Another day in the city, and another year under the cloudy sky that was their home. A city of endless activity, from the cabbies to the bobbies and everyone in-between. There was little to be seen that hadn’t already been seen, and yet it was just another day for her as she sat on the park bench, her legs idly kicking back and forth as the tips of her toes barely tickled across the tips of the grass. She let her head lean back against the wooden boards of the bench as her jade eyes peered from under her frosted-black locks of hair, tracing the vague shapes that marred the sky.
The day had started like every day before it, with the sun creeping over the horizon as it steadily arched over the painted ceiling that covered the world, the orange-pink sky shifting into the true blue that all had come to expect. It had been another night of restlessly restful sleep for the young ball of fur and energy, the bench having given little comfort as she tried to shut her eyes to the darkening world the night before. Sure, she could have tried for somewhere warmer or a little more cozy, but that always ran the risk of being tossed into an orphanage, a thought she vehemently refused to entertain.
It wasn’t so bad, really, living the life of Oliver Twist. Sure, it sometimes had its ups and downs, and she wasn’t always privy to sleep in the same place twice in a row, but it did give her a certain kind of freedom. At least, that was what she told herself when she found her mind wandering across those particular thoughts. Some of the other kids looked like they were so happy with their own families and friends…
She shook her head firmly, casting the thoughts into the void where they scattered and dispersed into nothingness. A quick breath brought her back to her smiling self as she went back to cloud watching. She hadn’t noticed the soft steps of cobbled feet rustling through the trimmed grass, at least not until they had stopped and someone called out from behind her.
“Hey Lucky,” the prim bunny practically shouted from behind her.
“Hello, Cotton,” Lucky managed to reply after picking herself up off of the ground, the fur on her tail poofing out to the point of comedy as her heart struggled to slow down. “Thanks for the wake-up call, ya’ shufflebutt.”
“Sure thing,” his grin ran from ear to ear as he all but bounced around the bench and sat down next to her, her attempts at name calling sailing over his head.
After a momentary lull the newly minted silence had been shattered by the soft gurgling of someone’s gut. Cotton’s ears twitched as he glanced at Lucky, who in turn averted her eyes almost immediately.
“Did you eat breakfast,” Cotton asked quietly.
“Not really,” she replied in kind. “I was kinda thinking of grabbing something from the store.”
“What, like nicking it?”
Lucky’s eyes closed for a moment as she exhaled. “I don’t have any money, Cotton. Quit with that tosh.”
That was always a fact of the life she lived. Avoiding the institutions, too young to be considered for a job, eking out a life in the way that made sense to her usually left her without so much as two pence to rub between her fingers. Sure, there was always the chance she could happen across five quid, blowing down the street but those times were always few and far between. What else was she to do in that case?
Her stomach made its complaint known again and she grimaced before hopping off of the bench, her toes sinking into the soft green grass as she cast a cursory glance towards Cotton, who rose to his feet almost as quickly as her neck turned.
“You can stay here if you want,” she offered a smile. “I doubt I’ll be long.”
“I think I’ll come with you,” he responded, shrugging.
That was the thing about Cotton. Always a follower, never a leader, although that much could have been seen by the clothes he wore. His family had the weird habit of dressing him up in clothes that seemed, by some stretch of the imagination, cute or funny. He never really complained about it, especially considering the overalls he wore today looked like they were a size too small, but then again she didn’t exactly know much about “good” clothes, having worn the same shirt since finding it a year ago. Sure it was starting to fray at some ends, but it was as warm as could be and comfortable for her lean body even though it looked like it had been completely buggered.
“Fine,” she sighed, knowing the argument would be a losing battle with the hard-head rabbit. “Come along, then.”
***
The morning hadn’t been too kind to him as he sat behind the counter, one hand rubbing at his temples while the other hand held the glass of seltzer and water. It was his own fault for bothering to drink that grotty plonk the night before, the same that his mate Benji said he had waiting in the pantry. He wasn’t much of a wine drinker, and after today he was sure he never would look at a bottle of grape for as long as he lived. Maybe it was just the fact that Benji had made pig-swill, or maybe it was the fact that he was too used to a pint of black but he felt like he was slowly dying.
