Happy Humpy Holidays

“Sing it, baby! Lizzy Hale and Halestorm, with ‘Love Bites.’ Ain’t it always the way? No, you didn’t oversleep. This is Tabbs and Fuzzy of the Morning Hair Ball, 105.7 SHFT in Talbot’s Peak, coming to you live from Dante’s for the pre-holiday free-for-all. How’s it going on your end, Fuzzy?”

“(unintelligible)”

“Oh yeah, that’s right, you’re a married wolf now. Gotta buy gifts for the jackal clan. You went all the way down to the exit, didn’t you? How was it?”

“Oh dog, man, the stink … It’s all apes down there, and they all smell like pizza and tobacco. I thought I’d yark. Wait. I did yark. That’s when they threw me out of the Stop’n’Shop.”

“That’s why this kitty shops on line, bro. How you furries doing tonight?”

(Cacaphony of noises from a rowdy, liquored-up crowd)

“Sounds like you’ve all got the holiday spirit. That’s what we wanna hear!”

(Voice from the crowd): “We wanna hear some good music!”

“Try knocking your balls with a tambourine. Have I mentioned we’re rated R tonight? Better get the cubs and kittens out of the room.”

“A little late for that, Tabbs.”

“Relax. We’re on a five-second delay. Leon back at the station’s handling the kill switch.”

“If he didn’t duck out and go party.”

“That’s a chance I’m willing to take. And now, the moment you’ve been waiting for—”

(Voice from the crowd): “You’re leaving?”

“We’ve got two tickets to the Christmas Eve Disco Dinner at Dante’s Inferno, and two tickets to the New Year’s Eve party at the Stardust Supper Club. And all you have to do is … Hump That Leg!”

“Yeesh, man, I thought we buried that bit back in ’07.”

“This is the big time, Fuzz. Wheel of Meat won’t cut it with this crowd.”

(Voice from the crowd): “What kind of meat?”

“Bobcat sausage. Looks like you’ve got a baby link. Here’s how it works: we’ve got two volunteers who are offering up their legs to whichever eager shifter can hump it nonstop for fifteen seconds. I want to stress right here and right now that our volunteers are over 21 and are consenting adults, as are our contestants. None of those underage shenanigans here at Dante’s. We have class.”

(Woman’s voice): “Wait. Volunteers? You promised me $20!”

“I forgot to mention, our volunteers also receive complimentary tickets to the holiday bash of their choice. Ah, there you are. What’s your name, sugar bottom?”

“Sanjia.”

“And you’ve got—holy scat, will you look at those waders! They go all the way to the moon! What are you, dumpling? Antelope?”

“Giraffe.”

“Of course you are. If you need a date to the dance—”

“Forget it, Tabby. You can’t reach that high. For our lady contestants, we have Mr. Gerald Starkweather, who’s got quite a set of stilts of his own. What’s your form, buddy?”

“Great blue heron.”

“He doesn’t look so great to me.”

“Stuff it, Tabbs. And stop drooling on Sanjia.”

(Voice from the crowd): “I want a shot at the bird!”

“No way, Lamar. We were told about you. Only shifters with legs get to play.”

(Voice from the crowd): “That’s discrimination! I’m suing! Snakes are people too!”

“You’re an employee of Dante’s and therefore disqualified. Go squeeze juice out of your boyfriend.”

(Wail from the crowd): “Not again!”

“Let’s get some legitimate players up here before this gets out of hand. Holy guacamole, you're one cougarific wolf. Who might you be, dumpling?”

“Oksana Wilk. My, aren’t you the saucy one.”

“That’s cream with a hint of cinnamon. Now, Sanjia or Gerald will offer up a leg, and all you have to do is hang on and hump for fifteen seconds without falling off. Select the object of your affection. And the time starts—whoa! Wait! Not me! I’m the DJ!”

“You smell like Little Friskies. Here, kitty kitty.”

“Fuzzy! A little help here!”

“Why? She’s doing great, from where I’m sitting.”

(Chant from crowd) “Tabby! Tabby! Tabby!”

“Fuzz, you son of a—” (incoherent yowls)

“I think we have a winner. While we’re setting up for the next round, here’s a little something from AC/DC. And a happy holiday season to you all!”

So You Think Your Dragon Can Dance

“I don’t understand,” Erol said. “How is performing a dance supposed to bring my chosen mate to me? And why must I wear this—” He tugged irritably at the collar of his stiff white dress shirt. “Uncomfortable costume?”

