packstreet - oh my giddy aunt

Remmy stumbled in through the front door of the apartment and collapsed into the ratty sofa in the common area. Where ordinarily he would sit — often huddled, usually in the corner — today he spread across the chintzy cloth as if he were half liquid.

“Tough day, huh, yarnball?” asked Betty, from where she was slouching on the other side of the sofa.

“You have no idea,” Remmy mumbled, not lifting his face from the cushion. “Asshole boss had me pulling double duty, he knows I don’t do lifting. I think it’s to get back at me.”

“For what?” Betty pulled a lollipop out of her muzzle. She must have stolen it from Avo. That, or she’d found Remmy’s secret stash again. Or rather Charlie had.

“For not folding under the pressure of only working nights. He’s trying to get rid of me by giving me pred hours. It’s not working.”

Betty snorted. “You’d make a good wolf at this point, Remmy.”

“Awoo,” Remmy replied, lifting one thickly nailed hoof in agreement.

“Here, funny guy, you can have the remote. I’m not really into this one, it’s a rerun. Change the channel if you want.” Betty got up and put the device on the table a few inches from Remmy. The ram flopped his forepaws at it pathetically, not even lifting his head, then gave up. “Wow, don’t even want to see you’ve been fleeced? It must be serious. Need a neck or back rub?”

“Only if I don’t have to move,” Remmy replied.

“Come on then, up you get, just for a moment. Lie across my lap and I’ll see what I can do.”

Remmy groaned in protest, but arched his back up enough for the larger timberwolf to slide in behind him. She began kneading his shoulders and back, working each side with some amount of effort to smooth the knots out.

“You just like touching my wool.”

“And you like the back massage. So we both get something. Hush.”

 

The room was filled for a few minutes with little but the blaring television and Remmy’s bleats of discomfort, before the ram spoke again, his voice slurred and muffled amidst grunts and groans.

“Oh hells bells, Betty, that’s amazing. Where’d you learn that?”

The timberwolf mumbled something under her breath, before Remmy turned his head to look up at her.

“I took a course, okay? Thought it might… come in useful.” Betty blushed, looking away for a moment.

“Does it?”

Betty snorted. “Only for getting into the pants of yarnballs like you.” She slapped his buttcheeks, or tried to. Her paw sank soundlessly into his fleece. “Hey, that reminds me, are you having some sort of delivery or something?”

“Hmm? What?”

“I got a message, somebody actually telephoned, if you can believe it.”

“What?” Remmy flipped over onto his back and stared up at Betty. “Somebody did what?”

“Yeah, they telephoned here. I picked up. Said something about a flower?” Betty waved the paw holding the lollipop around in confusion before putting it back into her muzzle.

Instantly, Remmy’s breathing quickened and he tensed up. Betty punched his shoulder in frustration, muttering about spoiling her work. “What did you say?” he whispered, heart about to beat out of his chest.

“A flower? Someone’s delivering one, or something? At ten fifteen?”

“Did… did they say what kind of flower?”

“Um, a petunia?”

“Did they—” Remmy gulped, “—say that Petunia is coming to visit?”

“You know they might have?”

“Petunia, as in my great aunt Petunia, is coming to visit?”

Betty stopped kneading Remmy’s stomach for a moment as she cocked an ear at Remmys voice getting higher and higher pitched, and louder. “Huh, you know that would make a lot more sense. Yeah, your great aunt Petunia’s coming to visit. She’s just passing through on her way to—”

“Oh bloody mutton chops… no. No, no, no. No! How the hell did she get my number. That means she knows my address! That means… oh gods!”

Remmy flipped off the sofa — and flipped out — as he bolted through the front door, leaving Betty with two paws full of wool as he left.

“Huh, I wonder what’s gotten into him this time?”

 

***

 

Wheezing and gasping for breath, Remmy held himself up by sheer force of will and a shaking death grip on a nearby fence as he tried to collect what was left of his wits.

Great aunt Petunia was coming to visit, presumably arriving on the 10:15 train from the Meadowlands, after the rush hour. And in the name of all that was holy, she must not be allowed to make that journey.

There was only one problem: Grand Central Station in Savanna was huge, and Remmy — for all he was ginormous compared to Little Rodentia’s inhabitants — was not.

Plus he was late.

