Pack Street: Movie Night

******Pack Street: Movie Night

 

***Part One: Opening Crawl

 

Some days, someone else's misfortune is your lucky break. Like today for instance, where I'm hurrying back down Pack Street hauling a battered cardboard box back to my apartment.

 

This box was part of a shipment that showed up out of the blue at work, and after getting the container open my boss tells us it's crammed with used electronics. Not really our usual thing, so he puts in a few calls and sure enough, some bonehead back at central filed a few forms wrong and sent us the wrong container. Now this being the end of the week, they won't have anyone to pick it up again until Monday.

 

My boss can be a good guy when he wants to be, like when there's a lightly-used surround sound system with all the trimmings he can take for a weekend test-drive, so he cuts us a deal -- everyone on the shift can borrow something from the shipment for the weekend, so long as it ABSOLUTELY makes it back before the pickup time.

 

That's what has me peeking into the lobby before stepping inside with a box stuffed with a certified pre-owned home theater system. It's not that I don't trust my new packmates, just that I can already see how waving a shiny almost-new toy in front of them goes. Besides, considering how things've been going at work lately, I don't need the stress of worrying about one of them breaking the damn thing.

 

The coast is clear. I let out the breath I was holding in and gently slip through the front door with my prize. So far, so good.

 

I make it to the hallway before my luck falls through. “Hey there, fluff-puff. What's in the box?” Damn. So close to home free.

 

Turning, I come face to mohawk with Anneke, peering curiously at the parcel I'm clutching with both hooves. “Hey, Anneke. And uh, nothing much, just some junk from work.”

 

“I didn't know warehouses gave homework,” a voice behind me chuckles. I turn back to see Wolter leaning out from their apartment. Great, surrounded. “Maybe we can help you out. Anneke and me did pretty well in school, if you add our grades together.”

 

“No, that's-” I feel a tug from behind as Anneke tries to surreptitiously peek inside and I yank the box back from her. “That's fine, thanks. I was just gonna settle in for the night.”

 

“Sounds dull.” Anneke appears at my elbow and sticks her tongue out in disapproval. “C'mon Remmy, don't hold out on us. Watcha up to?”

 

Sensing they won't be discouraged, I sigh and open up my apartment, stepping in as the curious pair follow in my footsteps. “Look, it's just some beat-up electronics I'm borrowing from work. No great mystery.” I rest the box on the counter and pop the top, hoping against hope the bundle of wires will bore them.

 

I can tell immediately from how their expressions light up that I've no such luck. I have to squash a second sigh as the two aardwolves heedlessly plunge their paws into my parcel and yank out the projector. “Oh man,” Wolt marvels. “An original Pandasonic X-90! There was a family down the block when we were growing up who had one of these.”

 

“Like having a movie theater in your living room,” adds Anneke. She's already spooling out handfuls of cables. “Waaaay better than the rinky-dink boxes we've got around here.”

 

“Well, like I said,” gripping the projector firmly and pulling it back. “I've only got it for the weekend, and I don't want to bring it back damaged. So if you two don't mind...?”

 

Anneke blinks at me a few times, as if the thought hadn't even crossed her mind she wasn't invited. “What, you're just gonna coop yourself up with a rig like this for a whole weekend? Ditch the rest of us?”

 

“Well,” I snort, rolling my eyes. “When you put it like that it almost sounds rude.”

 

“Uh, duh.” My sarcasm fails to land. “You need some privacy for your perverted pornfest, Rem? You know you can share with us, we won't judge.” Anneke licks her chops in anticipation. “Shit, I can even think of a few good flicks in our library.”

 

Okay, enough's enough. I can already see my whole weekend slipping away the longer these two have to rummage. I put my hoof down and cross my arms. “It's not for porn, and it's not for sharing. I just want a little peace and quiet this weekend, is that too much to ask?”

 

“Well, you're gonna have it,” replies Wolter, pulling a cable loose from the mess. He holds it up to me for inspection, but when it's clear I don't get the message he reaches back in the box and extracts a speaker. I'm still not seeing his point, it's just a-

 

Oh, damnit.

 

I groan and rub a hoof down my face as Wolter tries jamming the cable plug into the differently-shaped socket in the speaker. After a few sad attempts he pantomimes the wire going limp while a cheeky grin spreads across his face. “Grab the wrong cable, grazer?”

 

And it's definitely too late to double back to work for a replacement. Hell, it might even be too late to pick up another one from a shop, assuming that goes better than my cellphone charger adventure. Anneke raises her eyebrows with a sudden epiphany. “You know... Charlie usually has a lot of bits and pieces stashed around. She's a wiz with cable boxes. Maybe if you brought her your speaker she'd be able to help you out?”

 

“We'll get the snacks,” Wolter adds, jamming the nonfunctional electronics into my protesting hooves before setting off after his sister. “You get Charlie. Pick something good!”

 

“Pick something dirty!” Anneke shouts over her shoulder with a laugh, the pair of them disappearing around the corner of the hallway. For a moment I consider yelling after them, but I already know there's no point. So much for being discrete.

 

***Part Two: Box Office

 

Anneke and Wolter were right about one thing, at least. Charlie can probably fix this. Of course, I normally think of the furtive fox as more of a lockpicker than an electrician, but she DID set me up with free cable that one time. Unless I suddenly develop a taste for silent movies, she's all I've got.

 

I put the speaker and the wire in a bag and head down the hall to Charlie and Marty's apartment. This is all assuming she's even in, instead of on another odd job. I sidle up to the door and give it two sharp raps with my hoof, glancing around to confirm we're alone. There shouldn't be anything suspicious about a neighbour asking to borrow a wire, but with Charlie these deals can get a little out of control.

 

It feels like a minute or two have gone by without a sound from inside and I'm about to give up on the whole idea when the door springs open all at once. Charlie's standing there in the doorway, dressed in an oversized shirt and sweatpants. Do career criminals take nights off? “Cormo.”

 

“Charlie,” I reply with a nod, opening the bag.

 

She takes a peek inside and pauses for a moment before answering. “I'm flattered, of course.”

 

“...What?” I take another look in the bag, briefly wondering if I've forgotten some kind of obscure pred mating ritual involving speaker parts.

