I can never understand how anyone could stand this city at night. The various lights from the buildings and streetlights obscure the night sky, blocking the stars from view. The noise of the crowds of people drowned out each other, creating a chaotic cacophony that is harsh to my ears. It's a miracle that I can get any sleep at night. It makes me miss the eerie quiet I was used to back home. At least you can hear one another when someone's speaking to you, and the streetlights were bright enough to let you see the stars as they move in the night sky.
Now, here I am, walking these chaotic streets with a preppy-looking lion, who just happens to be my blind date, Dean Napoli. He has this cheery smile on his muzzle, as if he's enjoying this noise. My big mouse ears pick up more sounds then his small, rounded ears, and I don't enjoy it one bit. I usually just block it out with my favorite music, playing through my lime-green ear-buds as the world passed me by. The urge to put them in was tempting, but all I could focus on was Dean, as he walked through the crowd like it was second nature to him.
We arrived at a crowded crosswalk, just a couple blocks away from where we were suppose to meet Jessica. The "Do Not Walk" sign was on, and you can tell that some of the people in the crowd were getting impatient. I watched as a long stream of cars went soaring by, leaving only a dim trail of light coming from their headlights. It usually takes about a few minutes before you can cross the street, giving me enough time to get a quick song in, but I turned my attention towards Dean, who looked like he wanted to ask me something.
"So, I take it you're not originally from Franklin," he asked in a inquisitive tone of voice.
I shook my head. "No. I used to live about an hour from here."
"Is that so," he replied. "Well, what's the name of your hometown?"
"You honestly want to know," I said as I turned my head towards him, an eyebrow raised in confusion.
Dean simply nodded with a smile, like some kid who has never left his home before.
I shrugged my shoulders, and let out a short sigh. "It's called New Benedict. It's just your average rural town with nothing to show for it."
Dean frowned a bit. "There's got to be something that's unique about it," he replied, sounding disappointed.
"Well," I said, trying to think of something about New Benedict. "It's one of the few places left in the world that you can hunt feral deer."
"Wow," Dean responded with a amazed look in his eyes. "So, have you ever hunted before?"
"Do you ever see mice hunting for deer? Only predators, like wolves and pumas, hunt for them."
"Oh." I could tell that Dean hit a touchy subject, as he scratched the back of his head, his eyes looking away from me. Hunting for ferals is one of the most controversial subjects in the anthro world. Nearly every predator believes that hunting is one of the few privileges left in the world that they can enjoy the thrill their feral counterparts get when they hunt. Prey anthros on the other hand believe that their feral kin should be protected, letting them live their lives without anthro influence. As a compromise, anthros can only hunt with a licence during a set number of days, and they can only hunt a small number of feral prey.
I usually don't get involved with politics, as this results in heated debates that I try to avoid in the first place. I could tell that Dean was still feeling uncomfortable, so with some reluctance, I decided to change the subject.
"So, you and Jessica went to high school together," I asked, being that was the only thing I knew about him.
Dean grinned and nodded. "We had the same homeroom together in our freshman year. I was going through a rather shy phase, and Jessica helped me through it."
"You went though a shy phase?"
"Well, yeah." Dean then started to blush. "I was still coming to terms with my sexuality then. I felt like nobody would understand it."
I can understand that. I started to realize I was gay during high school, but unlike Dean, I never talked to anyone about it. As far as anyone was concerned back then, I was the "loner kid"; someone who didn't want friends in the first place. I had that label since 5th grade, and it's been with me ever since. Just thinking about it now makes me depressed.
"Morgan," Dean asked, tapping my shoulder. "You alright?"
Oh, crap. Did I phase out when he was still talking? Why does this happen whenever someone talks to me? My mind started to race, hoping that he wasn't thinking that I was ignoring him. I looked right at him, trying to think up something to say, but all that came out was, "Yes?"
"We can cross now." Dean pointed towards the "Walk" sign, now flashing across the street.
My cheeks were turning red, but somehow, I felt relieved. Whenever someone talks about themselves growing up, I usually just phase them out. I really don't care to know about a person's life, since most of the time, they don't care to know about my life. To them, I'm just some random person they happen to talk to in order to feel good about themselves. It's the nature of all people to use others in order to succeed in their lives. If you have lived my life, full of instances of social ostracizing, mental manipulation, and general neglect, you would think the same way.
