a long time before he began to beat on it with his fists. “You can’t do this to me! My rent is paid!” the younger krakun bellowed.

The shutter lifted, but only for a moment, only long enough for Kaadaruk to say, “Go away before I tell the cops a crazy homeless guy is beating on my window! Or do you want to spend your first homeless night in jail?”

# # #

Rowsdower walked for hours in the city’s steamy darkness—first to cool his temper and then because he just didn’t know what else to do. He couldn’t afford a hotel, and he didn’t know anyone here well enough to borrow their couch. He didn’t see any “help wanted” signs in any windows he passed, and he didn’t know where to go.

The humidity felt especially oppressive tonight, and Rows really didn’t want to be stuck out in a downpour.

Eventually, he wandered into an empty alleyway and pushed his body up against a wall in hopes that the meager overhang might keep him dry if it rained.

“Damn Motarantusk,” he growled to himself. “And damn Kaadaruk too! I don’t need any compassion, but would a fair shake be asking too much?”

Rowsdower began to cry—quietly, in case anyone was listening, but hot heavy tears streaked down his face.

He heard a quiet scampering sound and glanced up just in time to see a fuzzy shape dart down the alley’s opposite side. Rows grabbed a bottle from beside a dumpster and hurled it with all his strength. Pow! The glass exploded into a million pieces. The sourang squeaked once and dashed into a gap at the bottom of the wall.

Rowsdower chased after it, scraping at the concrete with his claws, shouting at the little mammal, “Come back here, you vermin! This is all your fault! Come back here so I can bash your stupid skull in!”

Eventually, the krakun tired. He rested his palms against the wall and let his head hang low.

The alleyway went completely silent for many long moments before a tiny voice peeped from a gap in the brickwork. “What is my fault?”

Rows dropped his head to the dirty ground so he could glare into the inky dark hole. He angrily pointed a claw into the blackness to punctuate his anger. “It’s your fault that I lost my waiter job at the Shed Skin Bistro!”

There was a long pause before a nose and some long whiskers peeked out. “Never heard of it,” the sourang said in the Krakun language. “How could I lose you your job when I have never even heard of the place?”

Rowsdower dove at the hole once more, digging viciously at it with his claws, but the sourang had ducked back inside long before the krakun had ever gotten close.

Eventually, he collapsed against the far wall and stared hate beams at the hole.

The nose and whiskers appeared once more, but this time the sourang said nothing.

“There was a sourang at the restaurant today,” sighed the krakun. “It darted right across the floor, right between a customer’s legs. She screamed, my manager blamed me, and he fired me.”

Another pause. “Wow, that sucks.”

“Yeah, it does,” he agreed. He rested his arms on his knees and his forehead against his arms.

“Sounds like your boss is a major tailhole.”

Rowsdower lifted his head so he could rest his chin on his arms. “Yeah.”

“Was not me though,” the mammal said. “You understand that, right?”

Rows didn’t reply. He just closed his eyes.

“So,” said the sourang, “what will you do now?”

Rowsdower shrugged. “Dunno. Look for a new job, I guess.”

“And work for a different tailhole?”

That actually made the smallest smile form on the krakun’s face but only for a moment. “Yeah, probably.”

“You know,” said the sourang, “there are a whole lot of krakun out there that want to be cruel to you, but only one who will always treat you kindly. You should go work for him.”

Rows cocked his head. “Who? Who would treat me kindly?”

Instead of replying, a fuzzy arm stuck out of the hole, pointing a finger up at Rowsdower’s face.

“Me?” the krakun laughed. “I should work for myself? You are funny, vermin.”

“I am serious,” squeaked the tiny voice.

“Oh yeah? And what would I pay myself to do?” asked Rowsdower. “And what would I pay myself with?”

The nose stuck a little farther into the alley’s dim light. “Well, you would sell watches. You would pay yourself ten percent of the money you made from each sale.”

Rowsdower lowered his head, bringing his snout closer to the hole. The nose and whiskers vanished into the dark once more, but only for a moment before they returned.

“What would I watch?”

“A watch is a piece of fine jewelry that krakun society has forgotten about,” explained the small voice. “They are clever little contraptions, interesting to look at, requiring no electricity, but yet they tell the time.”

“Uh-huh…” whispered Rowsdower. “And the phase of the moons? And the time on the various colony worlds?”

“No, just the time here on Krakuntec.”

“And why would anyone want that?” he chuckled. “Everyone has a communicator, and they’ll do all that and a whole lot more.”

“But your communicators are all more or less the same, and these watches are all unique.” Ever so slowly, the mammal backed away into the blackness. “And so, if you have a style of watch, then no one else can, because each is one-of-a-kind.”

The creature disappeared and the hole went silent. Rows scooted a little closer. Jewelry that was one-of-a-kind? That did sound like the sort of thing krakun would want. There was nothing in the galaxy that rich krakun enjoyed more than having something that no one else could.

“And so, you have these unique watches?” he asked the hole.

“I might.”

“And you’re going to pay me ten percent to sell them for you?”

“No.” The nose and whiskers returned. “You created the watches. You are going to pay yourself for selling them. You will pay me ninety percent to keep making more.”

“Ah,” laughed the krakun. “So, you want me to front for you, since no one would buy goods from a sourang.”

“And find buyers for me,” said the tiny voice. “A krakun would have to be awful far down on his luck to ever talk to a sourang…”

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Reviewer's link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1FodXXxlIjtKycs_VZ1lyZqM5ZfapBrrNRhLsjw9e9WQ/edit?usp=sharing

Thoughts?