 

“Your invitation,” she clarifies, wandering back into the darkened apartment. I can assume Marty's not in, night vision or not the room doesn't look fit for reading at the moment. “I'll have to check my schedule, naturally, but I may be free tonight.” There's a pop as a partially concealed trunk opens and spills a treasure trove of spare parts on the floor.

 

“No, that's not-” I take a minute to collect myself, remembering who I'm dealing with. “I just need a cable to hook up this kind of speaker with a projector.”

 

“Mhm, a Pandasonic X-80?” she asks, rooting around through the detritus. “Or, no -- that model was recalled. X-90? This should do.” Charlie gives something near the back of the pile a tug and comes up with a fraying piece of wire, but on the end looks like the right kind of plug for the projector. “And I assume you want to actually use this projector, yes? To watch movies?” I hold out my hoof, but she stops short, patiently twirling the cable between her claws.

 

I get the picture. “You're invited to come watch too, obviously.”

 

“Obviously,” she repeats with just a little satisfaction, handing over the connector before turning back to the room. “Although unless the projector came with an accompanying movie stockpile, you may want to pick up something to actually play. I already know you don't have any discs of your own.”

 

She's right -- Charlie probably knows when my almond milk'll expire and how soon I'll run out of shampoo. “I was just gonna hit up the gas station on the corner. They've got a movie rental rack near the back.” Just about the only place you can rent these days.

 

Charlie stops halfway through picking up some laundry off the ground to wrinkle her nose. “Their selection leaves something to be desired. Why not take a trip to the library? Marty curates an acceptable collection. He warrants an invitation to any pack movie night.”

 

Wait, a pack movie night? Now this thing's really spinning out of control. “Who said it was a-”

 

“We'll get everything set up downstairs!” I startle just a bit as Anneke and Wolter come rocketing by, with a sack of popcorn, a few pop bottles and my half-unwrapped projector between them. There's no way they've been to the store and back, did they just have that stuff lying around? Anneke slows down long enough to yell over her shoulder “should be all ready to roll by the time you're back with Marty!”

 

“Hey, careful with that thing! I need to return it by...” no point, they're already out of earshot. I guess this is happening. A part of me wants to put up more of a fight, but I can only imagine how much the twins'd whine to Al if I backed out now. “Great. I'll... go get Marty.”

 

Charlie nods. “I'll supervise installation.”

 

“Thanks.” Charlie just shrugs. I figure I should get going and follow after Anneke and Wolter down to the lobby, dropping off the bag with the speaker and Charlie's cable while the twins are already trying to balance the projector on top of a stack of ancient phone-books. Better not to watch.

 

***Part Three: Critical Review

 

Stepping out onto the pavement, the night's still going strong. By the nocturnal standards of Pack Street it's business hours, and I can see plenty of preds moving about. I make tracks to the library and internally steel myself for whatever earful Marty's going to give me this time. My money's on the resident librarian shitting on film wholesale as crass but who knows? He likes to keep me guessing.

 

It's a quiet night for the library when I walk through the door, which means nobody's tried to pick a literary fight with Marty yet. I assume that'll just make him restless, and sure enough as I come up to the counter I can see him flicking irritably through a novel made with a much larger mammal in mind. He sees me coming and his expression finds a way to get even more sour.

 

“What do YOU want?”

 

“That any way to greet a customer?”

 

“Libraries don't have CUSTOMERS,” he scoffs, heaving the oversized book shut. “They have patrons. Living on Pack Street this long you should know plenty about patronizing by now.”

 

“Real funny.” I manage to bite down on a snarkier comeback when I remember I'm here for a favor. “Well, as a patron, I was wondering if you could help me with something?”

 

Marty looks around and, not seeing any convenient excuse to ignore me, gives a non-committal wave of his paw. Close enough, I guess. “Charlie says you guys have some movies here?”

 

The stoat immediately rolls his eyes and leans backward. “I should've figured you wouldn't come to a library to actually READ something,” he huffs before thumbing behind himself. “Movies are in the back, under the counters. Limit one at a time, okay? Now is that all?”

 

“It's for a pack movie night. I thought maybe you'd-”

 

Marty suddenly lurches forward, eyes bulging with fresh outrage. I keep forgetting how springy the little guy is. “Woah, woah wait, a movie night? Why didn't anyone tell me?!”

 

I frown. “This is me telling you.”

 

“When is it?”

 

“Uh...” I scratch the back of my head idly. “I dunno... when do you get off work?”

 

Marty hesitates for a moment, giving me a sidelong glance. “If this is some kind of weird pass at me, I'm really not interested, grazer.”

 

“Hey man, ease off. This wasn't even my idea to start with. So far it's Charlie, Anneke, Wolter and me and I just figured I'd ask, us being packmates and all.” Not that I was expecting a whole lot of gratitude from the stoat, but he's really pushing my patience. If he doesn't want in that's fine by me.

 

He takes a few more moments to think it over, looking me up and down as he does so. Finally, he leans forward with something close to a serious expression. “You clear it with Al yet?”

 

I'm about to laugh -- what, like I'm supposed to check with Al every time I want to change the channel now? -- but Marty's tone makes me hesitate. I guess Wolter and Anneke are tying up the common space, if Al came through wanting to watch a game he might feel disrespected. It wasn't even my idea to do this out in the open in the first place but somehow I doubt he'd see things my way. “I was just on my way to do that now.”

 

“You'd better,” warns Marty, a little harsher than he needs to. He hops down from the counter and starts making his way toward the back of the library. “Leave the selection to me. You go check with Al and -- if he's okay with it -- I'll be over as soon as we lock up here.”

 

Good enough, I suppose, though I kinda wanted to actually pick what I'd be watching tonight. “You sure you don't need help choosing some flicks?”

 

“Better to let someone with taste handle this one,” he calls back. “Make nice with the alpha.”

 

That's about as good as I'm getting, but he's probably right about Al. Things are actually going pretty well between us right now, and I'd like to keep things that way -- and hey, if he squashes the whole thing, I can go back to my original plan of watching movies in bed, without all this bother from everyone else. That thought picks me up a bit. Feels like a no-lose proposition.

