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How Not To Become Lunch - 82: Pay Your Bill
*snip snip*
“You almost done?” the customer asked, keeping his head still.
“Just about,” came the reply. The slightly soft tone implied a steady level of dedicated focus, as the man carefully maneuvered the scissors, but his voice also carried a warmth of general friendliness, which was reflected well in his smile.
*snip snip*
“But don’t worry, it’s coming out great,” the barber assured, smiling wider at his handiwork as he clipped a few more strands. This new client of his did seem a bit agitated, maybe even nervous, but it wasn’t too hard to guess why. “So, what made you want to go for such a different style?”
“Huh?”
“Well, you started out with a mane to rival some of the lions that come through here, but you’ve asked me to cut it pretty short and tight.” He was actually quite flattered; for a total stranger to come in and ask for such a bold transformation was surely a credit to his reputation.
“Oh, um, it’s just sort of a ‘new town, new me’ thing,” the patron replied.
“New in town, huh?” came the response with continued, genuine interest. “Welcome! Where you from? Oh, you stop anywhere for lunch yet? I can point you toward a few good places around here.”
“Thanks, but I- Uh, heads up, looks like you’ve got a wolf coming in.”
The barber gave his usual glance to the door, just before the little bell jingled to signal another entry. It was common courtesy for humans to point out incoming danger to one another, especially when one was busy attending to the other. In this case, however, there wasn’t any need.
“Well, well, well,” the scissor-er greeted with a growing smile, turning away from his client for a moment. “If it isn’t ‘Officer Lupella’.” The formalness of the title was swimming in a tone of sarcasm and familiarity. The wolf smiled back in kind, tail giving a couple wags.
“Hey there, Macalister,” the canine greeted warmly, “how’s your morning been?”
“Pretty good, I’d say.” He noticed his patron begin to tap his foot anxiously, and shifted his attention back to his job, turning his back toward the flat-bellied werewolf without a second thought. “So, what brings you to my little shop? You’re not ready for another trim yet, are you?”
“No, not yet. I just figured I’d stop by here since it’s lunch time.”
Any other similar exchange between a wolf and a man would likely be cause for some serious alarm, or at least urgent clarification, but in this case, Macalister just gave an appreciative smirk and half-rolled his eyes.
“Thanks, but we’re not in high school anymore, you know. I appreciate it, but you don’t have to worry so much about me getting gobbled up anymore.” His patron shifted uncomfortably in his seat as the wolf took the next one over. “And could you not say it like that?” the barber asked, only half-serious. “You’re gonna scare away my human customers.” He put a hand on his client’s shoulder, both for reassurance and to turn him slightly for the next cut. “Don’t worry,” he assured, “Chester’s not the type to snag his friends’ customers.”
The man getting his hair done didn’t reply, just glanced firmly sideways at the wolf brushing sheddings off his shirt and straightening up his lightweight police uniform.
“You picked a good day to visit,” Macalister chatted. “Jane gave me a few of her muffins. I thought I’d have to track you down when I got a quiet moment, but I guess it figures you were the one who ended up doing the tracking.”
“Heh, I thought I caught a whiff of that.” The wolf’s fairly empty belly gave a conspicuous if quiet little rumble. “I’ll have to thank her. Maybe I’ll come to pick up the kids this time. Would be nice to see them playing.”
“It’s great, isn’t it?” Macalister asked, still working on the finishing touches for his client at the same time. “They get along so well it’s almost like it’s natural.”
“At their age, maybe it sort of is?” the canine offered. His human friend seemed thoughtful for a moment, but with a last snip of those scissors, he seemed finally satisfied with his task and turned his full attention back to his client for the moment.
“There, all done. How’s it look?” The practiced barber pulled out a mirror mid-sentence to provide a more complete view. The man looked on with a rather solid expression, and seemed to take a good few seconds to think before answering.
“Yeah, looks good,” came the eventual answer along with a nod, though he didn’t exactly sound thrilled.
“Anything else I can do for you?” Macalister asked. Once again, his patron took an extra moment or two before replying.
“No, that’s all.” The man stood from the chair, dug a hand into his pocket and rummaged around for a moment. “Shit, um… Sorry man, but… I think I forgot my wallet at home. Could I, uh, come back and pay you later?” His eyes went uncomfortably to the floor. Macalister frowned, but as part of a fairly understanding expression.
“Yeah, alright,” the barber allowed. “This stuff happens. Just, you know, come back with it today or I’ll have to send the hounds after ya,” he joked, gesturing toward Officer Lupella. It was probably funnier to Macalister as a good friend of the werewolf, than it was to this stranger who could easily take it more seriously.
