Moonlight and Mayhem
A Very Odd Romance
© 2010 by Walter Reimer

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Nine

Manzoni’s was a popular restaurant, and by the time Max ushered Sam into the place the lunch crowd was only just starting to thin out.  “Hey, Maxie!” the proprietor caroled as soon as he caught sight of the fox.  The tall, portly hound waved the couple to seats and offered menus.  “Whaddaya want today?”
“Mario, I want only your best for me and my lady friend here,” Max said, grinning at Sam.  He looked at the menu and said, “How’s the ravioli?”
“Perfect, as usual.  Tony made the pasta.”
“Wow.  Sam, you have got to try Tony’s pasta.”
“Hmm.  Okay, I’ll have that – and a beer.  You sell Naval Issue?”
“No, signorina, but we do have Red Lance on tap.”
“That sounds good.”  Sam sat back and looked around as Max ordered cannelloni and a glass of chianti.  “Nice place.”
“Prices are reasonable, too,” Max said as he munched on a crunchy breadstick, sending crumbs everywhere.  “Best thing about it,” he said with his mouth full, “is Mario.”
“Really.”
Max nodded and swallowed.  “He sings sometimes.  Great baritone voice.”
“Nice.”  Sam looked down.  “Max.”
“Yes, Sam?”
“You’re holding my paw.”
“So I am, Sam.”
“Now, don’t get me wrong – it’s quite romantic, lover boy – but I need that paw.”
“Oh?  Why?”
“Mario’s coming back with our drinks, and I’m right-pawed as you know.”
“Then I shall hold your left paw, Sam.”
“Give me a kiss first, Max.”
The two were kissing as Mario put their drinks down.  The hound smiled.  “Che bella,” he said in a pleased tone.  “Max, you and this wonderful lady are - ?” he pantomimed putting a ring on his finger.
Sam gave an enigmatic smile as Max said, “I’m trying to convince her to say Yes, Mario.”
“Ah.  How is he doing, my dear?”
Sam looked speculatively at Max.  “Hmm.  He’s been doing all right so far.  On balance.”
        