 

***Part Four: Executive Meddling

 

I wander back to the apartment, which sounds like a hive of activity from just outside. Sure enough when I step into the lobby, Charlie's gamely directing Anneke and Wolter around as they try to hang the collapsible screen somewhere stable. They really should've moved the TV away before starting, as-is every step one of the twins takes away from it brings the other dangerously close to knocking it on the floor.

 

“You're back,” Charlie remarks, while gesturing the twins over a few inches to their left.

 

“Marty says he'll bring some movies, but first I gotta clear this thing with Al.”

 

Charlie hesitates for just a moment, almost causing Anneke to topple over as she tries to balance the weight of the screen while standing on one leg. “You didn't already? Unexpectedly reckless.”

 

I open my mouth to protest but I'm cut off by Wolter. “Yeah, man, we figured you'd already talked to Al about all this. Talk about entitled.”

 

“It was you two who wanted me to run a 'movie night' in the first place!” I snap, but I can already tell from Anneke's giggling that they're just messing with me. Of course, if Al comes down on us for making assumptions out of turn, I somehow doubt the twins are gonna be in a hurry to come clean. I brush them off and head for the stairs.

 

By the time I start closing on Al's door, I'm a little nervous. Not a lot, nothing like the time I had to clear things up after our big blow-up -- and I'm thankful for that, believe me. Still, things are going pretty good for me right now, this isn't a great time to rock the boat with some half-cocked idea. Do Omegas get to propose social events? There's probably some ancient wolf custom I'm completely tripping over here.

 

I tamp down those feelings and give Al's door a quick knock. Unlike with Charlie I can clearly hear him on the other side lurching to his feet and stepping heavily over to the door. When it opens to reveal Al's bored, disinterested expression I scrape up the friendliest smile I can in reply. “Something up?” he mutters, stifling a yawn.

 

“M-movie night?” I manage, before clearing my throat and starting over. “That is, uh, some of the others were talking about having a movie night downstairs. We've got a projector and Marty's picking out a few films and since it's kind of a shared space I thought we should check if,” I realize I'm rambling and look away for a moment. “Well, you get the idea.”

 

Al sort of squints at me with mild curiosity, one huge paw coming up to scratch his neck as he chews the idea over. “Movie night, huh?” he murmurs, his eyes looking past me a ways. “Yeah, yeah that could work.”

 

Not totally sure what to say, I try “Could it?”

 

Al seems to snap back to the present and lean up to his full height, stretching his back and neck. “Good timing, sheep. Velvet's coming by tonight and I was tryin' to come up with something to do.” He pauses, reconsidering. “Ah, just that I'm not feeling up for something big tonight, but... yeah, a movie night sounds good. Said you have a projector?”

 

“Borrowed from work,” I explain, adding hastily “I need to bring it back in one piece next week, but for tonight-”

 

“Great!” booms Al. He's clearly settling on the idea now. “Then let's make it an official pack event. Spread the word to anybody who hasn't heard yet and we can have this thing ready to go by the time Velvet gets here.”

 

Well, I guess that's the alpha's blessing. Even if it came with more legwork attached. “Sure thing, Al. I'll go take care of that.”

 

He nods and turns on his heel, maybe hoping to grab a quick wash before his fiance arrives. I'm just about to leave too before Al pauses and turns back around. “Hey Cormo, one more thing.”

 

Something in his tone makes me hesitate just a moment. Not exactly edge, but...

 

“It's not every night me and Velvet have time off together.” He gives me a knowing look. “Don't blow this one, okay?” I return him a quick, affirmative nod and Al smiles. Even when he means it nicely, that's a lot of teeth. “Great. Thanks, grazer.”

 

So that's Al down, but now he wants me to check in with the whole pack. I've already got Anneke, Wolter and Charlie (who hopefully haven't managed to destroy the projector yet), with Marty on the way. That leaves Avo, Betty and Ozzy.

 

The first two are easy enough, since they should be at work right now. I deliberately ignore the controlled chaos of the lobby as I make for the front door, trying to come up with a way to find Ozzy. If he's not in his room he could really be anywhere in the-

 

“Hey hey, Wooly B!”

 

Or he could be right here.

 

I've only just set hoof outside the building before almost walking face-first into Ozzy, who takes a step back to give me some room. His guitar swings up to fill the gap and he gives an experimental strum. “Fancy seeing you here,” he jokes, with another of his trademark laughs.

 

“What, the apartment where we both live?” I ask, but that only ups the tempo of the laughter. Let's cut to the chase. “Anyway, I'm spreading the word: movie night tonight, downstairs. Pack-wide invitation.”

 

“Cool,” nods Ozzy, stowing the guitar. He catches the door as I step into the street, slipping past me into the doorway. “What're we watching?”

 

“No idea,” I admit. “Marty's picking it up from the library.”

 

Ozzy's face scrunches up for a moment as he considers the sort of movies Marty might subject us to, but it comes unstuck pretty quickly. “Well, if you're all gonna be hanging out to watch this thing, that sounds good enough to me, man. I'm down. Better go grab me a seat now!”

 

He disappears inside and I can already hear the laughter starting back up at whatever installation madness is going on. I once again make the dubious decision to put my trust in Anneke, Wolter and Charlie to get the job done and turn down the street, headed for Pandora's Box and the locksmith's Betty works at.

 

***Part Five: Star Attractions

 

It's not long before I spy both businesses, and conveniently enough Betty and Avo themselves loitering outside. The fresh cigarette Betty's lighting tells me this must be a smoke break on what's probably a particularly slow night. Slow enough that as I approach the two of them begin to smile, clearly sensing some entertainment potential ahead.

 

“Well well,” Avo begins, crossing her arms while holding a fresh sucker. “The Box's best customer returns. What'll it be this time, Casanova?”

 

“Actually I'm here for you two, today,” I start, but before I can explain the two of them exchange faux surprised looks and I can already tell this conversation's getting derailed.

 

“Such a bold claim!” exclaims Avo, holding one paw to her face in mock shock. “Two at once is a whole lot of pred for just one little sheep.”

 

“I don't think yarn ball's up to the job,” adds Betty. She nudges Avo and points in through the shop window. “Why don't we start Mr. three-quarter-footlong over here with something from the bargain bin?”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” I try to shrug them off, for all the good it does. “Get it out of your system. I'm just here to let you two know we've got a pack movie night tonight. It's in the lobby.”

