JuliusCreed wrote:The old man glances up from the counter as the noise approaches, a bushy brow lofting behind crystal spectacles in an expression of mild concern and light interest until the tiger man bursts in. Sweeping his gaze over the scrawny and bedraggled form and noting the duffel bag with a look of keen interest. An amused chuckle almost escapes his lips as the creature begins trying to speak, listening intently and nodding slowly as he gradually interprets what is being said. "While you may have never seen this shop in your newly acquired alleyway before, I can assure you that at some point in time or another it has always been there, just as it is this very moment. Welcome to Uncle Remus' Emporium of the Arcane... and yes... I am Uncle Remus. before I serve your needs, perhaps you would be so kind as to drink this tonic. I assure you, it will not harm you in any way, though your speech will become much clearer." The old man smiles reassuringly, offering a small crystal vial filled with what appears to be pure clean water.
(edited..
again. Can't get happy with the end bit, but this is close enough.)
With a shrug and one arm wrapped tightly around his duffel bag the tiger man takes the vial, raises it in a toast and tosses it back. Clearly not expecting what he got, the tiger man smiles, licks his whiskers and says, "Hey, that's not bad. It's no free beer, but still.", in a very gravelly but much clearer voice.
"Guess I'll start at the beginning. So me and Ernie were out scavenging near the shore, when wouldn't you know it, it starts to rain. Well after that crap with Sandy 2 guys like us know better than to be caught outside away from the mission. So we look up from the dumpster we're picking through and there, nice as you please, is this little beach house. Since when do they have beach houses in New York, I don't know, but there it was anyway. As we're eyeballing the place, thinking maybe whoever lives there will let us in out of the rain and maybe spare a sandwich, out walks this hairy biker fella. He jumps on his hog and takes off like it's a breezy summer day, paying no attention to the rain threatening to drown everyone else.
Well we figure it like this; if there's no one home then there ain't no one to tell us we can't come in. So over we go only to find this putz has locked the door behind him. Not to be deterred or drowned like rats we found a conveniently open window and made our way inside. The place was a wreck, trash and video cassettes everywhere, but damned if the fridge wasn't stocked full.
Not letting an opportunity go to waste, me and Ernie dump out these suitcases we found in one of the other rooms and start packing them full of what’s in the fridge. No sooner do we get them latched up, than the schmuck comes back in strolling through the front door. Acting like he owns the place, he asks what we think we're doing in his kitchen. I tell him we're from the city health department and the contents of his fridge were about to go bad, so we're disposing of them as a matter of public service." Obviously thinking he's very clever, the tiger man grins at what to him was a witty retort.
"Now get this. The biker guy looks me dead in the face, without twitching. Usually I get at least a twitch, and says to me, "wrong answer ass hat." Then all the skin and meat peels away from his head and his frikkin' skull catches fire!!
So I haul off and hit him as hard as I can with the suitcase full of food from the fridge, and he just grins at me. I go to give him a good clawing and he steps out of the way like I was some kind of yutz. I try again and he just grabs my wrist out of the air.
'Bout that time the biker guy, who now has a flaming skull for a head, lifts me up off the ground with one hand and is dangling me by my wrist. With his free hand he pulls out this blade and makes to stick me with it. I may eat handouts and from dumpsters, but I ain't a total slouch. Twice I was able to knock his hand away before he manages to finally shank me a good one.
Now Ernie, God knows what he was doing, decides to come to my rescue. He pulls out his blackjack and WHAM WHAM WHAM nails the guy in the sack like he was Babe frikkin Ruth knocking homers out of the park. Seeing my chance I give the guy 3 good rakes with the claws on my free hand when POOF he just disappears, dropping me on my striped ass. All that was left of the guy was his knife, and a steel 6 sided die on a necklace.
Now squatter’s rights say, since we took the place in a fair fight it's ours now. Trouble is, me and Ernie got no way to keep the lights and water on, or the fridge stocked up. No way can we get jobs, being like we are. And there ain't no chance we can make enough from scrappin' and the ..uhh..creative and unexpected liberation of goods to pay the bills.
So I went down to see Freddy the Fence and he's not buying anything. Says the stuff I got is not what his customers want. That leaves the Old Cranky Jew what runs that Hoodoo pawn shop on 9th. He gave me a good price for the weird stuff I...found.., like those silver candle sticks with the black candles and those three wavy bladed knives, but he don't like me showing up in the middle of the night. I asked him if he needs any favors in exchange for a few bucks to keep the lights on a little longer. He tells me no, but he heard tell of a guy called Uncle Remus who might have a more permanent solution my problems. I ain't got a lot of choices so I tell him I'll give it a shot. He gives me an address then throws me out of his shop. Now I know NYC like I know my own stripes and there ain't no shop at the address he gave me. Hell, it ain't even supposed to be a real address, there ain't no such streets. But I kept walking, like it was a real place. I turned the corner thinking that I was being made for a mook, and there your door is staring me in the face. I should be in the east river after following those directions.
So now that I'm here I ask ya, How can you help me out and what do want in return? If it's work you want done instead of payment I can do that too. I'll tell you the truth, I wouldn't mind working as long as it was a normal job of some sort. Too much lately my days have been getting weirder and weirder. First it was that jerkass who knocked me down and spilled my fish sticks while he was on his way to sacrifice that girl. Then it was that Giant Bear that bit me. Turns out it wasn't a bear, but a cursed gypsy what bit me. Passed the curse on to me, so when I got hurt really bad I'd turn into this big murderin' demon bear thing. I'm still fuzzy on the details. I got rid of that finally by tearing off the gypsy's head and mushing it to paste. Ticked his old gypsy wife off but good. But what a crazy week that was. Fall asleep in the mission, have these acid trip type dreams, then wake up naked in Central Park with leaves and dirt matted in my fur. And then the flaming skull biker guy who vanished when we beat his ass. I've had enough weirdness to suit me fine. Give me a broom and a mop, or have me move your stuff around. I ain't picky. Hell I'll steal the centerpiece exhibit from the Met or the Guggenheim, just no more weird ****.
Oh, you'll have to forgive my lack of manners. I don't normally do this much talking, especially to strangers. People, who don't run screaming, come to know me as Smokey Joe Gargle."
**CENSORED DUE TO EXTREMELY ADULT CONTENT** 
) I can only say, I'm sorry, but my mobile is a monster to type on and the shop does require some pretty lengthy posts... I'd hate to see anyone's thumbs after trying to text in something of that size. 