I guess I wasn't paying attention to myself, as I was already across the street and a few paces behind Dean. I shook my head, trying to snap back to reality, and quickened my pace in order to catch up. We walked a few more blocks until we arrived at West and 5th, where we were supposed to meet Jessica. I'm quite familiar with this part of town, since Jessica has always dragged here when she gets the chance. The entire block is nothing but dance clubs and dive-bars, two establishments I'm not really fond of. The constant noise hurts my ears, and complete strangers want to be your friend, even though they reek of alcohol and sweat.
In the back of my mind, I was hoping she would forget about this double date, and I could easily slip away, but standing under the lamppost was the blonde-haired, blue-eyed bunny herself, wearing a hot pink baby-tee, ultra-skinny jeans, and leather sandals. She was waving her hand just as soon as she saw us.
"Morgan," she yelled, even though I was only a foot away.
"Hi, Jessica," I replied, trying my best to sound like I wanted to be here.
She immediately hugged me as soon as I got close. She knows I don't like to be hugged, and I've told her this many times before, but she just keeps doing this much to my annoyance. She then moved on to hug Dean, who responded in kind with a hug of his own. I don't understand how a big lion like Dean can do this without any sense of shame, but seeing as the two are old friends, I can sort-of understand.
Jessica broke her hug with Dean, and simply smiled at the lion. "I see you found Morgan alright, Dean," she said.
"Yeah. He looked exactly like you said, Jess," he replied with a smile of his own.
I immediately remembered her description of me; a brown mouse with a sour look on his face. My cheeks grew red just thinking about it. Jessica noticed this, and patted my shoulder.
"Oh, you don't have to get upset," she said in a sympathetic tone. "It's just the only thing I could think of to describe you."
"It's alright," I replied, my cheeks still red. "Wasn't there anything else you could have used? I don't have that sour of a face."
Jessica thought for a moment, which was surprising for her. She shook her head and replied, "No, not really. You never talk about yourself when we're at work."
"That's because we're on the clock," I responded. "I don't have time for idle chatter when there's work to be done."
Dean frowned. "That's no excuse. There's more to a job that just putting in your hours and ignoring your co-workers."
"I don't ignore my co-workers when they have something relevant to say," I replied. "Anything else is a waste of time."
It's true that I don't talk about myself with other people, but I don't see the point when everyone will only talk to me when they're are too lazy to do their work, and I have to pick up the slack. Jessica does the same thing, only see uses her slender bunny body of her's to get every male co-worker to do things for her.
"Is he always this serious," Dean quietly asked Jessica, despite the fact that I could still hear them.
"Morgan just needs to relax," Jessica replied. "He was like this when I first meet, but he's a good guy once he knows you a bit more."
"Anyway," I interrupted. "Where exactly are we going?"
"Oh, we're meeting Nick at Banzai," Jessica replied. "It's this Asian-themed dance club that just opened up, but I heard great things about."
"Do they serve food there," Dean asked. "I kinda skipped dinner, and I'm starving."
"They do, but they stop serving food after 9:00."
"Then why are we still here," I inquired. "It's almost 8:30."
Jessica let out an audible gasp."Your right, Morgan. We have to get going now. Nick can't hold our seats for too long."
With that, we started to walking towards the building a block ahead of us. The word "Banzai" was written in all caps with red neon lights. The whole building was decorated with Japanese lettering and gaudy images of Asian landscapes. A long line was already forming when we arrived, but Jessica walked straight to the large, serious-looking tiger bouncer and whispered in his ear. The bouncer smiled and lifted the velvet rope across the entrance, much to the impatient crowds dismay and to our surprise.
"Well," Jessica turned to us. "Come on, let's go."
Dean and I only looked at each other, still amazed at how she got through the bouncer without being rejected. We followed her into the brightly-colored building, trying to ignore the hostile stares.
In the back of my mind, I was thinking "Why am I going through with this? This is the same song-and-dance Jessica has put me through since I moved here. How is this any different?" I looked towards Dean, smiling like he's was enjoying himself, and here I am, griping since this whole thing started. Why do I do this to myself? Why can't I just enjoy this moment, especially when I'm next to the hottest guy in existence? I try to focus my thoughts on Dean as we entered the club.