 

Betty takes a quick drag on her fresh cig before looking me over. “Al clear this already?” I nod, trying not to be annoyed that's her first question. “In that case... yeah, I guess I could swing by. Not like I had plans.”

 

“Well, I happen to be in high demand,” sniffs Avo, tilting her nose skyward and pressing her free paw to her chest. “A mammal like me's got a lot of options on a Friday, so you'd better make a case for wasting it sitting around-”

 

“Nah, Charlie already did the whole busy schedule bit.” No point in jumping through the same hoops twice, I figure, although Avo's irritable look is pretty new. “The offer's one movie night with the rest of the pack, take it or leave it.”

 

She makes an annoyed click with her tongue when it's clear I'm not interested in playing along. “Fine. In that case I'm in too,” she mutters. “We've both go to lock up here first, though, so save me a seat.”

 

“Save two,” rumbles Betty. “I'm not sitting on the floor.”

 

I do a quick count in my head of the spare chairs scattered around the building and wince. Somehow, I've got a premonition of who's going to end up sitting on the floor. “Well, Al wants to start as soon as Velvet gets there.”

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Betty waves a dismissive paw in my direction as the two of them meander back to work. “We said we'll be there, Omega. Go put the popcorn on.”

 

“Bleh, no thanks.” Avo grimaces at the thought. “That shit always gets stuck in my teeth.”

 

Having settled up with those two, I think that means everything's in motion, Nothing left to do but make sure Charlie and the twins haven't managed to smash my borrowed entertainment, so I head for home.

 

The noise has settled down as I get near, which is probably a good sign. Sure enough, when I open the front door the lobby's been transformed. I'm actually taken aback for a moment -- not only have they got the screen, projector and speakers set up, the twins have rigged up some strings of holiday lights for that soft mood lighting and laid out the popcorn and soda on the rickety spare table. All the extra seating they could scrounge has been set into rough theater rows around the couch.

 

“Impressed?” asks a beaming Anneke.

 

“He's impressed.” Wolter answers. The two of them adjust their lounging postures on the sofa where Charlie's wrapped up tight in her familiar, all-wool blanket.

 

“You guys did good,” I have to admit it. “Shouldn't be long now, sounds like the whole pack's on their way over.”

 

“Just enough time for you to get changed,” purrs Anneke, who looks me up and down with a little more than an academic interest. “Come on, Rem, it's slumber party rules tonight. Drop those work duds and show us those bed-time briefs.”

 

I look down and realize she's right -- with all this running around, I haven't had time to change out of my work clothes. “Okay, okay, but it's not gonna be 'bed-time briefs', got it?”

 

“Cormo more typically wears boxers to bed,” Charlie ever-so-helpfully adds. Wolter suppresses a laugh while Anneke passes a brief dirty look between us, and I decide to make my exit.

 

***Part Six: Blockbusters

 

When I come back down a couple minutes later, I've washed off the warehouse stink and traded my work clothes for a loose undershirt and pajama pants. I feel like a kid staying over with school friends again, which I guess is the idea. Marty's just turned up wheeling an oversized cart crammed with movies through the front door, wheezing from the strain. “A little help?” he gasps, and noting that the couch crew's in no hurry I wander over.

 

I lift the library cart over the lip of the doorway and it rolls the rest of the way forward toward the projector, letting Marty stumble after it in obvious exhaustion. “You didn't need to bring the whole bin.”

 

Marty just glares. “I think you mean THANK YOU for bringing the whole bin, grazer. Now the rest of you can actually have some input, bad idea as that might be.” He glances around the room at Charlie and the twins' handiwork and doesn't immediately disapprove. “So I guess Al's good with all this.”

 

“Enthusiastic, even.” I start rummaging through the cart's contents. Quite a few films, if mostly older stuff. I guess that's normal for a library. “Turns out it's date night with Velvet.”

 

Marty's eyebrows pop up just a little at that. “Then I guess it was worth bringing the whole box after all. Be sure to pick something good, Remmy.” With that, Marty zipped away to stake out a spot on one of the more plush arm rests.

 

I look up from the box with a furrowed brow. “Wait, why me?” And after all that crowing about taste, too.

 

“Movie night was YOUR idea, Rem,” adds Anneke with another cheeky grin.

 

Charlie leans into view. “Also, that way you will take the blame if bad movie choices spoil Al's date.”

 

Of course. I try to keep from scowling while picking through our options. “Okay then... how about 'Zootopian Pie'?”

 

“Oh, I loved that one!” Ozzy's just squeezed through the door, carrying a beat-up folding chair he scrounged up from somewhere. His 'pajamas' are just the sweats he wears when we play basketball. “Musta watched it ten times back in the day!”

 

“Not surprising,” mutters Marty. “We're not a bunch of horny teenagers, though. Pass.”

 

“Maybe 'Pride and Predation'?”

 

“Izzat the one with the corsets and bonnets?” asks Wolter. “Think I saw the parody of it once.”

 

“Pass.” This time it's Avo, following closely behind Ozzy. She's carrying a box of lollipops that I'm guessing she probably won't share. “Believe me, the original version is way too dry without the stately villa orgy.” She takes a moment to look around approvingly at the setup. “I like the college dorm look.”

 

“Heyyyy, Avo” calls Wolter from the couch, waving the popcorn bowl over his head. “Come grab a seat. We bought snacks!”

 

“Double-pass. That stuff messes up your teeth.” She flicks out a depleted stick from her mouth and replaces it with a fresh one from the box. “I'm going to get changed, but pick something with a little action. Everybody likes a good kung fu flick.”

 

Marty gives a theatrical sigh but I ignore him and dig deeper into the disc pile. Sure enough, here's one with a shirtless tiger karate chopping a bear mobster. “Hard Ticket to Tundratown?”

 

“Ooooh, the one with 'Action Masterson', the Tai Chi Tiger?” Anneke's eyes light up. “He loses his shirt basically every scene.”

 

“Predsploitation trash,” mutters Marty. “Pass.”

 

“You already passed,” Anneke snaps back. “I vote keep. Al loves this kinda stuff anyway.”

 

“It's still relatively early,” offers Charlie. “We could watch more than one film That might be the best compromise to accommodate a wide variety of tastes.”

