Coffee Nips Anonymous

"Don't be shy," he growled, "grab a fucking plate. There's plenty for everyone."

I didn't have to be asked again. I ate my fill (twice), then I passed out from exhaustion.

****

"Who in Hell does that purple bastard think he is!?"

Abruptly roused from my slumber by the shouting, I opened my eyes and saw the folks who had fed me my much-needed breakfast. There was the beret-wearing White Bengal Tiger, who I found out was named Lucky, two puffins named Simon and Simoné, an older gentleman named Max, who muttered something to the effect of one, pause, two, pause, three, pause, two, pause, one (repeating), and a small red-orange housecat named Renée. They were all listening to the one who had been shouting.

"Can anyone tell me," continued the eight-foot-tall yellow canary, "who in Hell this Barney bastard thinks he is?!" He was waving an entertainment magazine as he yelled. He read the caption under the photo of the large purple T-Rex with a sarcastic tone, "'Barney: the Big Bird of the Nineties!' What a crock! What's wrong with the kids these days? Are their heads full of oatmeal? I carried the Children's Television Industry on my shoulders for almost two decades, and now this! This purple fucker is in, and I'm out! 'Big Bird of the Nineties' my feathered yellow ass!" The large fowl pulled out a .357 Magnum and cocked the hammer. "There can only be one Big Bird, and he ain't no goddam Purple Fuckasaurus! You're dead, Barney! Do you hear me!? Dead! Dead! Dead! And DEAD!"

He got up, apparently set on carrying out his threat, but Lucky stopped him.

"Put the fucking gun away, and stop yer bellyaching!" he growled. "You think you're the only one who's got problems?! At least you've had your time in the fucking spotlight! I got beat out by Tony for that spokesman job. 'They're fucking great!' he says, and he gets the fucking job. I could have said that! But no! He's got an uncle at the top of the company! Fucking nepotism! Now I'm out on the fucking streets, but am I bitter? Fuck no! So sit down, Bird, and shut the fuck up!"

"No more weasels, please," muttered Max.

"Max, 'e is right, monsieur Bird," said Simoné in a thick, but not at all hokey, French accent. "Ze magazine is only making wit' ze guess. We only 'ave 1988 years, mon ami. It is not quite ze nineties."

The giant canary eased the hammer back down and put the gun away, as Simon gave him a shoulder rub.

Lucky looked over in my direction, once Big Bird calmed down a bit. "Hey stranger, are you feeling okay?"

"Much better, thank you," I replied. "A little grimy, but otherwise fine."

"You're new to the streets, aren't you?" asked Big Bird.

"Yeah, I guess so. I mean, I'm not sure, but it doesn't seem like something I'm familiar with."

Simon and Simoné approached me from either side, and I tucked my robe down between my legs. "You don't know if you're new to the streets? How can this be?" asked Simon from my right.

"From zis bruise on 'is 'ead," answered Simoné, "I would guess 'e 'as amnesia, mon ami."

Renée hopped up onto my lap, licked my nose with her rough tongue and then rubbed the top of her head under my chin. As I began stroking her fur and scratching behind her ears and the front of her neck, she started purring loudly. "I like him," she said. "Can we keep him?"

"You sure can," I said, and poked her cute little pink nose. "Feed me once, and I'll follow you anywhere."

Max stumbled over to me, gazed directly into my eyes and exclaimed with conviction, "I'm a big fan of the plastic worm."

****

Evan (a.k.a. Apricot Jones, Reverend Spaulding, Fletcher, Talisman or Camouflage, depending on his mood) E. Evans had found a good deal on a nice little tree house, about a half mile from Cat's apartment, near Inglewood. Emphasis on the 'little'. It consisted of a small combination living room/bedroom, a tiny kitchenette and a bathroom so small that he had to do his business from just outside the doorway. Kneeling.

It did, however, have a tremendous amount of closet space. "Great for storing acorns and walnuts for the winter." That from his Treelord and neighbor, Billy, an elderly squirrel from Boise, who enjoyed a good game of chess from time to time.

Small though it was, the apartment was furnished, and he couldn't beat the rent with a stick. "Against the rules, y'know," said Billy. Seventy-five dollars a month, including utilities, is something a wise apartment hunter doesn't pass up, unless said apartment is on fire.

