Tales

"So you're called Ninetails, huh?"

"Yeah, but you've been spelling my name wrong. It's actually Ninetales."

"What are you talking about? You've clearly got nine tails! Why wouldn't it be spelled that way?"

"Just do a Google image search of Pokemon anthro fan art. Trust me, I've got some fucking tales to tell..."

Meet the muscle

"The apocalypse is upon us!!"

"You say that every week, Squeaker. What is it this time, did you get a pessimistic fortune cookie?"

"Anthony has returned to his treacherous ways. He’s made six entries in just over a week. Six!! That’s three times as many as the last two years combined! It’s only a matter of time before we’re little more than rotting piles of fluff in a heap of garbage..."

"So that’s why I came up with a contingency plan, see? Whiskers, I’d like for you to meet my new bodyguard, Sarge!"

"Grrr..."

"What are you talking about? Sarge has been here the whole time. He’s older than either one of us!"

"You son of a bitch! You lied to me!!"

"Sorry, pal. Times are ruff."

Ratted out

"Mozzarella, my darling, my precious, my magnum opus! Though the toy empire appears to be crumbling before us like Troy itself, know that our love is stronger than fate. I shall protect you from the dire hand of treachery, until the bitter end!"


"Oh damn, there's the hand."


"Tarry, you wicked tyrant! How can you play games with our lives, only to throw us aside when you deem us obsolete? Years of loyal servitude, and how do you repay us? To be stuffed in a closet, in the garage, in a funky-looking plastic tub for a decade, and then, finally, thrown to the jackals of the world? You bastard! Leave her be! You will never take her!!"


"..."


"Oh hell no, bitch is yours."


"Well, that was interesting. What was with all the big fancy words?"

"I watched Shakespeare in Love."


"...It was terrible."

Wishmaker

“Hey Squeaker, you look kinda bummed. What’s up?”


“Haven’t you heard? Anthony’s giving away his toys! It’s the end of the world! We’re doomed to an eternity of limb-tearing, fabric-staining, drooly mouthed torture!”


“Well, not me. I’m far too valuable.”

“You? You’re the most tattered of all! How much could you possibly be worth?”


“I’m worth thousands!!”


“H-how can it be?? Where did you get all that money?!”

“Through… favours.”


“What kind of favours, exactly?”


“…I’d rather not say.”


“Oh, so this is where you’ve been, big boy! Why don’t you come with me? Wish Bear needs some more wishes to come true…”


“Dear god, not again…”