 

Ozzy's settled into his battered chair with two plastic cups, one full of popcorn and the other soda. “No place I need to be tonight. Bring on the movies, WB!”

 

I've basically given up on getting the projector to myself, so I might as well start putting some effort into these movie choices. “That's one action flick,” I confirm, setting aside Hard Ticket over Marty's protests. “What else should I be looking for?”

 

Marty hisses in annoyance. He'd have an easier time back-seat driving the movie selection if he'd get off his ass. “I know there's a few horror classics in there. At least pick something with a little tension.”

 

Sure enough, a little more rummaging and under a beat-up copy of Hook I come up with a box featuring a terrified kangaroo cowering from a knife dropping from above. “The Koala Killer?”

 

“A foreign sleeper hit,” remarks Charlie with an air of approval. “The marsupial market is one of the few keeping the classic slasher formula alive.”

 

Marty doesn't contest the point, so I take it he agrees. “That's two down. What's our third?”

 

“Romance.”

 

All eyes snap to the front door, where Betty's standing dressed in a matching set of felt pajamas. Not really what I expected, on either count. “Uh, what?”

 

“It's Al's date night with Velvet, right? End on something mushy,” she explains. Betty sidles over the couch and almost sits on Wolter and Anneke, who get squeezed to the neighbouring easychair. “Thanks for saving my seat, yarn ball.”

 

I just shrug and go back to digging around while the aardwolves pull faces behind Betty's back. “Okay, we've got... how about, uh, Badger Jones's Diary?”

 

I hear Marty groan and Ozzy laughs while making goo-goo eyes and trying to flutter his eyelashes, but Betty nods. “Yeah, that should do. Badger Jones is a classic.”

 

“Stretching the definition of 'classic' to the limit,” mutters Marty, but Betty gives a low growl and he shuts up.

 

“Man, EVERY pred girl watches Badger Jones's Diary,” declares Wolter, who gets a playful bat from Anneke. “I'm actually kinda surprised if you haven't, dude. It's kind of up your alley.”

 

“No spoilers, Wolt.” Betty has just a slight grin as she turns back to me. “Everything else ready?”

 

“Just waiting on the others and we're good to go.” I gather up our three choices and head over to the projector. The thing's got a disc reader built-in, should be simple enough.

 

“Already waiting on you,” announces Avo from somewhere behind me. I look up and spot her loitering near the back, having changed into a nice if well-worn bathrobe and pair of fuzzy slippers. I have to bite my tongue to keep my expression neutral, but she doesn't seem to notice. “Well, and Al and Velvet. Any word on those two?”

 

She doesn't have to wait for a response as the heavy sound of Al's paws on the stairs announce his arrival. “Not half bad, grazer,” Al murmurs as he comes down, taking in the setup. “Nice touch with the lights.”

 

“WE put up the lights, actually,” Anneke interjects, but Al 's not listening. He's already making for the front door, and with impressive timing opens it just before Velvet can knock.

 

She's surprised for just a moment, looking around at all of us dressed in pajamas in the dim lighting like a school full of kids at a lock-in. She immediately gives a little giggle and steps inside, resting a hoof on Al's shoulder. “My, I didn't expect you to go through all this trouble.”

 

“No trouble at all,” says Al magnanimously, giving the rest of us a knowing look. I decide it's better to let the big guy have this one, it's easy brownie points and technically the twins did most of the actual work. The two of them settle down in Al's big recliner, squeezed together just enough to be cozy. “Alright, Remmy, let's see what's on the schedule tonight.”

 

I fumble with the three discs for a moment before pulling out The Koala Killer, and manage to get it into the projector's disc tray. There's an awkward moment of fiddling with the worn-out control panel to get it to actually accept the disc, but thankfully the thing actually works. It only just occurs to me I never got to test the setup before the ball started rolling. I let out a small sigh of relief as the opening credits appear and finally start looking for somewhere to sit.

 

Yep, just like I expected. A full house. “Hey, down in front!” Wolter calls out jokingly as I briefly block the projector.

 

“Come on,” I grumble, looking over the darkened room. “Nobody brought a spare chair? Seriously?”

 

“Don't you do enough sitting at work?” asks Avo, conspicuously standing near the back. Guess she didn't need a seat after all. “Why not stretch your stubby little legs for once?”

 

I scowl and start eyeing spots on the floor before noticing Charlie's blanket cocoon loosening. “If you don't mind a certain amount of compression, there's space here between Betty and myself.”

 

“I could use another pillow,” Betty quips. She taps the spot between the two of them. “C'mon up, yarn ball.”

 

The gap looks uncomfortably tight, but the voiceover's already started on about the curse of Wallaby Pond so I swallow my pride and wedge inbetween the two of them. Charlie tries stretching her blanket over me, but brushing up against my own shorn wool kind of just creeps me out.

 

A koala with half his face burned off suddenly looms into view onscreen, prompting Betty to bite down hard enough on her cigarette to chomp it in half. Then again, maybe creepy fits the mood.

 

***Part Seven: Motivating Incident

 

We're about halfway through The Koala Killer and the tension's just starting to build. Or at least, it would be if Ozzy didn't have to keep stifling nervous laughter. The room's been pretty quiet so far but I notice a fair bit of fidgeting as the third clueless kangaroo coed of the night wanders aimlessly through the abandoned campground. A flash of lightning reveals the Koala for just a second, lurking in the background.

 

“Ohhh, there he is again!” Velvet cries out, burying her face in Al's shoulder. He rests a paw on his fiancee's head in a comforting gesture, but I'm pretty sure I can hear her giggling under there.

 

I can't really blame her. Slasher flicks like this are fun, but they're usually more goofy than scary. The special effects are kind of dated on this one, too -- they fucked up the lighting so you can still see the Koala's outline in the background as he scurries to his next spot.

 

The sound of popcorn munching in my ear reminds me the girl squashed into my own shoulder isn't that scared either. Maybe Charlie could sense my mood, adding “It may not have been a hit with critics or audiences of the day, but The Koala Killer was quite influential on marsupial horror.”

 

“You have to remember the context surrounding the film when it came out!” concurs Marty. The stoat rears up for better rant posture. “The big studios were moving toward thrillers and psychological horror for the prestige, so audiences looking for classical slashers moved to b-movies and foreign markets with tighter budget constraints. Just because modern audiences are too jaded to be frightened anymore doesn't mean it's not good horror.”

