By Ellie of Cameron & Smoothy
Smoothy – 10 October 2016
It’s early morning. Brilliant winter sun spills shadows over Rosengaard. Been here a few times, like I said before, I’ve been around. I’m on my way to one of those never-closed bars where you can do whatever you want, and others can do whatever they want to you. The Katacombs Klub. I’ll need to watch my back, but it’s a good place to find out what’s going on and safe enough for a kat like me. I’m totally not worried, padding down the street.
I was about to go inside when—“Hey Smooth.”
Can’t see who it is at first. Sun’s in my eyes.
“It’s me. Willie the Rat.”
“Hej, Willie. Been a while. Thought you were dead.”
“Not yet,” he says. “But not for lack of tryin’.”
Willie’s a Norwegian rat who fled to Sweden to avoid prosecution, or persecution over some kind of old cheese deal he made. He’s also wanted here, something about a passport—papers. Never asked him for the details. Better not to know. We did some business, couple years ago, but nothing big time.
“Looking for some action?”
“Looking to avoid someone who’s looking for me. Kind of like yourself,” I add. “But always curious. How ‘bout we go inside?”
It’s bark. My eyes had just adjusteb to the sun. I’m blind again, but now things start to come in focus. There’s some ominous pit bulls at a tadle chewing bones and talking—looking our way now.
“Keep moving,” Willie tells me.
A dozen kats are scattered here and there, some on the nod from too much nip. The others watch with blurry curiously. A pair of possums are doing sour apples at the end of the bar next to a bulldog, and a boxer— Pug I think his name is. Seen him around few times. There’s an empty space next to them and Willie seems to know the dogs. I’m not surprised.
“What up Snot?” He asks the bulldog.
“Not too much. You buyin?”
“Yeah, why not.”
We get sushi some and some ribs for the dogs, then share some Afghan nip which doesn’t seem to do much for the hounds.
“You boy’s lookin’ for something?” Snot asks.
“Maybe.” I say. “Right now we just want to be unnoticed.”
“This here’s Smoothy.” Willie introduces me to Snot, and Pug who’s staring at his dish as if it might give answers to his life.
“I well know everybody lookin for the Rat,” Snot tells me. “Who be after you?”
“Snot drops his bone. “She here?”
“Not yet. That’s what I need to know. If you hear anything— I’ll throw you a few bones for your effort.”
“I hope you don’t mean that bitch. Ellie? One from Borläng?” Pug comes back to life.
“Yeah. That’s the one.”
“Oh, man. You’re fucked. That bitch is bad. Went a few rounds with me, then disappeared. No forwarding address. She was hot, good lookin, but a little over weight. Good nose. She’ll track you down. She bit my ear.” He show’s me what’s left of a califlower ear. “She’s vicious, and she’ll find you. That’s what she does.”
“Nobody’s found me yet. I’m slicker than most, and smother than the rest. But keep your good ear open. Like I said, might be a T-bone in it for you.”