Franza has a Disappointing Drink

It’s a family inn.

It took Franza a good several minutes to come to this revelation and it hit them like a ton of bricks. Their fur was crawling for attention, their ego starving, and they had walked into arguably the worst place to pick up a cute girl.

Most of the women were seated next to a partner or two, some with their children, which not only quashed the hopes of the dog having a one-night stand, but made them feel all the lonelier in comparison.

Being in The Resistance sucks.

The dog hadn’t seen any other inn or tavern signs however. Since they were already there it seemed like it wouldn’t hurt to order a drink at the bar, see if they couldn’t cheer themselves up a little.

“You look like you need a drink of our fancy wine,” said the comically old voice of a woman from behind the bar. She was short, so short in fact that the dog could only see her from the eyes up.

“I do need some fancy wine,” Franza answered. “It has been a long time since someone bought me a drink.”

“Well, I ain’t buyin’ it for you,” the old woman clarified. “We’re not some crapshoot alcohol charity like those charlatans in Eeeee, and the last thing I need is John Adams all up in my business.”

“John whomst?”

“Order your drink.”

Franza hung their head, disappointed that they would have to pay for their drink, but the scolding tone of the old woman had taken their mind off of being so alone, so that was something. “I’ll take some of the fancy wine.”

“Red, or blue?”

Franza had their mouth open to answer white, which had been their favorite drink color back in Ruffsport. They didn’t know that blue was even an option. “Well, which one’s fancier?”

“Red’s fancier, blue’s prettier.”

Franza thought about it. “Could I have a half glass of blue, a half glass of red, and then a cute cup to mix them in? With a little umbrella?”

If they were going to order off menu, they were doing to commit to it.

“So, you want a Furry Navel then do you?”

Franza had never heard of that before. “Yes?”

“We’re all out of umbrellas.”

“Oh,” said a thoroughly dejected Franza.

“But I can give you some round ice cubes and a crazy straw.”

“Done!”

The woman disappeared for a moment before her hands shot up to place the aforementioned items on the table, and not in a glass with their drink order like Franza had anticipated. One of the big round ice cubes rolled off the table. The dog picked up the crazy straw in one paw and looked at it. The old woman looked back, and Franza realized they wouldn’t be getting a drink to put them in. “Oh.”

“Is there a problem?”

“Is there a drink that comes with this or…?”

“I said I could get you round ice cubes and a crazy straw, and you said done, and I did it. What else you want from me?”

Franza couldn’t find the lie in that sequence of events so they just backed down. “Nothing, I guess.”

“Now,” said the woman as she climbed up onto a step stool behind the bar, leaning in closer to Franza’s face to make intense eye contact. “Why don’t you tell Old Mother Fart about your troubles?”

“Old Mother…?”

“Fart, yes. Is there a problem?”

Franza decided not to answer, opting instead to launch into the trouble-telling portion. “I just joined the – I joined a group to impress this girl I like. But it’s a lot harder than I thought it would be, and the girl hasn’t noticed yet, and I miss people buying me things and giving me attention.”

“Do you want to know my advice?”

“Yes.”

Mother Fart was silent on the matter, although her eyes seemed to be screaming.

Franza leaned in closer, waiting for an answer. Mother Fart leaned in, not providing one. Franza leaned in further and nearly fell out of their seat when Mother Fart shouted an answer at them. “Well too bad!”

Mean.

Out loud they just said, “Oh, okay,” and attempted to sit back on their stool. “Can I get a glass of the blue wine please?”

“That I can do for you.”

Franza brushed off the ice cube they had sitting on the table, and put it into the wine along with the crazy straw. It didn’t taste all that good, but it was very pretty as promised.

“You all set there?”

Franza was about to say they were, but then an idea struck them. “Actually, could I get some paper and a pencil?”

The best thing that had happened to them since they’d joined The Resistance was when the guard they’d been fighting had drawn a very flattering picture of their triumphant moment in battle. Maybe if they could have kept it, they’d be feeling a little better, and the next best thing seemed to be to draw a picture of themselves.

When they had the correct supplies in front of them, they started doodling. Franza wasn’t as artistically talented as the guard, clearly, but they did like seeing their face in fine art. Before they knew it, the doodles had turned into a sentence in their largely pictorial language, and the next thing they knew they were writing out a letter to Yvette.

They folded the letter up, wondering if Yvette would ever read it as they stuffed it into their bag. It felt good to confess their feelings though, even if it was just in a small way.

“I wrote her a letter

‘Cause I love Yvette… fur!”

They were happy to have thought of a rhyme on the spot.

“And the day that I – “

“Please don’t sing in here,” Mother Fart said sternly.

With a heavy dog heart, Franza paid their bar tab and left the family inn.