The good Reverend had also acquired an automobile the night before, on his way to look at his new apartment. The car was no less tiny than his apartment, but would get him around town. He climbed into said automobile, a brand new silver Sombrero JustBiggerThanAToaster™, and made his way to Cat's apartment. He had promised Cat a ride to the local We R Toys™ (Cat's own car was in the shop for a new muffler), where Cat planned to purchase something that might make searching for Animal easier. No one Cat had asked had seen hide nor hair of Animal, including his many brothers and sisters, so Cat called Evan to tell him just that. When, by two o'clock pm, Animal still hadn't shown up, the general feeling of concern prompted the decision to go over the city with a fine-toothed comb. Talisman was not sure what Cat could possibly find at We R Toys™ that would help in the search, but he was sure he would find out soon enough.

When Talisman entered the abode of Charles Atlas Tiddlywinks (a.k.a. CAT), said resident was tightening the titanium screws on his steel plate. He had been clearing the cobwebs from his mind so that he would be thinking clearly for the search.

Cat was unsure what he was looking for exactly, but he was certain that he would find it at We R Toys™, next to RiverRat Mall. That was, after all, where he had gotten his trusty Dukes of Hazzard™ laser pistol, oh so many years ago.

A short drive later, they were combing the aisles of the World's Biggest and Greediest Toy Store. Every so often, Cat would pick up a toy and toss it right back on the shelf, after a brief examination.

"Uh-oh," said Talisman, when Cat picked up a Barbie™ Knife-Thrower play set.

Cat turned to see what had alarmed his companion, but didn't see his companion.

"Sorry about that," said the voice of the Talisman, "I kind of disappear once in awhile. I barely get a warning tingle, and time to say 'Uh-oh', and poof! I'm nothing."

"Whoa! Freaky! Well, no harm done, so no need to apologize," said Cat. "Ah!"

The 'Ah!' came out of Cat's mouth as the objects he sought came into his line of sight. Amidst a selection of toys inspired by recent (or not so recent) movies, he spied a costume from The Rocketteer™, complete with jetpack. He also snatched up a pair of wrist radio communication watches, as seen on Dick Tracy™.

"Will you be needing batteries?" asked the invisible man called by many names.

"Yeah, lessee. One watch battery for each of the watches and four 'D' batteries for the jet pack. Oh and I'd better get some new ones for my pistol."

"What size?" asked John C. Penguin, as he gathered up the batteries that Cat needed.

"Six double-A's."

"Got 'em. How is buying these toys going to help us find Animal?"

"You'll see when we get outside."

"Okay. Hold on one second." Reverend Spaulding then picked up a hand puppet resembling Kevin Costner™ from the movie Square Dances With Puppies™, and made it appear as if Kevin was carrying the batteries. "I don't want to freak out the check-out girl."

It didn't help, actually. The check-out girl was so excited that Kevin Costner™, or at least half of him, came to buy batteries at the We R Toys™ where she worked, that she fainted dead away. Well, not dead, but she wasn't able to ring up the purchase. The temptation to interpret this as a free gift was great, but Cat and Camouflage decided to be good and wake the poor girl, after hiding the puppet. She was quite upset that the top half of Kevin hadn't stuck around, but she managed to give correct change anyway.

Out in the parking lot, Cat strapped on the Rocketteer™ jetpack. He didn't bother with the rest of the costume; it was superfluous. Then he handed Talisman one of the watches and strapped the other one on his own wrist. "Well, here goes nothin'," he said, and turned on the pack. In a moment, he was hovering high above the store. He flew a few circles, and then Talisman heard his voice over the two-way wrist communicator watch that he wore. "It works! This should come in handy!"

Fletcher hit the call button on his watch, and spoke into it, "I can't say I'm not amazed by this, sir! And I've seen a lot o' poop in my day!"

****

Our Spaghetti-O™ supply had gotten pretty low, so Simon decided it was time to stock up. "I think we should also get you some decent clothes, Cuddly-Pooh."

He was addressing me. For lack of a name, Renée had started calling me that and it kind of caught on with the rest of the group. Ah well, it would do until I remembered who I was. "I agree," I agreed. "It's really difficult to keep my naughty bits covered with this robe."

"Especially in the morning, eh Cuddly-Pooh?" grinned Lucky.

"Shaddap, you!" I blushed.

Simoné turned to Max. "Get ze cow, si vous plait."

Max dutifully got up and walked behind a large pile of bricks. He dragged out a beat-up cardboard cutout of a neon-pink Jersey™ cow.

"Good," said Simon, "let's go."

We followed the train tracks back to the river. Stopping approximately fifty feet from the bridge, Simon and Simoné set up the cow on the tracks. The rest of us continued on, and climbed the support beams above the bridge. Once they had the cow set up, the two puffins joined us on the bridge.

Then we waited.

While we waited, Lucky filled me in on the plan, and he'd barely had time to do so before Big Bird called out, "TRAIN!"

