12-30-2017, 09:40 PM
Jams agreed with that sentiment, and soon the duo walked off down the alley. So far, they had one potential customer, and all from just helping him out. Perhaps this could really get business rolling. As they walked, it wasn't long before they realized they had no idea where the location was in the slightest. “Hey Eric, you know where we're going, right?”
Eric glanced at his friend. “Of course. We are headed to 1147 Denim Drive.”
“How are we gonna get there?”
“I haven't a clue.”
“Figures.” Jams threw his hands in the air.
“Do not worry, Jams, this is a big city. That was probably not the only notice board, so the address ought to be around this area.”
Jams gave an exasperated sigh. He's probably right, so hopefully this won't take long. Patience was never the boy's strong suit.
---
Thirty minutes later...
---
The two finally made it to their destination, Jams slumping on the ground from exhaustion. All the exercise from the forest, and he could not walk for a steady thirty minutes. Then again, he and Eric did take a few breaks on their woodland expedition as opposed to walking for a steady half hour across the brick roads of the city. Nonetheless, the young mage knocked on the door thrice and was greeted by their client. He was a large humanoid feline, about four foot six with a thin, swaying tail and grey fur. He wore a simple black jacket and denim shorts, with a blue scarf wrapped around his neck. It was hard to tell (having not seen many bipedal cats in his time and all), but Jams could have sworn he had bags under his eyes. He spoke softly yet surely. “Can I help you?”
Jams motioned for Eric to go, and so he did. “Hello, I am Eric. This is Jams.” He waved to his associate. “We set up a nearby establishment, and-”
The man went to shut the door. “Sorry, I'm not interested.”
Jams took a step forward. “Wait, we're here to help!” He held up the flier for help.
“Oh, I see. Come on in.”
---
The duo entered his abode, filled with a rather ramshackle assortment of furniture and heirlooms. There was enough dust to make Jams cough up a hairb- er, a lung. Eric was largely unphased by the state of the house, asking his host about the job at hand as they walked down the hall.
“I've got some rats in the cellar, and they have been wrecking my stuff for a week now. I need someone to get rid of them.”
“We would be glad to help you with that.” Eric stood by two large wooden doors sloped up from the floor, a rather generic- but effective- entrance to any given basement.
Jams, not thinking or considering the outcome at all, asked “But you're a cat, don't you guys hunt rodents?” The client gave him a stare that could make the moon explode. The look on his face prompted Jams to beg forgiveness. “Oh, jeez, I'm sorry! Wa-was that a bad thing to ask?” No response. “O-oh... I-I'll just... go... over here...” Jams slouched over to the other room, leaving Eric with the feline.
“Is your friend normally racist?”
“Not usually. He probably did not mean anything by it, we've not been in the Omniverse for very long. I'm honestly surprised you did not told him to leave.”
“I'm used to stuff like that these days. Besides, maybe he can help around the house while you work down here.”
“He did bring a broom with him, after all. So how many rats are down there?”
Eric glanced at his friend. “Of course. We are headed to 1147 Denim Drive.”
“How are we gonna get there?”
“I haven't a clue.”
“Figures.” Jams threw his hands in the air.
“Do not worry, Jams, this is a big city. That was probably not the only notice board, so the address ought to be around this area.”
Jams gave an exasperated sigh. He's probably right, so hopefully this won't take long. Patience was never the boy's strong suit.
---
Thirty minutes later...
---
The two finally made it to their destination, Jams slumping on the ground from exhaustion. All the exercise from the forest, and he could not walk for a steady thirty minutes. Then again, he and Eric did take a few breaks on their woodland expedition as opposed to walking for a steady half hour across the brick roads of the city. Nonetheless, the young mage knocked on the door thrice and was greeted by their client. He was a large humanoid feline, about four foot six with a thin, swaying tail and grey fur. He wore a simple black jacket and denim shorts, with a blue scarf wrapped around his neck. It was hard to tell (having not seen many bipedal cats in his time and all), but Jams could have sworn he had bags under his eyes. He spoke softly yet surely. “Can I help you?”
Jams motioned for Eric to go, and so he did. “Hello, I am Eric. This is Jams.” He waved to his associate. “We set up a nearby establishment, and-”
The man went to shut the door. “Sorry, I'm not interested.”
Jams took a step forward. “Wait, we're here to help!” He held up the flier for help.
“Oh, I see. Come on in.”
---
The duo entered his abode, filled with a rather ramshackle assortment of furniture and heirlooms. There was enough dust to make Jams cough up a hairb- er, a lung. Eric was largely unphased by the state of the house, asking his host about the job at hand as they walked down the hall.
“I've got some rats in the cellar, and they have been wrecking my stuff for a week now. I need someone to get rid of them.”
“We would be glad to help you with that.” Eric stood by two large wooden doors sloped up from the floor, a rather generic- but effective- entrance to any given basement.
Jams, not thinking or considering the outcome at all, asked “But you're a cat, don't you guys hunt rodents?” The client gave him a stare that could make the moon explode. The look on his face prompted Jams to beg forgiveness. “Oh, jeez, I'm sorry! Wa-was that a bad thing to ask?” No response. “O-oh... I-I'll just... go... over here...” Jams slouched over to the other room, leaving Eric with the feline.
“Is your friend normally racist?”
“Not usually. He probably did not mean anything by it, we've not been in the Omniverse for very long. I'm honestly surprised you did not told him to leave.”
“I'm used to stuff like that these days. Besides, maybe he can help around the house while you work down here.”
“He did bring a broom with him, after all. So how many rats are down there?”
Death Count: 0
Banish Count: 0
Banish Count: 0