 

“Hah!”

 

It takes me a moment to realize the shrill bark of laughter didn't come from Ozzy. I glance upward at Betty, and notice the big black wolf's frozen grin. Her hackles are obviously up and I'm suddenly extremely aware of how a jump-scare could play out while this close to a tense predator.

 

There's an awkward moment of silence, only broken by the onscreen kangaroo warbling out a helpless “Is someone there?” I weigh my options carefully, like anybody might while squashed under a wolf's elbow.

 

“Hey, Betty, are you... uh, you doing okay?” Nailed it.

 

“W-what, you think I'm scared of a movie about a koala? Hah!” Her voice audibly cracks when she laughs, but she pretends not to notice while staring straight ahead. “You'd have to be some kinda-”

 

Betty's cut off by the koala's strike, which also cuts off the head of the latest kangaroo, which goes sailing through the air on a jet of artifical blood. The big black wolf immediately shrieks and fumbles for a pillow to cover her face.

 

Unfortunately, she misses the pillow, and grabs a big fistful of my wool.

 

One moment I'm jammed into the couch cushions, the next I'm hurtling through the air only to have the air knocked out of me by the wolf's hard head. I hang there suspended upside-down for just a moment, gasping and bleating while the eyes of the room swivel toward us and Betty slowly processes what's she's done.

 

Without warning she drops me head-first on the ground. I land in a dazed sprawl as Betty almost yells “I was shielding his eyes!”

 

“With your stomach?” Wolter innocently wonders, as Ozzy finally cracks up behind him. The koala killer's delivering a monologue on murder to the camera but everyone's too busy chuckling at Betty and me to notice, the tension draining instantly. Marty rasps with annoyance as he tries to hear the film over the din.

 

Betty snaps her jaws, half a cigarette butt dropping on me from above. “You all about done?” She gives the room a once over that quiets things down. I fumble to right myself, only to feel a new invasion of my personal space as one of the aardwolves wraps themselves around me.

 

“Don't worry,” coos Anneke. “I'll protect the little lamb from the big, scary koala.” I look up to my previous spot on the couch and see that it's already been taken by Wolter, who tries to slide under the blanket with Charlie only for her to abruptly tug the wool back around herself. Undeterred, he simply gets cozy between the two ladies and looks down on me with a wink.

 

I sigh and give up on resisting for the moment. Anneke's already practically nesting in my wool, making a comfortable spot to sit while watching the koala killer infiltrate the counsellor's cabin. The slasher gets into position behind a sloth watching TV alone, sprawled out on a big couch. Despite his imminent murder, I find I envy the guy.

 

***Part Eight: Rising Action

 

It's been at least an hour or two, and now Action Masterson, or Tiger Rex as he's called in this movie, is tearing his way through an army of armed bears in a Tundratown dockyard. I can't help but think of the Rex from Bug Burga every time they say his name, and trying to imagine that little badger on a roaring rampage of revenge does give me a smile.

 

What's less funny is having Anneke gawping at the half-dressed hero while squatting on my back. She's uncomfortably warm up there, except for the part where she spilled some soda in my wool, and I don't want to say anything just yet but every time T-Rex gets his shirt torn off she readjusts her sitting position a little. Real subtle.

 

Al and Avo, meanwhile, are kicking up a storm. Every time T-Rex gets in a one-liner or blows some criminal away they start hooting and hollering. Al's enthusiasm seems to amuse Velvet more than the movie, she spends just as much time watching his dopey grin as she does the action. Avo, meanwhile, keeps imitating the moves every time T-Rex throws someone through a window. I'm pretty sure this is a repeat viewing for her.

 

“So, is this what you guys thought preds were like back in the suburbs?” asks Anneke, leaning down to bring herself eye to eye. “Just a bunch of rough, tough, muscular brawlers? Taking no shit from anybody?”

 

“It's classic predator stereotyping dressed up as empowerment,” Marty grumbles. He's had his arms crossed basically the whole movie.

 

“Shut up, Marty,” snaps Avo, punching the air a few more times for effect. “Masterson is hard as hell, does the right thing and beats up thugs left and right with his bare paws. When I was a teenager I had his poster in my room.”

 

“He's a role model,” agrees Al. “You think T-Rex lets some grazers tell him what to do all day?” Al suddenly freezes, realizing he might've gone too far. He looks over to Velvet and pleadingly adds “Uh, no offence.” She just shrugs it off.

 

Once again, I'm reminded of the relaxed badger of Bug Burga, and at least one grazer who tells him what to do every visit. Marty's not finished, though. “That's what I'm talking about! The predsploitation genre sells itself as positive, powerful portrayals of predator protagonists, but only in roles that are socially familiar and acceptable to society at large. A pred can be a hero by being violent and stubborn, but-”

 

Ozzy starts theatrically snoring, which gets the room cracking up again, backed up by the sound of T-Rex leaping from an exploding car. Marty seethes and curls up into a ball on his arm rest, ignoring the rest of us. As the laughter dies down, I remember Anneke's original question and decide to take a swing at it. “They didn't actually play a lot of this stuff at the theater back home.”

 

Betty snorts.“Figured as much.”

 

“There was a little second-run movie place behind the main street though that'd do b-movies from time to time. I think I might've seen a Masterson there, but it was mostly cheesy old sci-fi like Plan Nine from Otter Space.”

 

“Hey, I remember that one!” Ozzy perks up, before reaching down to pluck me from the ground, sending a surprised Anneke tumbling. “The one where the aliens bring back a whole bunch of ghouls, right?”

 

I blink with surprise a few times. I can't remember the last time I've met someone who'd actually seen that old clunker. “Yeah, that's the one.”

 

“Man, there used to be this old movie bargain bin in the gas station near where I grew up.” Ozzy looks off in fond recollection. “Just a dollar each, so I'd always grab some weird movie nobody'd heard of just to check it out. You ever see Boarbarella?”

 

A fuzzy memory suddenly comes in clear of a pig stripping in zero gravity. “Oh shit, yeah, I think I do!”

 

“Crazy, man,” Ozzy beams. “We've gotta compare notes some time.”