The train clacked along the tracks and over the bridge. About halfway across, the engineer apparently saw the neon-pink cardboard cow, because he began blowing his whistle over and over again. And when it was clear to him that the cow was not going anywhere, he applied the brakes. The train slowed with a squeal, but the cow remained still. There was no chance the train could stop before hitting the cow, if the cow didn't move (and being made of cardboard, that wasn't likely), but the engineer made every reasonable attempt.

Simoné gave us all a wing-signal as the train slowed, and we all jumped down onto it just before it hit the cow and sped off. Lucky then peeked over the edge of the car we were on. "Kroger! Good, we're in luck!" he called over the rushing wind and train noises.

"Don't you mean 'Kroger™'?" I asked.

"Fuck Kroger and their registered fucking trademark!" he roared as he pulled open the door to the boxcar and began picking up members of our party and tossing them into it. When he'd tossed everyone else in, he motioned for me to follow him. We walked towards the rear of the train and stopped on a car that Lucky said was marked, "The Gap. We can get you dressed here. And I don't give a fuck about their trademark, either." He opened up the door, picked me up and tossed me in. Then he leapt in after me. "Find something to wear, and make it fucking snappy."

I hastily rooted through boxes. Fitting a frame my size is no easy task, but I managed to find a flannel shirt and some overalls that fit, as well as some Fruits and Vegetables of the Loom™ and even some sandals that would do in a pinch. Which was exactly what I was in.

When I'd finished getting dressed, I saw Lucky place a slip of paper between two boxes. I noticed the letters I, O and U on it, and the word 'Fricassean', which I somehow knew to be Nashville's leading newspaper. "What's that?" I asked.

Reading his expression was difficult, at best. "It's an IOU. What's it look like?"

"Why are you...?"

"Look, just 'cause I'm fucking homeless, doesn't mean I think I shouldn't pay for anything."

"But you've signed it 'the Fricassean'."

"Hey, I'm fucking homeless! I can't afford to pay for all this stuff! Now, we have to get off this fucking train!" And, indeed, the train was slowing down. We waited until the train slowed to a relatively safe speed and jumped off. A tuck and roll later, and I came to a stop a bit dusty but otherwise unharmed. We dashed into some high weeds and then headed back towards the brickyard. When we caught up to the others along the way, they presented Lucky with the loot that they acquired from the train.

"Corn-dogs and lemon-lime soda," he said. "Not bad, kids!"

Simon smiled. "We also got a few cases of Chef Boy-Are-You-Dumb™ Ravioli," he said.

"Did you fucking say 'Ravioli'?" Lucky snarled with a smile.

"He sure did!" said Renée.

"Sweet!"

****

"So... Animal is definitely missing then," said Squasha, after Cat had introduced her to the invisible man known as Talisman, Apricot Jones, John C. Bouncy-Bouncy, Mr. Tushy-Bottom or Reverend Whatsisname (depending on how close it was to lunch-time), and told her all that had happened.

"It sure as heck looks that way," said Cat. "He told Newton that he'd go stay with one of his sisters. I called his youngest sister, Lynette, and she didn't know where he was. She called everyone else in their family, and six hours later, called me back to tell me that no one had seen or heard from him. They were worried that his hat might have hurtled him forward in time again, and they'd have to wait another 15 years to see him."

"But you told her that his hat was buried, right?" asked Bill Nefarious, who was busy in Squasha's kitchen, getting everyone a nice refreshing beverage.

"Right," he said, "but of course he's still missing, so they're still worried."

"Well, I've got something that might help," said Squasha, touching a bronze medallion which she wore on a chain around her neck. It was nicely decorated with the face of Athena on one side and an owl on the other. It also doubled as a bottle-opener, when needed. "Animal gave this to me back just before we invaded Eternia. Got it out of his hat."

"What does it do?" asked the Man of a Thousand Nicknames.

"It's a homing device, geared in with my teleporting ability. If Animal needs me in an emergency, he whispers my name and it glows bright puce, and I can teleport right to him. Same if I need him; I whisper his name and teleport, and it takes me to him. I don't even have to know where he is. But it only works if he's within my teleport range."

"Well, I'd say this qualifies as an emergency," said Cat.

"I think yer right." She held it between her palms and whispered, "Animal."

Bill came into the room with a tray full of drinks, and joined everyone in staring at the medallion. It was glowing. And it was a shade of puce. But it wasn't all that bright. "What does that mean?" asked the penguin.

"I'm not at all sure," said Squasha, sounding not at all sure. "I guess there's only one way to find out..."

"Wait a minute!" said Bill Nefarious, "I'm coming with you!"

"Okay. Cat? Can you receive calls from any phone on your Dick Tracy™ wrist radio communication watches?"