Hangovers usually left one feeling like rubbish, and here he was, feeling like rubbish that had been set on fire in a biscuit-arsed bog. If he lived past today then he was certainly going to give Benji a piece of his mind, assuming the wazzock wasn’t taking the piss at his expense. Then again, who was the proper tosser here: Him for believing that what he was drinking wasn’t something unfit for consumption outside of a car engine, or Benji for believing that what he had fermented was a smashing drink. The tosspot was going to get a right-proper ear bashing, that was for certain.
So far the day had been quiet. People coming in, grabbing what they wanted, handing him the money, and leaving without a fuss. Sure, there was the occasional screaming sprog and the oblivious mother, the chav who felt like chatting, and even a slag wandering in for their liquid lunch, but so far he felt like he could actually get by. That was until the door slid open and that detestable chime sounded one and then twice, a musical knife that stabbed into his brain.
Two kids had walked in, one looking as prim and proper like it was Christmas morning and the other one looking… less so. He watched them with a lazy eye as they made their way towards the back of the store, the cat stopping in front of the cooler for a moment and pulling a bottle of fizz from one of the lower racks while the boy was content enough to simply stand around and watch. As hung over as he was he could still recall that the lower racks had little in the way of child favorites when it came to soda, since that was where they kept the bottles of IRN-BRU.
Another few minutes passed and the youngsters had ambled their way around one of the shelves that had been stocked with crisps. He picked up the glass of seltzer and drained it away, feeling the concoction boil its way down his throat into his ailing stomach. When he looked back towards the shelves he noticed the bunny boy stepping towards him, soon enough only his ears poked up from over the counter. The clerk rolled his eyes and shifted forward, peering over the edge and down at the kid.
“Yeah?”
The boy looked up at him and smiled wide.
“Wot. You and yer friend need help with something?”
“I dunno,” the kid replied, that smile still beaming brightly.
The clerk blinked twice as his brain tried to process just what it was the kid said. Here he was, standing in front of the counter, looking like he had a secret and he didn’t know if he needed help. Just what, exactly, made sense about this?
“Look, kid,” the clerk sighed as his tone lowered, clearly not entertained by whatever shenanigans were going on. “I dunno what you and yer friend want, but yer here to buy, right? If yer not here to buy, then wot do you want?”
The bunny boy’s smile faltered as his mask of smugness and sureness fell away. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?”
Yeah, that was exactly what he was going for with this little talk.
“No, kid, yer not in trouble. Yer creeping me out, though, but what exactly are you needing here?”
“Oh, I was told to be a distraction.”
…
…
…
“Wot.”
“Am I a good distraction?”
At that point something clicked in his brain. At that same second the door ringer began to jingle and he caught a flash of black and green darting between the sliding door panels. His body moved faster than his mind and he found himself sprawling over the counter, weight shifting the wrong way as his cheek met floor tile as the bunny boy vacated the store as well. His head was throbbing like a metal band at this point as he got to his feet and chased the two youngsters out of the store.
The two kids were quick but they had short legs. His body was far more developed, allowing him to catch up to them with ease. A bottle of IRN-BRU, a packet of quavers and even a bag of sliced bread had been pinched by the cat and he wasn’t about to let them get away with it. A wild grab and his fingers barely grazed the fabric of her shirt, earning a frightened yelp as she inadvertently dropped the bottle of fizz.
The funny thing about soda-based physics was the improbability they carried. Sure, looking at a bottle you might think it was the most conveniently designed thing in the world, a little plastic enclosure to keep your drink as safe as houses until you wanted it. That was until it was dropped on its head, then it became a cap-less projectile that would sail through the air like a heat-seeking missile. And how, you ask, did Clerky know about this?
The bottle propelled itself into his face, spraying fizz everywhere as he flailed and landed on his back while the two youngsters high-tailed it away.