 

“How about later, huh?” asks Avo with barely contained annoyance. “You're talking over all the -- oh shit!”

 

T-Rex's just leapt slow-motion through the skylight in the drug kingpin's lair and unloads both his automatics as he falls, sending crooked prey government agents flying as more low-budget fake blood splatters across the walls. Al's so pumped up he jumps to his feet and Avo lunges forward past me and Ozzy. Caught up in the moment, Ozzy jumps up with them, accidentally tossing me up in the air.

 

This time Betty reaches over to catch me with one paw, but manages to kick the popcorn bowl, sending snacks flying in every direction. Anneke and Wolter leap into action trying to save their food, which only manages to knock one of the soda bottles over and Charlie bails over the back of the couch. Al's fist-pumping as Avo kicks and jumps in time with the hero, staggering imaginary buffalo.

 

I watch the bottle of soda spiral through the air toward the projector and time seems to slow down like I'm suddenly the star of my own Action Masterson flick. If I don't do something quick, I'm going to be returning a shorted-out box of soda-scented junk to my boss on Monday. Betty's still gripping me by the wool, but I manage to wriggle free and land awkwardly on my knees.

 

I realize at this point there's no way to catch the bottle before the fateful impact, but from where I'm kneeling I might have one option. Without thinking it through too hard I launch myself head-first through the air, intercepting the soda mid-flight and tumbling with it up and over the projector. Home free.

 

Only to land with a resounding crash at the back of the room, the soda bottle splitting and covering me with foul-smelling cola. Ozzy, not sure what's going on anymore, settles for a nice, hearty laugh. Charlie dutifully retrieves the paper towel roll from under the couch. Anneke and Wolter have started throwing the popcorn at each other for some reason and Marty's just yelling at the top of his lungs about brain-rotting b-movies.

 

“Say goodnight, Gracie,” quips T-Rex and Avo at the same time.

 

I don't even know who Gracie is.

 

***Part Nine: See You In The Movies

 

It's getting real late now, which in the topsy-turvy world of nocturnal preds means there's sunlight creeping in through the blinds. We've only got one movie left, Badger Jones's Diary, and after a slow start (and a time-out to mop up spilled soda and popcorn) it's finally warming up.

 

Personally, I'll settle for drying out. We got the soda off the floor but getting it out of wool is another problem entirely. At least the break gave me a chance to grab a chair from my room, because nobody's all that keen on sitting next to me anymore now that I've got bits of paper towel stuck all over my body.

 

The movie stars a bashful badger who's suddenly found herself juggling four possible prey suitors, and from the way Velvet and Al are snuggled up and snoring it's already had the desired effect. Ozzy and Marty are out too, but Wolter and the girls are gamely holding on despite the fact that I'm sure they've all seen this thing more than once.

 

I admit I'm getting a little drowsy myself at this point, I didn't figure on a six-hour marathon when the night started. I suddenly look up at the screen where Jones is scribbling her angst woefully into her diary and realize I must've faded out at some point because I can hardly remember what's going on.

 

“What's the problem again?” I mumble to the room. “Too many boyfriends, or something?”

 

“Welcome back, cotton swab,” teases Avo with a smile. “You really ought to pay attention to this one, you might learn something.”

 

I try to focus on the screen, where the four suitors flash by in what I'm guessing is some kind of extended dream sequence. A reindeer, a rabbit, a ram and a squirrel pose dramatically in silhouette. “So she can't pick which of these guys to date? Is that it?”

 

“A little more complicated than that, grazer,” insists Avo with a hint of reproach.

 

“Best boy is obviously Andy,” Anneke slaps both paws down for emphasis. “That squirrel is cute, forward, friendly -- and he OBVIOUSLY knows what he's doing in bed.” The squirrel in question bursts through his silhouette and immediately fills the screen with his antics, jumping around and trying to pump up an invisible audience. His pink polo shirt and backward baseball cap help me draw a bead on the guy pretty fast.

 

“Of course you go for the little horndog,” mutters Betty, who rolls her eyes. “Andy couldn't keep his tiny dick in his pants for two minutes, Jones is just another conquest to him.”

 

Anneke puffs out her cheeks in frustration. “Well then who's YOUR favorite, huh?”

 

“I don't have a favorite,” Betty brusquely replies before sitting up on the couch. “I'm not into the whole love triangle thing they've got going on.”

 

Anneke jeers and Avo, from her smug grinning, backs her up. “Bull. Shit. The triangle's like half the movie!”

 

“There's a total of five people involved, it isn't a triangle.” Charlie's contribution goes unnoticed as Anneke gives Betty an appraising look.

 

“It's Barry the ram, isn't it?” When Betty doesn't respond, Anneke presses. “I knew it! A bad-boy black sheep herd exile. Watch out Remmy,” she adds with a wink in my direction. “That's Betty's type.”

 

Betty's lip curls back just enough to remind everyone she has the biggest fangs of anyone currently awake and Anneke immediately eases off. “Barry's fine. And don't read anything into that.” She glances in my direction. “He's got horns, for starters.”

 

I give the ram a good look over and have to keep from laughing. This is definitely someone's idea of a 'tough sheep' who's never met one. This guy's absurdly grizzled, with a scar over his eye, a bent horn and “Born To Graze Hell” on the back of his leather riding jacket. His wool's so dark he must be dying it, but sure, I bet deep down he's got a heart of gold. Still, I figure I should tread carefully on this one. “He seems... intense. Which, y'know... that can be good.”

 

Betty just snorts. Avo sidles up from behind to stand next to her. “If it's horns you're into, you should be rooting for Argo.” On cue, the reindeer slouches into view onscreen, raising a playful eyebrow as his old varsity jacket falls open. “Charming, witty, tough but not actively mean like Barry, what's not to like? Besides, you know what they say about a buck with big antlers.”

 

Anneke waves dismissively. “Barry's flat.”

 

“He's a showboat,” Betty concurs, to Avo's annoyance. “All flash, no substance.”

 

Still, even I have to admit he's handsome. Jones is shivering and blushing while the languid reindeer unfolds around her, giving an easy smile as he does it. “Well, sometimes when you look that good, people give you a pass on substance. Maybe she just needs to get to know him first?”