“Ten… fifteen… Meadowlands…” he wheezed at the chirpy Sloth. Chirpy, for a sloth.

“You’ve just… missed…”

“No, no, I,” Remmy gulped, panting.

“...It. Next...”

“What? No, I mean—”

“Train... is in... twenty...”

“No, when did the ten fifteen train get here?”

“Minutes… It got…”

“Please, just tell me!”

“...here at…”

“God!”

“Ten twe—”

“Fuck! Whatever!”

“—ty. Have a… nice…” the sloth began, but Remmy was already bolting away. It was 10:45, and he prayed she hadn’t actually got off yet. She’d need to visit the loo, she’d buy some tchotchke or ugly, overpriced knick knacks, she’d get into a fight about the right consistency of alfalfa smoothies… she’d get arrested, he’d have to bail her out…

Remmy’s hyperventilating returned. How could things get any worse?

 

***

 

It was well over an hour later, and things were very, very much worse. Mostly because the bus fare across town was eating into bugburga reserves, but also because he hadn’t found her. She was probably dead in a ditch somewhere, or someone was taking advantage of her. Sexually.

Oh god, the mental imagery…

Remmy slammed his head against the door, huffing in annoyance. She was probably already on her way, driving a poor cabbie halfway up the wall by telling him how to do his job, because of course she’d know the best way to get from Savanna Central to Pack Street...

Okay, Remmy, calm down. You’re right, he told himself, she’ll take forever to get here because—

“And here’s little Remmy when he was three. He was a late bloomer, still wore didees until five. Wet the bed until eleven. I remember we had such trouble potty training him.”

Remmy made a strangled bleating noise deep in the back of his throat as he opened the front door of the apartment to find the well-aged ewe sitting hunched over on the common area sofa in her thin green shawl and her obnoxiously green felt hat, the one with the ratty peacock feather in it, as she handed around his baby pictures. Because of course she had baby pictures and embarrassing stories. It was a marvel he hadn’t developed a complex from her terrible babysitting to be honest, for example by becoming a predophile that ate meat or something. Actually, her ruining his young life explained a lot about his adult one. And now she was ruining that, too.

“Oh there you are Remmy dear! Come in, come in, and close that door! We’re not in the best of neighbourhoods, sweetie. Might be foxes about.”

Remmy almost bit his tongue as he forced a rictus grin onto his muzzle. She was sitting right next to Marty, who was sitting right next to Charlie. Oh, gods, the corsac fox was already bristling. Marty was holding her paw very tightly and grinning like a lunatic.

“These nice young mammals have been telling me all about you. I just had to come visit my great nephew when I heard he’d be alone all christmas. Of course, I expected him to be at the train station to pick me up when I did,” she added, to the rest of the pack. “He’s always been a disappointment.”

“Nana, I’m right here you know,” Remmy bleated angrily.

“Of course you are, dearie! But where was he when my poor old bones were left at the station? Always late, our Remmy. One day he’s going to be late for his own funeral.”

Ozzy cackled, picking up another picture. “Tell us more, Nana Petunia.”

“Did I tell you about the first time we gave him icecream, Samson?”

Ozzy cackled, and shook his head. “Go on.”

“Well— Remmy!” Petunia turned to the ram still standing in the doorway, a scowl on her features. Her beady eyes glistened behind tiny half-moon spectacles as she glared at her great nephew.

“What!?” Remmy yelled, holding back a bleat as he stomped a hoof.

“Don’t you take that tone with me, young man! You’re not too big to put across my knee! He always was a feisty one. Don’t worry,” Petunia patted Avo’s paw gently in an aside, “that means he’ll give you good strong lambs.”

Avo almost choked on her lollipop.

“Remmy! I said close that door! At least when he’s that late, he won’t be too quick, eh, eh?” The old ewe dug her elbows into the Egyptian wolf at her side and cackled merrily.

This time Avo did choke on her lollipop. Very quickly, Al leaped up and swiftly performed the Heimlich maneuver. The lollipop ejected from Avo’s muzzle, flew through the air and spattered to a halt a few feet in front of Remmy.

“Oh, you’re a big lad aren’t you, Ed?” said Petunia as Al moved around her to sit back down again. She held out a hoof for Al to help her up, which to his surprise he did.

“It’s Al,” said Al, gruffly.