***

August 22, 1935:
“What?” Sam asked.  She and Max had returned to duty a day after relinquishing Morpion to the police, and were working on the base – Sam in Operations, Max as an instructor in one of the machine schools -  while waiting for the Orca to return to Seathl.  
“I said, have you heard the news?” Max asked.  His brush was bottled out and snapped back and forth like a samurai’s back-banner.  “This morning’s paper?”
“I tried, Max, but you always hog the funnies.  What’s going on?”
“Morpion got found not guilty,” the vulpine growled.
That made the badger sit up and take notice.  “How?” she asked as Max passed her a newspaper.
“I’ll tell you how,” Max said as she started reading the article.  “He gets a good lawyer – no doubt paid for by his friends – and starts squalling about we didn’t have the right to arrest him since we weren’t police officers.”
“Citizen’s arrest – “
“The judge didn’t see it that way.”  Max settled into a chair and seethed as Sam read the article, which agreed with his account.
“Says here that as soon as he was released he left Seathl.”
“Yeah, by train.  Doubtless headed to America.  Those Yanks will let anyone in.”
“Except Chinese, Max.”
“You got a point, Sam.  Those Yanks will let almost anyone in.”
“True.  So Louie the Louse won’t be enjoying the People’s hospitality anytime soon,” the badgeress said as she folded the paper and laid it aside.  She sipped at her coffee, then reopened the paper and started reading the sports section.  
“We went to all that trouble for nothing, Sam.”
“True enough, Max.”
“Risking life and limb – “
“And you’re already short enough, Max.”
“And for what?  Nothing.”  The fox snorted in disgust and stood up.
“Where are you going, Max?”
“Well, I’m off until tomorrow, so I figured I’d go to The Hanged Man for a drink.  Come with me?”
“Max, it’s only seven o’clock in the morning.  The barkeep’s probably asleep.”  The fox slumped back in his chair, still seething.  “Max.”
“Yeah, Sam?”
“Don’t slouch.  It makes you look shorter.  Now, what’s got your tail kinked?”
“Louie.”
“And?”
“I wanted him to go off to the Krop for a long time.  For Singapore.”
“Max.”
“Sam, you’ll understand when it’s all YOUR fur that gets removed.”
“I try to avoid that.”
“So do I, except when that creep threw that can of solvent at me.”
“Hmm.”
“What, Sam?”
“Just thinking.”
“About what?”
“About how I can cheer you up – that doesn’t require waking up everyone in the barracks.”
“Heh.  Yeah, you make a lot of noise, Sam.”  He chuckled at her sudden blush.  “You know, Sam, there IS something you might say to cheer me up.”
“Oh?”
“You could say Yes.”
Sam smiled and reached out, running a paw against the side of Max’s face.  “Max, you know I love you – “
“Yes?”
“But – well, I’m just not ready yet.  I haven’t made my decision, honeyfur.”
Max’s smile faltered and he sat back.  
“When was the first time you proposed?”
“December fourth.  Nineteen thirty-four.  It was a Tuesday.”  There was a pause and Max looked down.  “About seven at night.”
“’About?’”
“I was drunk – and you’d just finished breaking a table with me.”
“And how many times have you proposed since then?”
“Too many.”
Sam reached out again and gripped one of his ears.  Leaning close she whispered, “Keep at it.”
He blinked, then grinned at her as he realized what she was saying.  They kissed, and she drew back before his paws started something that would likely wake up the late sleepers in the barracks longhouse.  “Now, now,” she admonished.  “Naughty fox.”
“Naughty fox?  Naughtier badger,” he said, and kissed her again.  “I think I’ll wander down to the school and see if I can be useful.  The Hanged Man tonight?  After dinner?”
“Sounds nice.”
***
The sign hanging over the door of The Hanged Man bar portrayed a representation of the Tarot card, an unlucky bear hanging upside down by his ankles.  It got part of its name from being located in the town of East Seathl, site of the capital’s jail.  The bar had been founded by a retired jailer with a dark sense of humor.
“Hey, Sam!  Look at those old-style paw cuffs!” Max enthused as they sipped at their drinks.  One wall of the establishment was decorated with tools of the owner’s former trade.  Sam was drinking Mendenhall lager, while the fox was knocking back a very dark whiskey and water.  Max took another sip of his Cougar Whiskey and said, “That give you any ideas, my sweet?”
“Hmm.  Only to keep you under control, Max.”  She took another sip of her beer.  “What possessed you to do that at the machine shop?”
“What?”
“You know perfectly well what.  Putting aviation fuel in a Fjord sedan.”
“Sam, the Fjord Ursus is a fine family touring car, but the engine lacks oomph.  I only wanted to see if maybe changing the fuel would make the engine more efficient.”
“Oh, it was efficient, all right.  I think the engine was still running when they fished it out of the water.”
“It’s the Syndicate’s fault, Sam.”
“How so, Max my dear?”
“They shouldn’t have placed that lake in the way.  If it were a straight run, it would have gone all the way to Barnsfield.”
“And likely blown itself to bits.”
“Details, details,” the fox said, signaling for another drink.
“Max.”
“Sam?”
“Are you going to keep on drinking?”
“Only because I’m thirsty, Sam.”
“Am I going to have to pour you into a bucket to get you back to the barracks?”
“Just remember I have to be decanted gently, like fine port.”  Max drained the glass, then stood up, clasped his paws together in front of his chest and started to sing The Northern Lights Are in Your Eyes.
Several furs clapped, while one man shouted, “Shut that noise off!”
Max stopped singing instantly and peered across the room.  “Who said that?”
“Max,” Sam admonished, but her warning went unheeded.
“I did,” and the speaker turned out to be a cougar roughly six feet tall and built like a lumberjack.  “Were you singing or having an attack?  Should we call a doctor for you, Shorty?”
“And you think you can do better?” Max sneered, taking a couple steps toward the feline.  “Your voice sounds like my sister’s – and she can’t carry a tune in a bucket.”
“Your sister works for the Prostitute’s Union,” the cougar growled.
“I’ll have her give your regards to your mother then,” Max said.  “I think they work at the same house.”
“Max,” Sam said.
Max seemed to not hear her, as the cougar drew nearer and towered over the Catalina fox.  “What’d you say about my mother, Midget?”
Max drew himself to his full five feet four inches and said, “I said your mother isn’t worth the two dollars listed on her price sheet!”
The cougar clenched a fist.
Sam eased back in her chair.
Max started the bidding with a fist straight to a sensitive area of the cougar’s anatomy.  The big cat doubled over with a strangled cry, and the two others who had been drinking with him stood up at their table and charged.
The fox planted a foot on the back of the cougar’s head and ran down his spine, using it as a springboard to launch himself at one of the man’s compatriots.  A hard right to the eye and the wolf went spinning, while the third fur, a whitetail buck, smashed a nearby beer bottle and dropped into a fighting crouch.
“Come on, sweetheart!” Max shouted, scooping up a chair.  “If you don’t like my singing, let’s dance!”  The two went into a brief ballet, the buck feinting with the bottle and Max parrying with the chair.  The fox finally spied an opening and knocked the deer out of the competition with a sweeping left.  Max carried through with the motion and the chair went sailing.
Straight at the bar.
The huge mirror that sat at the back of the bar shattered into splinters with a loud crash as assorted barflies ducked.
“Okay, girls!” Max shouted.  “Who’s next?”
The cougar wobbled to his feet and punched Max in the nose, causing the fox to stagger back.  He came at the feline again, and the two swung at each other with a few combinations that demonstrated a bit more enthusiasm than technique.
“Max!”
“Busy, Sam!”
The badger looked around at the crowd, some of whom were deciding whether to choose sides.  The bartender had already run out into the street, blowing a whistle to summon the police.  She needed a distraction to get them both away.  “Max!”
“I said I’m busy!”
“Recall that question?  The one you keeping asking me?”
“Yeah?”
She blushed, feeling people watching her.  “The answer’s YES!”
Max paused, lowered his fists and turned to look at her.  
Judging from the look in his eyes, her answer had rendered him stone cold sober.  
“Really?” he breathed.
The badgeress nodded, increasing his half-shocked, half-scared look.  
The cougar grabbed a chair and swung.
“MAX!”
The chair hit the fox from behind, driving him forward where Sam caught him in her arms, clutching him to her chest.  
He looked up at her.  “You said Yes,” and his eyes rolled up in his head as he went limp and unconscious.
Sam looked down at him.
She looked up at the cougar.
The cougar, still holding the remains of the chair, looked at her.
“Why, you – “ and with that, she tossed Max aside and charged at the feline.