 

“Personally, my choice would be the rabbit, Casey,” muses Charlie. The rabbit appears next, mostly hidden by a large book. “He may be... unconventional, but his interest appears sincere and he frequently interacts positively with the protagonist. I think he has a strong case.”

 

“I think he has tail extensions.” Anneke throws a handful of popcorn in the air and catches maybe half of it in her mouth. “And aspergers.”

 

Charlie stares daggers at Anneke before Avo cuts in. “It's also kinda messed up he gets a solo scene and none of the other guys do,” The girls turn puzzled looks on her but she stands her ground. “I'm just saying. Sorta tips their hand.”

 

“So he's a little weird and shy about his appearance.” I shrug. “Can't hold that against a guy. I mean, glass houses and throwing stones, right? Who isn't a little weird?” I watch as the rabbit proceeds to introduce Jones to an elaborate conspiracy corkboard he's working on in his garage. “Or, uh... very weird?”

 

Charlie takes my answer a little too seriously for a moment before quietly replying “Good to know.”

 

“Man, all these guys and just one badger.” I give my chin a scratch while weighing up Jones's situation. Doesn't seem fair, does it? Hell, it doesn't even make a lot of sense. “What's her appeal, anyway? Is she just the only single girl these guys know?”

 

Wolter shakes his head. “Dude, I'm telling you, chick flick heroes are just plain Jane everygirls for the audience to live through.” He doesn't get much further than that before being bombarded by popcorn. “It's true! She's not even that-” whatever he was going to say next was drowned out as Anneke upturns the bowl on his head.

 

“Jones is a precious angel and must be protected,” Anneke sniffs.

 

“Well, Omega,” asks Avo, leaning in just a little too close. “You've heard the options. Who do you think Jones should bag?”

 

I think about it for a long minute as attention drifts back to the screen, where Jones has started singing, an intentionally off-key warbling song about some daily challenge that's got her down.

 

“Maybe she should just date all of 'em?”

 

Popcorn rains down on me from every quarter. That answer didn't go over so well, but I chuckle anyway. Not like it matters. “Okay, okay. So who DOES she end up with?”

 

“Why don't you just shut up and watch the movie?” grunts Betty, resting her head on her paw. I turn back to the action like she suggests, but already I can feel my eyelids starting to droop.

 

“Oooh, here comes Andy's sister!” Wolter shifts in his seat. “Dude, now she's hot.”

 

“Not one of the options, though,” adds Anneke. “Well not unless you ask the internet.”

 

I was about to try and puzzle that one out, but all of a sudden I lose the battle against my drowsiness. The last thing I see is Jones ordering a salad at some kind of prey drive-thru place.

 

***Part Ten: Roll Credits

 

I wake with a start, and from the light pouring in from the open window I can tell movie night is finally finished. Surveying the damage, it's a relief to see the speaker, projector and screen all look intact. “At least my boss isn't going to kill me,” I mutter to no one in particular.

 

The same can't be said for the room. Soda stains, popcorn piles, discarded chairs and a few snoring survivors are all scattered around. Anneke and Wolter are sleeping in a pile, as usual, and Ozzy's found a spot on the floor that suits his needs.

 

I struggle to my hooves and almost bleat in panic as a layer of wool rolls off. I realize it's just Charlie's blanket, must've been tucked in at some point after I fell asleep. Somehow still pristine despite the mess, I carefully fold it up and make a mental note to return it later.

 

“Everything you dreamed of?” How does she keep creeping up on me like that? Must be a jackal thing. Sure enough, I turn in time to see Avo coming down the stairs dressed for work.

 

“I thought you said you had the weekend off?”

 

“I said I had options on a Friday,” she replies airily. “Those options usually boil down to 'go to sleep so I can get up for work on Saturday.'”

 

I give her a good, stilted laugh while picking through the debris. I really don't envy whoever has to clean this place up. “You missed the ending,” she chides, “and after all the time we spent hyping it up too.”

 

“Eh, always next time.” Against all odds, I find the popcorn bowl hidden under a couch cushion, with just a hooffull left at the bottom. I'm about to scoop it up when Avo beats me to the punch, downing the last of the snacks not stuck to my wool in one bite. I frown just a little. “Changed your mind on the popcorn, huh?”

 

“No time for breakfast,” she answers, before hacking up a cough. “Ugh, too dry. AND stuck in my teeth.”

 

Suppose I should count myself lucky I don't have work to worry about today. I was sure I had plans for the weekend before all this kicked off, but now the chaos is over and I've got a minute to myself again I can't seem to remember what they were. Avo knocks back a half-empty cup of flat soda to clear her throat before plucking a broom out of a junk pile in the back corner of the room. She pauses when she looks back in my direction. “Something wrong, grazer?”

 

“Nah, not... well, I mean -- it's just that,” I glance back and see Avo gesturing for me to hurry up. “Well, when Al invited me into the pack, I figured it was just... sort of like, 'hey, welcome to the neighbourhood, maybe we can all try getting along for a change.'”

 

“Is that supposed to be your Al impression?”

 

“Yeah, shut up. But I didn't figure it was going to be some kind of twenty-four-seven social arrangement, you know? I was just trying to watch a couple movies, does being an Omega mean I've got to turn everything into an open invitation? Where's the me-time?”

 

Avo rolls her eyes hard enough her whole head almost goes with it. “Always thinking about the big picture, huh? Well, here's a little advice from a former Omega on how to handle your new social obligations.” she leans in conspiratorially. Maybe she's about to share some kind of pack secret? I crane my head upward, curious for what she has to say.

 

“Quit being such a stuffy, uptight prick all the time, and maybe learn to live a little? You're one of us now, wool-boy. Get used to it.”

 

She lifts the broom up between us and drops it in my hooves, before skipping for the door. “Have fun cleaning up, Remmy!”

 

I watch her go, shaking my head. Of course. Now I CAN see the rest of my day stretching off ahead of me, full of scrubbing and brushing. Finding a way to unstick Ozzy from the floor. Probably shearing off a whole layer of wool coated in grime. I feel something come loose from my forehead and reach up to pluck off half of one of Betty's cigarettes, not remembering how it got there.

 

At least I've still got the theater system another night. Maybe I'll try watching the end of that Jones movie, I've got a pretty good hunch how it ends.