Apsuzette- 3 years prior

  Fenfeld

  Shots ring out over the usually quiet seaside town. Numerous townfolk spill out of the local tavern as officers rush to catch the simian thief escaping with the entire evening's gambling pool.

  "Excuse me," Fenfeld says, darting through a crowd of nicely dressed women strolling under the rising sun. "Coming through. Excuse me."

  Fenfeld stops to truly admire the small group of women. Not a bad looking woman in the bunch. One woman, in particular, catches his observant eye. He shuffles his eyebrows in approval and whistles softly.

  "Ooo. That's nice," Fenfeld coos, using one of his six hands to peek under the nearest woman's colorful skirts to eye her silk petticoat.

  "Hey!" the offended fox woman shouts, slapping Fenfeld hard across his face.

  The apeman cradles his aching cheek and offers the cute fox a crafty smile. He shuffles his bushy eyebrows again--more energetically this time.

  "Oww! Do it again, Honey!" Fenfeld whispers. "I need something to remember your sweet face by."

  The fox woman takes this as her cue to punch Fenfeld square in his nose. Fenfeld holds his nose with two hands and grins maniacally.

  "Thanks, Honey! That was pretty good. Bye now."

  Fenfeld takes off running, the authorities not far behind. The Apsuzette officers rudely push through the crowd before halting and approaching the same small group of women.

  "Which way did the thief go?" the ape commander inquires in a businesslike tone.

  "That way!" the group of ape women and one fox say simultaneously.

  "Thank you," the ape commander states, tipping his hat. "Come on, men! This way. The thief is getting away!"

  The fox woman, whose dress Fenfeld had peeked under, crosses both arms over her chest. She seems absorbed in thought.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  "A thief, eh?" she whispers to herself. "If only I had known. I might have joined him."

  "What did you say, Sassy?" an ape woman asks, powdering her nose with a compact from her purse.

  "Nothing, Dear," Sassy says dreamily. "Nothing at all."

  -

  -

  Fifteen minutes later, Fenfeld is still at large. He jumps over tables in the square and swings on balconies, staying twenty steps ahead of the authorities. The escaping apeman is caught off guard when a large frying pan extends from a window in front of him, slamming directly into his face.

  "How did that get there?" Fenfeld wonders aloud.

  Fenfeld loses his grip on the railing he was swinging on. Pinwheeling his arms, Fenfeld attempts to find something else to grab hold of. The only thing nearby is a clothesline. Fenfeld decides the clothesline is better than nothing. He grips the line, sliding down it. The thin rope burns his hands, cutting into his rough palms.

  Fenfeld ignores the pain, switching between his sextuplet of hands as he carefully descends. A pellet barely misses his face and Fenfeld shakes his head negatively.

  "Nope. Nuh-uh. Back up!" Fenfeld mutters to himself.

  Bunching up his body, Fenfeld launches himself upward. He uses his six arms and two legs to scramble up the side of the multistory building. More shots ring out, narrowly missing him. The Apsuzette Police are closing in. If they catch him? No. He won't even think about that.

  Fenfeld's ascent is going unusually good until he reaches a slope in the building's wall. He scrambles to maintain purchase on the wall. Thunder rumbles above his head and Fenfeld peers up at the sky. A giant raindrop splashes onto his right cheek and then the downpour begins.

  "Oh crap!" Fenfeld whispers, as he slides down the wall.

  A loud crack of what sounds like thunder cuts through the noise of excitement in the square. Fenfeld finds himself being propelled back upward--as a net wraps around him from below. Yet, just as quickly, he is falling again. The stout Apsuzette Police Officer, who managed to trap Fenfeld, laughs and yanks on the rope connected to the giant net. Fenfeld is dragged along the ground and through the square.

  Several townfolk throw old veggies and bread at the simian prisoner. The elderly weasel, who'd pummeled Fenfeld with her frying pan, emerges on her balcony. She waves a fist at the apeman and speaks in her Weaselian gibberish. Fenfeld is beyond fed up--and quite embarrassed. He childishly sticks out his tongue and uses his sextuplet of hands to make six thumbs-downs.

  "Yeah, yeah. I can't hear you, dumb weasel! I oughta drag you in the streets for hitting me with that freaking pan, Grandma! I almost got away too," Fenfeld complains.

  "Almost!" the lead officer, in front of the stout police officer, says. "But, you oughta know by now...Fenfeld Kaiser....No one escapes the Apsuzette Police. We always get our man!"

  "Oh, is that so?" Fenfeld challenges the Apsuzette commander. "Only with help from little old weasels!"

  "Sometimes. But, we would've gotten you eventually," the commander says with a sly grin. "For an ape...You're not very smart, Fenfeld."

  "Haha, Officer. You're real funny!" Fenfeld laughs. "But don't quit your day job!"