Kurt's idea of volunteering at the animal shelter may not have been the best idea.
(#00158)
“Any previous experience?”
“Ja, I helped rehabilitate a few animals back home,” said Kurt. He decided not to mention the pet raven, deer, squirrels or the nearly-tame wolf. “I’m very good with them.”
“Nothing… professional?”
“Eh… Heirelgart is a little bit… isolated. We had a traveling vet and a traveling doctor. We learned to help ourselves, ne? For a time, I *was* the vet.”
“Mm.” Shuffle shuffle, went the papers on the lady’s desk. “Well, you can start by cleaning out the cages and helping customers.”
“Wunderbar! You won’t regret this!”
*
Kurt was efficient, which was a bonus. The animals loved him, which was also a bonus. What was not a bonus, Alexis discovered, was the kid was a circus brat.
He trained every animal he could to do tricks.
He put on shows.
People were coming to watch, and then left.
Rich brats bought circus pets, and came back the next day when their inevitable mistreatment backfired.
Kids from the wrong side of town started coming in for god-damned lessons.
Sure, Kurt bought in business. He also bought in news people and protesters and vagrants. He tamed the wounded wild animals people brought in. If there was a day that he didn’t have some fluffy animal sitting on his shoulder, it was a calendar event.
And his efforts to save animals from being put down were, frankly, heroic. Just as the grief from his failure to do so was… epic.
The final nail, though, was the Brotherhood Boardinghouse boys. Once they found out Kurt was working there, they made it their business to come by and harass him, the customers, the animals, and any other volunteer who showed their face while they were around. Kurt, apparently used to it, locked up the more sensitive beasts for their own safety the instant he heard the Brotherhood Boys’ dilapidated Jeep.
They were a disruption of the worst kind. The kind who knew exactly where the line was drawn and toed it with forensic precision. The kind who knew police response times and left before the cops showed up.
The people who came for the circus were upset. The people who came to adopt an animal were upset. The other volunteers were upset. The animals, sensitive to moods, were in an uproar.
A biker gang showed up, once, to block the Brotherhood Boys. That, too, ended in a news article for all the wrong reasons.
“And that’s why we appreciate your help, but we’d prefer you don’t come here any more,” finished Alexis.
“But…. what about Scruffy? And all the others?”
And there were a lot of “all” the others. “The circus will continue with the other volunteers you trained. Scruffy will be fine.”
She’d never seen a kid sag so much in her life. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”
Somehow, two weeks after that, the Brotherhood Boys turned up again. Metaphorical hats in hand.
“Um,” said the bandy little one. “We wanna say we’re sorry, yo. We gotta thing wit’ fuz— Kurt. Andum. We wanna help the animals.”
“I can carry heavy things?” said the big one. “I’m good with heavy things.”
“I’ll keep ‘em in line, ma’am,” said the driver, a teenage delinquent with a greasy mullet and a permanent cigarette. “I promise.”
Alexis stared at the four of them. “What prompted this massive change of heart?”
“HegotKittywhipped,” said the albino.
*
Some hours previously…
“Lance Percival Alvers,” shrieked Kitty. “Do you have any idea what you and your thugs have done?”
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