Anon and Winnie Woodpecker

Your name is Anon, and you’d really rather not be here right now.

If it weren’t for familial obligations, you WOULDN’T be here. If it were up to you, you’d be at home, enjoying the rest of your day off in the comfort of your own home. Instead, you’re standing in the entryway of a less-than-classy establishment. It reminds you a bit of a TGI Friday’s, with all the memorabilia on the walls and table arrangement. The only differences are that this place has a large stage in the back of the dining room, and it’s most definitely not as clean. You’re thankful that the place is closed for “rehearsals” and that there are no customers in sight, since you can only assume the clientele are as unsavory as the establishment itself.

You make your way to the bar, behind which is a middle-aged badger in a faded wrestling t-shirt,  wiping off a glass. Once you make your presence known with a clearing of the throat, he looks up at you before setting the glass and rag aside.

“Let me guess,” he says in a somewhat raspy voice, which you can only assume is due to years of smoking, “you’re here for Jeff’s stuff.”

Jeff was your brother, and according to his story, he had lent some supplies to the band that operated out of the restaurant and needed you to pick them up, as his busy work schedule had rendered him unable to. Again, not something you really wanted to do, but familial obligations were something you had learned to take seriously. Besides, Jeff said he’d owe you for it, and he was pretty good on following through on that kind of thing.

You confirm the badger’s suspicion with a simple nod, and props both hands on the bar, leaning toward you.

“Jeff called and said you’d be coming by. Problem is, house band’s got the stuff with them. Guess they didn’t trust me to keep it safe. Anyway, they’ll be here in about 10 minutes or so. You’re welcome to wait, and I can fix you a drink if you’d like.”

You were hoping to just get the stuff, load it into your car and be on your way, but it seemed the universe had other plans, much to your displeasure. Still, you weren’t going to let Jeff down, so you took a seat at the bar, unzipped your jacket and asked for a glass of water. After fixing your drink, the badger, Leon, engaged you in conversation. Small talk wasn’t your strong suit, but Leon’s questions were simple enough, and he didn’t pry for many details. He asked you about Jeff, your family, where you were from, what you did for work, all the basic stuff. Likewise, you learned a bit about him. He had owned and run the Songbird’s Nest for nearly thirty years after inheriting the place from his adoptive mother. According to him, a lot of popular musicians had gotten their starts on the very stage that sat across the room; a statement you take with a grain of salt.

Eventually, the door marked “employees only” swings open, and a group of various anthros step through, carrying all manners of musical equipment, which you recognize as Jeff’s. Leon approaches them as they begin setting things up on the stage.

“You guys almost finished with Jeff’s stuff? Anon over there says he needs it back.”

One of the members, a tall zebra anthro, casts a look at you. “If Jeff wants his shit back so bad, he can come get it himself.”

You shift uncomfortably on your stool, looking anywhere but the stage as you feel heat rush to your cheeks.

Leon waves a hand. “Easy, Keith. He called and said he was too swamped with work to come down. Now are you done with it or what?”

Keith shrugs as he plugs in a microphone. “Why don’t you ask Winn? She’s the boss, apparently.”

“That’s because she doesn’t act like a jackass at every opportunity,” a Dalmatian anthro replies.

You’re noticing a lot of tension in the group, and not a lot of you getting the hell out of there. You’re ready to just leave and spend the drive home thinking up excuses to give Jeff, when you hear a female voice coming from behind the employees only door.

“Are you guys giving each other shit already? We haven’t even started rehearsing!”

Immediately following the voice, a female woodpecker anthro pushes through the doorway and makes her way onstage. The feathers on her head and face are a bright, fiery red, despite the rest of her body being primarily blue. She’s wearing a yellow tube top, some black jeans, red sneakers, and a belt with a golden-colored buckle in the shape of two capital W’s. She gives you a quick glance before turning her attention to Leon.

“The stuff we ordered should be coming in tomorrow, so we’ll fork over Jeff’s crap once we finish this rehearsal.”

“How long will that take?”

The band members turn to look at you, obviously surprised to hear you speak, as you hadn’t said a thing since they came in.

“Holy shit, he talks,” Keith says, earning a glare from the Dalmatian.

The woodpecker woman ignores him and turns to you.

“Depends, really. If we’re struggling, we usually go about an hour at the least. But, I think we’ve been doing pretty well recently, so I’d say… maybe a half hour?”

You quickly decide that’s enough time to leave, go get some food somewhere, and come back to pick up Jeff’s stuff. You wouldn’t really gain anything from sticking around here and doing nothing, anyway.

“Alright, that’s cool. I’ll just, uh… come back when you guys are-“

“Actually,” she interjects, “would you mind sticking around and like, watching us? We could use more than one outside perspective. Leon’s helpful, but he tends to nitpick a LOT.”

Leon simply shrugs in response. You struggle for an answer; you really want to get out of here already, but the idea of coming back here doesn’t sound too appealing. Of course, neither does staying here any longer than you need to. Besides, you don’t have much experience in judging musical performances, so you don’t feel like your opinion would have much weight. Despite all that, you really didn’t plan on doing much else today.

“I mean… I guess I could do that.”

The woodpecker woman gives you a warm smile, her eyes lighting up. “Awesome!” She gets up on stage in front of the microphone and turns to her bandmates. “Alright guys, let’s pick up where we left off last time.”