"Yep," he answered.

"Good. We'll call you as soon as we know something. What's the number?"

Cat hastily scribbled his and Talisman's numbers down on a piece of paper and handed it over to Squasha, who put it in her pocket. She grabbed Bill's flipper-wing, and she and the penguin vanished in a puff of azure smoke (with a little teal mixed in).

Talisman and Cat sat impatiently sipping their Fuckleberry Punch Kool-Aide™.

****

Mike expected a typical boring night, working at the West End Avenue Kwik Sak™. He expected to deal with various people buying late-night snacks and late-night beer and late-night girlie magazines. He certainly didn't expect to see what he saw when he went out to check the levels in the gas-tanks.

As he scribbled down the numbers in the logbook, he glanced up to see a puff of azure smoke (with a little teal mixed in), and out of it stepped a penguin, wearing a fetching mid-length black skirt and an equally fetching white peasant blouse. His gaze was quickly distracted from this sight by the very attractive bleach-blonde young woman (who he thought looked no older than 17, but no younger than 18) stepping out of the puff of smoke with the penguin. She was dressed very fetchingly in a full-length birthday suit!

"I don't think he can hear you, Squasha," said Bill, "he seems distracted."

Squasha had been trying to ask the Kwik Sak™ employee if he'd seen Animal (after looking around and not seeing him herself), but all Mike could do was stare, mouth agape, at her lovely nudidity. "Oops!" she said when she realized what the Kwik Sak™ employee was staring at. She grabbed Bill's flipper-wing for a two-inch 'port that would remove her clothing from the penguin's body and replace it on her own. "With all the strip-clubs in this town, you'd think this guy had seen a naked woman before, for fuck's sake," she said with a slight blush. "Now," she started again, when the puff of raw umber smoke (with a little burnt sienna mixed in) had dissipated, "have you seen a guy with long wavy dark-brown hair, mutton chop side-burns, blue eyes? He's six foot two, somewhere between 200 and 225 pounds, wearing a bathrobe and carrying a towel and a doorknob."

"Um... well... hmmmmmmm," he began, as his eyes and brain recovered from the beautiful sight he'd seen a moment before, "Oh yes! Someone came in last night wearing a bathrobe. He bought a box of coffee nips with a fifty-dollar bill. I remember 'cause I wasn't going to break his fifty, and he nearly blew a gasket!"

"That's Animal, alright," said Bill.

"Yep," said Squasha. "Do you know where he went?"

"Well," said Mike, "as soon as he left the store, he was mugged by a mean-looking gang of prairie dogs, and then he got hit by a truck."

"WHAT?!" cried Squasha and Bill, in unison.

"He got hit by a truck! Please don't kill me!"

"We are no more likely to kill you than Animal was," said Squasha. Mike did not look comforted. "We're not going to kill you! What happened then? Do you know what hospital he was taken to?"

"Um... he wasn't taken to a hospital."

"Pardon?"

"It was the strangest thing... that truck didn't look like it was going all that fast, but it must have been going at breakneck speed, because when it smacked his noggin, it sent him flying at least ten blocks." He pointed west. "He kind of disappeared over that row of stores."

"Zounds!" exclaimed Bill.

****

"Zounds!" exclaimed an unseen Talisman, after Bill and Squasha told him and Cat what they had learned from Mike. It didn't take them long to get to the Kwik Sak™, after Squasha phoned them.

"If Animal was hit in the head, he might have amnesia," observed Cat, "which explains why the medallion didn't work right."

"My theory, too," stated Squasha. "I'm guessing that the medallion took me to the last place where Animal was, where he was sure who he was."

"As good a theory as any," said Bill, "but it doesn't tell us where he is now. Where do we go from here?"

"Well... we might as well see if we can figure out where he landed," she said with a shrug.

As our heroes hopped into Talisman's Sombrero™, an elderly couple walked in to the Kwik Sak™ to purchase a pack of gum and a box of mice. "Please don't kill me!" pleaded Mike.

****

"Y'know," said Cat, as they drove down West End Avenue in Reverend John C. Penguin's small but roomy Sombrero™, "we should swing by Dragon Park and pick Newton up. His nose could be a big help in tracking Animal down, now that we at least have a starting point."

"Dragon Park?" asked a disembodied voice from the driver's seat.

Cat turned to look at Talisman. Cat didn't see the good Reverend, of course, because he was still invisible, but knew he was there. "Officially, it's called Fannie Mae Dee's Park, but we call it Dragon Park on account of there is a dragon living there. Don't worry though. Much like Gamera, this dragon is a friend to children and punk rockers."