“Yeah, sure, alright.” With a brief, heavy glance at the predator, the man took up a quick pace toward the door, clearly quite uncomfortable.
“Hey, don’t worry, it was just a joke,” Macalister tried to clarify. “Chester’s not gonna nom you over-”
He turned to gesture towards his friend, but by the time his head had shifted to the chair where the wolf had sat down, Chester was no longer there. Instead, there was a fuzzy- furry- blur across the barber’s vision, followed by a startling sound.
“Wha-!!”
*GLRK*
When the barber finally turned his head back in the direction of the door, the man who’d been on his way out was now down on his knees, with Officer Lupella’s knees pinning the human’s lower legs from behind. The wolf had one set of claws wrapped around each wriggling wrist. And the expertly manicured haircut which Macalister had just spent the last forty-five minutes on, was now wedged firmly into the canine’s bulging throat.
*GULP*
And was traveling quickly deeper.
“Ch-Chester!?” the man exclaimed in surprise.
*GULP*
“Chester!?” the wolf’s friend repeated, almost chastising now. Was he seriously just eating a paying customer in the middle of the shop!? Well, maybe not technically a paying customer- yet- but still!
*GULP*
Yes, it seemed. That was exactly what was happening. And seeing as the wolf didn’t appear to be in a listening mood, Macalister simply had to watch with a rather disapproving frown, as the bulge in his friend’s body grew, and the man he’d very recently been chatting with shrank away into the predatory abyss of lupine jaws.
As he watched those flailing feet lift into the air, and Chester’s uniform bulge and ripple with the struggles of the human packed within, the barber’s frown took on an additional color of sympathy. Under normal circumstances, if a predator in his shop tried to snack on one of his patrons, he’d make an effort to break it up, but he wasn’t about to pull his wand on a friend, or a police officer, let alone both.
*GULP*
*GLRK*
*sigh*
The werewolf rose back to his feet, now one or two hundred pounds heavier. As he stood, he dropped the wand he had stripped off his freshly squirming prey, and with his newly free hand, he pressed moderately into his bulbous belly, shifting his taught uniform correctly back into place over the wobbling fur.
*BLURBLE* *UURP*
“‘Scuse me,” he apologized.
“Ches!? Since when do you just come into my store and eat my customers!?”
“Since you started doing haircuts for criminals,” the werewolf replied in an obvious joke.
“Criminal!? Seriously!? I mean, I know he didn’t pay yet, but one haircut isn’t worth digesting someone over. And you could have at least given him till the end of the day to-”
“Whoa, whoa, Mac, relax.”
*gurgle* went the werewolf’s stomach, as the muscles within did the very opposite of relaxing.
“I didn’t grab him cause he tried to stiff you, I grabbed him because he’s stiffed seventeen barbers in the last ten weeks, and eaten twelve of them.”
“Wha- …What?” There were so many strange aspects and implications there that it took Macalister a moment to even process the revelation. “So this guy was a…?”
“A mage-pred, yeah.”
“Targeting barbers!?”
“Everyone’s got their own tastes.” *urp*
“But- but, seventeen in ten weeks!? Who could even get that many haircuts!?”
“Yeah, apparently he used a bunch of that shampoo with the potion in it that makes hair grow. Just so he could go for haircuts more often. They called him The Barber Barbarian.”
“My sister-in-law’s stuff? But wait- there aren’t even that many barbers in town!”
“You’re right about that one.” Chester reached back and pulled out a bit of hair from his tail pocket. It looked just like the fresh clippings that littered the store. “Clawsdale sent this sample over. That’s how I tracked him to your shop. He skipped town there a few days ago.”
“Flippin Clawsdale!? Ugh, of course this would be one of theirs.” Mac shook his head, equal parts rattled and aggravated.
“Tell me about it. How they let this guy slip away, I’ll never know.”
“Well, something tells me he’s not getting away now,” Mac glanced down at his friend’s lumpy lunch.
“Nope.” The wolf patted his belly in satisfaction. He’d rescued his friend, taken a criminal off the streets, and secured a nice lunch. All in a day’s work.
“Barber Barbarian, huh? Sounds like something out of a comic.”
“That’s Clawsdale for ya.”
“Hey, did I tell you I started giving some of my old comics to Jack? He really loves them.”
“Oh yeah? Good for him.”
There was a lull in the conversation as both once again imagined their little ones playing, briefly forgetting the living man currently being processed into wolf food just between them.
“Anyway, I’d better get back to the station and report this,” Chester said eventually.