“That’s what I said, Ed. Good strong arms on you.” Petunia felt Al’s muscles, bleating appreciatively as she squeezed them between her aged hooves. “Let me know when you’re available tonight, eh, eh? Could go for a roll in the hay any time, Ed my boy. Why can’t you be more like Ed, Remmy?”

“Al,” said Remmy, rolling his eyes as he stepped closer.

“He’s never been much to look at,” Petunia said, confiding in Avo. “Still, it’s good for the flock when they won’t stray.”

“Nana, please stop talking,” Remmy begged, glancing at Al, who was biting his tongue and trying not to bark out a laugh.

“Oh?” Petunia peered over her spectacles first at Remmy, then at Al. “Are you in one of those new-fangled homo-sexual flockings then? Tell me at least some of the flock’ll be yours. I won’t judge. Such a disappointment. Is this nice young lady yours? Martina, dear, would you fetch somebody to take my bags up to my room? Here, have a candy. Don’t tell your mother.”

Great aunt Petunia fished out a sugar-dust covered boiled sweet from her bottomless, ugly purse and hoofed it over to Marty, who was sitting perched on her knee. “Such a sweet girl, so pretty.”

Marty looked oddly conflicted and more than a little lost. He too looked up at Al, who rolled his eyes.

“Nana, how—” Remmy coughed, clearing his throat, “—how long will you be staying?” His voice squeaked, desperation almost taking it from him.

“Oh just the night, dear, I want to wait until it’s morning again before I leave. Might be preds about. Like wolves.”

Remmy, who had been about to suggest a shorter visit, choked on his words. He just gesticulated silently at Al, pleading for clemency.

“You know how preds get; they see a poor, defenceless ewe like myself wandering alone at night, can’t help themselves. It’s a good thing I’ve got such a strong, virile ram to look out for me, isn’t it, Ed?”

“Uh huh,” said ‘Ed’ through gritted, wide, smiling teeth, staring directly at Remmy. “I can guarantee there won’t be any wolves ravishing you tonight.”

“Martina, darling, can you help an old lady to her room?”

“Th-th-that’s okay, Nana, you can stay at the hot—” Remmy tried, but failed.

“Room 316,” huffed Al, suddenly, “I’ll make sure there’s clean sheets.” Room 316 was next to Al’s, it was empty except for a single bed and basic amenities. It was usually left as a storage room. Al wasn’t the landlord, but he did have an extra set of keys. Being the alpha counted for few things these days, but there were perks that went with the responsibilities.

“Thank you, Ed. I’m so glad Remmy’s flock has somebody useful running it. Martina?”

“Umm, yes, Nana Petunia?” Marty squeaked, holding out a paw.

“Lead the way, dear, my eyes aren’t what they used to be. You,” Petunia gesticulated at Charlie, “help carry my bags.”

“Of course, Nana” Charlie said, smiling sweetly.

“?” managed Remmy.

“I’ll help unpack, too,” Charlie purred. “You never know who might try to take advantage of such a sweet mammal as yourself.”

“Such a thoughtful young ewe,” replied Petunia, patting Charlie on her cheek. She fished out a hoofful of candies and gave them to Charlie before marching for the stairs. Despite her age, she lead the way, with Marty scurrying to catch up and Charlie trying to decide the best way to get somebody else to do her dirty work for her. In the end, she bullied the twins into assisting. Al glared at Ozzy until he got the hint and went to make sure that of Nana Petunia’s things would get to their destination.

Remmy slumped into the sofa and put his head into his hooves. “Oh god, oh god, oh god. I, she, I’m…”

“You had her growing up?” asked Betty, sitting in the seat next to him, peering through the pile of pictures Petunia had left behind. Remmy just nodded, wordlessly. Betty, to Remmy’s surprise, pulled the sheep into a hug. She didn’t loosen her grip until he stopped trying to escape.

“Oh god, I’m sorry, Al,” wailed Remmy.

“Yarnball,” said Al, his storm-laden muzzle suddenly clearing as his expression changed to one of laughter, “this is the best christmas present you could have ever gotten me. I’m going to be laughing about this for ages.”

“What? What? Wait, what?” moaned Remmy.

Betty sniggered, booping the lost ram on his nose. “He means blackmail material, yarnball. All those pictures, all those stories... “

“Oh, god.”

She couldn’t cause that much trouble in only 24 hours, could she?