lackadaisical-tale

[lackadaisical-tale]

Rocky’s Lackadaisical Tale - Chapter 1: Bardic Inspiration

It was the year 1927, the place: St. Louis, Missouri, in the southern part of the United States of America. The American government had placed a ban on any establishment selling liquor or any alcoholic drink publicly. But this story is not about that; not at all.

Nearing the corner of one of St. Louis's streets was the ever-lovable tabby cat, Roark "Rocky" Rickaby. His blue suit popped out against the purple and pink of the sunset that was enveloping the sky that early evening. He had been as happy-go-lucky as he'd always been, his tail swishing behind him like a very big, fluffy cattail.

Compelled by the grandeur of the scene before him, Rocky began to recite a poem as verbosely as his mannerisms would allow.

“Oh, dear Daystar! Let your beautiful smile; radiant as ever, try to reach us down here in this city of steel and smoke. Blotting out your beautiful pyre for the sanguine reds and jealous emerald isles we conspire to sully.” Rocky said, his inspiration taking hold of his mouth and holding it open for the wellspring of words.

“Oh dear, daystar! Might I apologize for taking your countenance as such, as my mortality counts off the days and daze me with the lackadaisical praise you shine upon this Rome of the West? Which blesses me with visions such as this, and hexes me to not have people hear my words, being the most gallant of inspirations or the most vicious of mockeries.”

Rocky goes in for a third verse to his spontaneous poem, only for an officer of the law to hurry the tabby in blue along his way. And so Rocky acquiesced and went right along.

“Anyways, I need to get to Mrs. Mitzy’s place and get to work. We got a buyer coming and I got to make a good impression on them all. I hope it isn’t six already.” Rocky repeated out loud to himself as he walked to the one place he worked at; and not at all by legitimate means. The speakeasy is known as “Lackadaisy”.

Meanwhile, as the sun sets and the moon draws closer to hanging over the metropolitan streets, a certain fired-furred cat, Odin-eyed Slovakian, and a young madam were all hanging out at the bar; among the other members of the crew that were there that night.

“I wonder if Rocky will be late?” Viktor bluntly grumbled out the question, cleaning the glasses that were barely getting any use from the patrons who were intimidated by his physical appearance and lack of depth perception.

Meanwhile, Freckle was reading a new book he had gotten—a collection of Arthurian stories and legends. He had recently become interested in medieval stories and tales of knights in shining armor, riding noble and gallant steeds. Coming into the room from the garage was the young party animal (despite being an animal herself), Ivy Pepper, covering the groundwork for what needed to be fixed on the automobiles used for rum-running and bootlegging, and also covered in inky, black grease.

“Well, there goes my outfit. Probably gonna have to head back home and get changed.” Ivy spoke, the empty bar carrying her voice enough for both Freckle and Viktor to hear her.

“That seems like a bad idea. You shouldn’t be going home alone. It’s late.” Viktor said, still cleaning the glasses and the bar top.

“Well, in that case…somebody ought to take me. Do you want—“

“No. Too busy. An important business deal is being done. Sedgewick and Mitzi are coming in with them. Need to “spruce” place up.” Viktor grumbled out.

“Well, alright. That leaves only one left.” Ivy said, shrugging her shoulders. “Calvin, mind coming with me home?” she asked, looking at him for a response. It took a moment, but he soon realized she was asking him.

“Oh, uh, er…me? I suppose I can, but Mitzi also wants me to stay here. Rocky’s coming and she wants me to make sure Rocky doesn’t….uh…well…” Freckle answered, his eyes darting around, his hands trying to occupy themselves.

“Fine, I’ll go it alone. I can take care of myself just fine. You both need to get out there one day, y’know? Such homebodies.” Ivy huffed, crossing her arms. She hurried to collect her things and left.

Freckle thought about what Ivy said. “…Don’t we need to be at home for us to be homebodies?” he muttered to himself.

Time passed and soon Rocky came down, with his violin case in one hand and his hat in another. “Heya! How are…we…..all….” Rocky trailed off as he looked around.

“Say, where’s Miss M? I thought she’d be here at six?” Rocky asked, pulling out a note that she gave to him, his thumb partially covering the first digit of the time. Freckle looked at the note, closing his book as he did. He goes to look at the note. Immediately, he sighs. “Rocky…take a look at the note again. And take your thumb off the writing.”

Rocky smiled at this. “Okay, sure! I can do that,” he said. He takes a look at the note and goes to read it out loud.

“Rocky Rickaby, please come to the speakeasy at 8 and—“

Rocky blue eyes widened as he realized his mistake. A faint blush of embarrassment on his cheeks, slowly tucking the note back into his coat pocket. He chuckled sheepishly. “…Oops,” he said in response.

“Yeah, oops,” Freckle said in mild frustration. “Look, just don’t do any of your usual hijinks. I usually go with it, but…Mitzi seems to think this is important. So just don’t do anything.”

Rocky noted the weird tension around Freckle, so he decided to not press any buttons. He may be eccentric, but he isn’t stupid.

“You got it, cousin! Consider that done!” Rocky said with a smile, going to take a seat in one of the speakeasy booths and practice his violin. But that wasn’t long before Rocky tried to talk to both Freckle and Viktor repeatedly, over time they both decided they needed Rocky to give them some space.

“Hey, Rocky? It’s gonna be a bit before everyone shows up. Why not go out for a bit?” Freckle suggested. Rocky was surprised by this, before nodding and going with the suggestion. He leaves his violin and goes to explore the sights near Lackadaisy.

Freckle slumps to his seat, looking at the time. It was currently 6:45 P.M. The orange-haired cat sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“This is gonna be a long night, isn’t it?”