Possible sidefling of "Free to a Good Home" - the X-Men (and Brotherhood maybe?) volunteer at an animal shelter as part of community...
(#00015)
[It’s Free to a Loving Home, BTW…]
“Remind me again why we’re doing this?”
“It’s this or orange jumpsuits, yo.” Todd twiddled with the device around his neck. Stark Industries had been both very quick and very clever with coming up with ways to ensure mutant miscreants paid their dues.
“Stop doing that,” warned Freddy. “You might make it angry.” He had discovered the downside of trying to interfere with the mutant inhibitor collar. In that it turned all mutant abilities off. Two hours of immobility, struggling to breathe, while a tech got over there to fix things had been plenty for him.
Pietro, the chief reason why they were facing community service, was looking more than a little stoned. “This is how time passes for you? So… quickly. All the seconds just whooshing by…”
“Urgh, can it with the Doctor Who crap, it’s too early in the morning,” grated Lance. There it was. Their ultimate destination.
The Humane Shelter for Orphaned Animals.
Worrying fact: it was backed up against a frigging ranch.
Likewise worrying fact: The guy waiting for them to pull into the indicated spot was the last kind of fellow you wanted to meet in a dark alley. Big, muscled, tattooed and fifty shades of mean.
“You Jonah?” asked Lance.
“Yeh,” growled Jonah. He had a voice that was not only gravelly, but also briar-y on-fire-y as well. It was a voice one could easily expect from Beelzebub. “Got one size fits all unitards inna back. Follow me.”
Not wanting to attract his wrath, the Brotherhood did.
Lesson one: One size fits all - doesn’t.
Lesson two: Freddy cries when he’s scared.
Lesson three: Toad in the same size jumpsuit is just plain firkin hilarious.
“Shaddap, yo!”
“WWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!! IDONWANNADIIIIIEEEEEE!!!”
Jonah took one look in on the four of them and grated, “Oh Jesus H. Christ…” and walked away.
“WAAAAAAAHHHHAAAAHHHAAAAAHHHH!!”
“Freddy! Chill!”
“Look on the bright side, willya?” said Pietro. “Nobody’s dead yet.”
“WWWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!”
“Great going there, Doctor Phil,” deadpanned Lance.
“EY!”
Everyone jumped. Jonah was back with some denim balled up in his trunk-like arms.
“Got some spares for odd bodies. Aunty Jenna’s about your size,” He tossed some overalls to Toad. “And my other uncle has a genetic condition. You might find it a bit on the tall side, but it aughta fit.”
“Sir? Why’s there girly coloured ponies on mine?” risked Todd.
“Aunty Jenna’s twelve. Girly coloured ponies are pretty much automatic.”
Pie was busting something trying not to laugh.
“Shut it, alabaster.”
“Shuttinguprightnowsir!”
There was a lot to do. Most of it involved the redistribution of dung. Some of it involved care and feeding.
Lessons of the day included: There are horses of many different sizes, and people of all colours of cruelty. Including one who got on the hit parade for insisting his neglected pony was, in fact, a dog.
And then there were the confiscated exotic animals. There for as long as it took to ensure they weren’t carrying diseases before their trip to a zoo.
“Aaaaaawww,” cooed Freddy. Looking in over Jonah’s shoulder. “Whadda ‘dorable ittuw bitty cutie…”
“That’s a sugar glider. Don’t mess with it.”
“I don’t wanna hurt it.”
Jonah snorted. “I’m not worried about you hurting her. She’s from Australia. Anything from Australia that isn’t outright venomous can still rip your shit.” He put on chainmail gloves. “And she has babies. Never mess with a mommy.”
The cute little ball of fur sniffed at Jonah’s approaching mailed hand and instantly tried to sink her teeth through it. Several times. She continued biting as Jonah very carefully checked out the joeys - “They’re marsupials. All baby marsupials are joeys.” - and administered medicine.
His hand came out of the glove bloody.
“…jesus…” whispered Lance.
“Yeah. If I didn’t have the gloves, she’d have my fingers off.” The mail, they couldn’t help noticing, had possum-holes in it.
Freddy went pale.
“If you’re gonna puke, puke in the slops bucket. If you’re gonna faint, go outside.”
“…i'mokay…”
Jonah negligently washed and superglued his injuries closed. “Don’t worry about Ms Sugar Glider. She’s already got a zoo in Japan who’s ready to spoil her rotten. Soon as I get her used to the idea that people won’t always hurt her, of course.
There was a bell, which made Jonah curse.
"Customer?” said Lance.
“Worse. Drop-off.”
It was like the Safe Haven laws. Kind of. People could drop off unwanted pets at certain shelters and not have to face any consequences. Of course, they got consequences if they confused the two laws and left a baby at a pet shelter or a pet at a fire station.
This time, it was a box of kittens. Their eyes were barely opened and they looked ragged.
“I hate people,” Jonah rumbled.
The lessons changed to how to nurture kittens not yet fit to be away from their mom.
“Alabaster, you’re shaving their butt-holes.”
“What? Why am I on butt-hole duty?”
“One: Kittens need to poop, too. Two: Because you strike me as the biggest butt-hole of the four of you and that makes you an expert. Three: because I’ll superglue your butt-hole shut if you don’t.”
“Stinky,” this was Todd, “You’re combing and wiping. Tough guy,” Lance, “You’re washing. Special soap. Don’t let 'em lick it. Softy,” Fred, “You’re drying and feeding. I’m setting up a foster nest.”
Pie spent most of his time muttering 'euw’ over and over again.
“Aw man,” Todd sighed. “Whoever had 'em last tried to cut their fur with scissors. Poor little kitties got cuts all over…” The partial longhair in his hands pushed out a massive poop. Practically half its tiny body. Todd just muttered and reached for the wipes. “Good little patch. Good kitty.”
“Good?” Pie winced. “That goddamn flea farm just shat all over your hand!”
“Focus on the butts, Butt,” growled Jonah from somewhere outside.
“Used'a have a neighbor had a lotta cats. Little cats can’t poop 'less their momma licks 'em. Poor baby prolly hasn’t gone fo’ ages.”
“Aw, that’s just horrible…”
There were six kittens, carefully shorn the right way and patched up under Jonah’s surprisingly tender hands. One grey, one white, one ginger, one tortie and two black and white ones, one with solid patches and the other with spotty ones.
Their new mom, a surprisingly orange queen named Freddie (“Long story. You wouldn’t understand”) settled down and groomed the living heck out of all six with much raucous purring.
“Freddie’s a good foster mom,” said Jonah. “She’s even tried to adopt a baby elephant, one time.”
“Dude. How would that even work?” Pie made a face.
“She stood on a chair.”
*
Fred - the human one - took every opportunity to check up on Freddie and the kittens every day.
“Don’t get attached, Softy. It’s our job to see 'em safe to a better home.”
“I can still like 'em can’t I?”
For a second, the tough, rough exterior of Jonah chipped away to reveal the marshmallow underneath. “Likin’ 'em’s why I’m here.”
Fred grinned.
“What’d you name 'em?” Jonah asked.
“The orange one’s Marm, the white one’s Twinkle, the grey’s Cumulo, the tortie’s Scribble, that black and white one’s Patch and this black and white one is Polka.”
This somehow got Jonah’s approval. “I give 'em nicknames, too. Not their real names. Helps me deal when they move on.”
“That why you gave us nicknames?” said Fred.
“Don'cha got horse stalls to muck out?”
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