Karma automatically adjusted his tie for him. “You’ve never worn a tux before, have you? Well, dragon up and get used to it, buster. Formal wear’s required for the supperclub. When you bring Greely here, you’re going to look fabulous. Your dancing has to match.”

“Is this one of those inexplicable mammalian mating rituals?” This time he yanked at his waistband. “If so, I don’t see any point to it. Greely is mine. I don’t need to cavort around like an idiot to draw her to my side.”

“You want to keep her there? Then take her out to dinner. Learn to dance. Shower her with attention.” Karma’s teeth flashed in a sardonic smile. “Prove to her what a catch you are.”

“Of course I’m a catch. Any woman can see it. Why doesn’t she?”

Maybe, Karma thought, because Greely had a brain in her head. Granted, Erol filled out a tux like nobody’s business. But physical attractiveness got old really fast, as Karma had learned repeatedly over the millennia. Luckily for him, Erol had a good heart. He might actually be worthy of Greely’s love, once Karma sanded off some of that draconian arrogance. The male cluelessness was another matter, but she was game for anything if it meant her friend would benefit.

“Look. Here’s the deal. We gals are suckers for a romantic man. You’ve made a good start with the gifts. Now you have to step up your game. This sitting around waiting for her to make the move won’t cut it. You’re going to have to ask her out.”

“What, go to her? But that’s not how it’s done. The man shows interest and the woman responds by giving herself over to him. I’ve made my interest known. She should respond.”

“Yeah, I can see how well that’s worked. No wonder your kind is so rare. Obviously your way isn’t working. Why not try mine? It’s one little dance lesson. It isn’t going to kill you.”

“Someone may die today,” Erol muttered under his steamy breath.

“Good afternoon, kiddies!” The dancing instructor, Paul (he pronounced it “Pah-ool”) sauntered in, briskly clapping his hands. Beside him walked a young woman in a floor-length Oktoberfest costume. “Please forgive Sivakka’s attire. I pulled her off work for this. You here for the ballroom lessons?”

“He is.” Karma indicated Erol. She looked around. “Are we it?”

“You’re the dragon, right? Then you get private lessons. Dante’s orders. Dragons tend to get a little, uh, hot under the collar when other males are around. Especially other male dragons. The females—don’t get me started.” He looked Erol up and down, and licked his lips. “It’s you and me, big boy.”

“I’m not dancing with a man!”

“No, of course not,” Paul said quickly. He motioned Sivakka forward. “Sivakka will guide you through the steps, while I call instructions from over there. Way over there.”

Paul started up the recorded music. Sivakka took Erol’s hand and guided the other to her waist. “Light on your feet, like you’re flying,” she said. “It’s just like a glide, nice and easy. You don’t need to dig your claws into your partner. As long as you’re nice to her, she won’t try to run away.”

Erol smirked. “No woman has ever run from me.”

Sivakka smirked right back. “I’ll just bet.”

They glided and twirled to the music for a couple of minutes, until Erol started to blow steam. For a long-lived species, dragons grew bored with surprising alacrity. “All right, we can stop now. I’ve got the hang of it.”

“My toes are screaming otherwise. Light on your own feet, not mine.”

Smoke curled out of Erol’s nostrils. This impertinent female required a lesson of her own. “Listen, wench—”

He stumbled as an image suddenly burst into his thoughts—a titanic serpentine beast with massive flippers and a sinuous neck and tail. The creature was as large as a dragon. Perhaps larger. With the mental image came words, in Sivakka’s warning drawl.

No, you listen. That’s me in my natural form. My kind is even older than yours. We know how to handle dragons. You adjust that attitude right now, little boy, or I’ll douse you like a campfire. Are we clear?

Dry-mouthed, Erol nodded.

Good boy. Now, over the next hour I’m going to turn you into Fred Astaire, and you’re going to show your girl the night of her life. What she does with you afterwards is up to her. And a-one, two, three, one, two three—

Across the room, Karma watched Sivakka’s moves, physical and otherwise, impressed. “She’s a Nessie?”

“I know. I thought they were legends. I don’t know how Dante finds these people. She has standing orders to help me out with the more dangerous students. You know, in case of sudden, unexpected fires and that.”

Karma nodded. If any shifter could get the better of a dragon … “Looks like she’s got him under control.”

“Thank God for that. I have no idea where the fire extinguishers are. Would you like to join in?” He held out his hand to her. “On the house.”

Karma smiled. Why not? Even though she’d been around when most of these moves had been invented, she never turned down the chance to cut an elegant rug with a pretty male. Or whatever. She took Paul’s hand. “I’m leading.”