“Well, thanks for the save. Guess we’re not too far past high school after all, huh? Oh, um, you still have room for one of Jane’s muffins?”
With a touch of faux concern, Mr. Lupella looked down at his belly and gave it and its occupant another little squish, this time from above.
“For those things, I can always make some room!”
Mac rolled his eyes and chuckled, before fearlessly turning his back on the werewolf once again and walking off toward the rear of his shop where he kept his things. He returned just a moment later, holding two of his wife’s special meat-filled muffins. The barber had already taken a few bites out of his on the way back, not that his head start would have him finishing before Chester.
“Here, catch,” Macalister said, tossing the gift over and aiming high.
Chester quickly positioned himself, even with his hefty meal in tow, and snatched the snack midair. He mashed it between his jaws a few times to extract all the flavor before quickly sending it down to his belly to join the rest of his lunch.
*chomp* *chomp* *chomp*
*gulp*
*squelch*
The wolf’s gut rumbled with renewed vigor and renewed protests as the mushy mass of masticated muffin “squelched” its way into whatever little nooks and crannies The Barber Barbarian was leaving open.
“Man, those things are good!” he licked his muzzle and smiled. Macalister smiled back.
“Jane’ll be happy to hear. See you at my place after work?”
“Sure thing, Mac.”
And with another exchange of smiles and waves, the two friends parted ways.
…
“Okay, you’ve gotta be real slow, and real quiet,” came the little whisper of a little wolf, right in his ear.
Jack, down on all fours- though more on his knees than on his feet- wiggled his butt in the air, trying to mimic what he’d seen Fiona doing. She didn’t see it, however. Her canine eyes were completely focused on their prey.
“Wait…” she whispered. “Wait… Now!”
Jack leapt with all the strength and coordination his little boy body could provide, hurtling himself forward over the grass of his back yard. Hands outreached, he bared his non-existent claws and put on his best predator-esque face.
*thud* *flutter*
The sound of frantically flapping wings came and faded as the young boy drove a little divot into the dirt.
Fiona’s little predatory eyes tracked the colorful little mouthful as it fled, not really returning to her friend until he started rolling over and groaning.
“Jack? You okay?” she asked, pattering over evenly on all fours and poking her concerned muzzle into his face.
“Yeah…” he replied, obviously embarrassed and disappointed.
“Don’t worry, it took me a lot of tries,” she comforted.
He brushed a bunch of dirt from his arms, but flinched just a bit when he pressed a bit too hard against one forearm and realized he’d scraped it up. Not enough to bleed or anything, but just enough to be a bit tender.
Fiona’s tail drooped as she watched him rub gently at the area. She stepped a little closer, sniffing at the spot, then going mostly on instinct, gave his battered arm a little lick, and then another.
“Huh? Wha- heh- What are- hehe- Wha-” But any chance he had at finishing that question were lost when he finally broke out fully into a fit of laughter and giggles, at the silly sight and tickly, slimy sensation of her canine tongue against his skin.
From the back porch, two humans, a werewolf, and a belly full of ex-human stew watched on, all with wholesome grins- minus the last, of course. Parents, watching their kids play. Mac had just gotten home from work, and Ches had just arrived to pick up his daughter. They would call the little ones in in a moment, but for now, they all just tacitly opted to wait a bit longer.
After all, in a world like theirs, filled with predators and prey, why spoil a special little moment like this?
…
As light crept into the room after a long night of darkness, two pairs of eyes slid open, perhaps even at the same time. Neither were really sure who had gotten up first or what had awoken them, but as Jack sat up to stretch, he heard the telltale sound of a canine yawn, and glanced over to catch a glint of sunlight reflecting off Fiona’s pointed teeth before they disappeared back into her muzzle. The scent of the early hours wafted in through the open window.
“Morning, Fi.”
“Morning, Jack.”
Shaking off sleep, they both gradually pulled themselves from their cozy warmths, Jack from his bed and Fiona from her sleeping bag, and started bracing themselves for the day ahead. After a long weekend, it was time to head back to school.
“You sleep okay down there, Fi?” Jack asked. She’d always seemed quite happy to take the sleeping bag, but he felt he should double check anyway.
“Oh yeah, like a pup,” she replied, stretching. “…Actually, I had kind of a weird dream.”
“Yeah, me too,” Jack replied.
They looked at each other for a moment, reading enough from each other’s faces to understand what they’d just shared. And though it wasn’t quite clear what that had been or how it had happened, after a long moment of silence, they did both at least realize why it had happened.
“The muffins!”