View Full Version : Oscar Rat and the Aardvark Mafia. Adult 1,620

October 20th, 2014, 10:02 PM
Note: this story occurred before Oscar and Malodor Skunk were married.

"Sure, honey. Me and Nancy can go visit my mama for awhile," Malodor Skunk told her boyfriend, Oscar Rat, "I don't know why you have to make it an issue though. All this secret writing crap. It's about time I saw my parents anyway."

"It's writer stuff, baby," Oscar didn't want to explain, just wanted her out of the apartment for awhile. "Only for a week or two. Things should blow over by then."

"If you're really in danger, why not call the police? Why do you have to annoy anyone, anyway? You can write nice stories instead."

"A writer has a responsibility to scurry onto dangerous grounds occasionally, honey. I'll be all right, but it's better if you and Nancy leave until it's over."

"Oscar, honey. Doesn't writing for the Rat Archives earn you enough money? If it's as dangerous as you say, let someone like that worthless Charlie do it. Nobody'll miss him."

Teenage Nancy didn't want to leave. School was out for the summer and she had a new boyfriend. A real fox yet, literally. It took a lot of coaxing, but she finally left with Malodor.

After Oscar saw them off on a train to Florida, he returned to the apartment and his writing. Oscar was doing an exposť on the aardvark mafia. He was afraid they might get angry enough to hurt his family.

The aardvark mafia was involved in both running animal hookers and into selling protection to pet shops in the area. No pet store owner wanted to have crowds of aardvarks running around his store and scaring off customers. The connected aardvarks would wait until a store was crowded with customers, then invade by the dozens. They'd then open cages and crap on the floor, getting underfoot; anything to annoy the customers. The aardvarks would then sell the store's owners protection to keep it from happening again.

The mafia also had photos and videos of human politicians consorting with skunk hookers. The two occupations had a lot in common. One popular preacher had been threatened with exposure, paying them from money saved to fix the steeple of his church. A steeple the mafia had hired sewer rats to chew holes in. The mafia was into every evil and malicious endeavor in town.

It wasnít until they threatened to pee on Oscarís computer if he didnít pay them that he became angry. He didnít want any of the nasty creatures in his own apartment, around his family.

So the famous writing rat decided to do something about it. He approached the local newspaper with a query about writing a series of exposes.

"Well, I guess we could see it as a public service, Rat. Those creatures can be annoying. Right now, we're paying them $1000 a month not to swipe magic markers over magazines at our newsstands," the publisher told Oscar. "It's cheaper than hiring security guards for all the stands. And they did get rid of the mice for us."

The aardvarks had recently won a gang war against the mouse mafia for control of animal crime in the town.

"I'll get right on it, sir," Oscar told him.

The mafia found out. That morning, when Oscar was leaving his apartment, he almost stepped into a large pile of aardvark poop, right outside his door. The astute writer feared that it was a warning, a warning not to get involved. That only made the fearless rodent journalist angry. But first, he had to see that his family was safe. He felt he could take care of himself.


Leaving the train station, Oscar got right to work. The first thing he needed was evidence. For that, he went looking for witnesses to mafia atrocities. Of course, being Oscar, the first place he thought of was the local cat-house. Since they were run by the aardvarks, it was as good a place to start as any and more enjoyable than most. Itís manager, Kitty Kaat was a personal friend.

Oscar spent the morning and most of the afternoon interviewing hookers in their own quarters -- and he could bill it to the newspaper.

"Oh, yes, Millie, that feeeeellls good. Don't stop, honey. And how did you get started in this racket?"

"I lost my job at the cologne plant, baby. 'Sides, the pay was lousy and I wanted a non-spraying job,Ē the skunk girl told him. ďAble Ďthe Noseí Aardvark found out I needed work, and here I am. How bout I do this, babe?"

"Oooooh, yeaaa."

Interviewing all those girls was a demanding task involving no little sweat and effort, but the brave rodent persevered. He couldnít get any of them to speak on the record, or file charges, but he did get their stories and found out all the little tricks the aardvarks used. Oscar was one satisfied and worn-out little rodent by the time he arrived home.

It took him all night to type out his first article. It itemized everything he had found out at the cat-house, exposing the mafia's role in the animal prostitution racket. He made lists and told aardvark names, along with dates and methods. It would blow the lid off the aardvark mafia in that town.


Tired and groggy, Oscar hurried out the next morning, taking his article to the editor of the newspaper. Oscar was in such a hurry that the usually astute rodent missed a couple of vital actions.

He didnít notice a taxi pulling up to his apartment building. Or that it contained Malodor and Nancy -- home early from their visit.

"You should have called first, Aunt Malodor," Nancy Skunk said, pulling a large suitcase behind her while Malodor paid the cab-driver. "We wasted all that time."

"They never went on vacation before," Malodor said, carrying both their purses upstairs. "How was I to know they'd be spending all month in California?"

"Well, you should've."

"Shut up."

None of them saw a long black Ford ZooMaster parked across the street. It contained three well-dressed aardvark gangsters. They were waiting for Oscar to leave so they could trash his apartment. Without a computer, they figured he wouldnít be able to write his articles. The cowardly gangsters didnít want to accost the brave rat directly, somewhat afraid of his reputation as a fighter.

Malodor and Nancy Skunk reached the apartment, dropping their bags and warming up a leftover pizza in the microwave. They were in a bad mood from their wasted travels.

The front door slammed inward, the three gangsters coming in with baseball bats in hand, ready to smash.

"What you want?" Nancy asked, slice of pizza in hand.

"You broads stay out of it. Eat your crap and we won't hurt you."

"Crap! You don't break into my home and insult MY cooking, mister." Malodor stormed out of the kitchen, apron flapping. "Out!"

"Duh. Make us," one of them replied, the dumbest one. The dumbest one that had never taken on an angry skunk, that is.

"No! Harry, don't talk like tha...." another started to say while dropping his bat and turning around to run.

He was the only one to escape unscathed, as both Malodor and Nancy backed up, raised their tails to 47 degree angles, and let go.

Faces full of scent, eyes blistering and weeping, the other two gangsters ran full tilt into a wall outside the apartment. Getting to their feet, all three rapidly retreated.


Oscar spent the day in his office at the venerable Rat Archives, where he was a staff writer. He was frustrated by the slow pace of rewriting an ancient article about how to skin and cook Brontosauruses. It was written in Old Rat, on a dinosaur-skin scroll, and called for spices that simply haven't been available for hundreds of thousands of years -- very hard to translate. The Rat Archives held a copy of everything rats had written since long before hairless apes first fell out of trees and were too stupid to climb back up.

He was looking forward to his next article on the mafia. Oscar, being Oscar, had also made a phone call to Don Meesio of the mouse mafia, and stood to get a reward from them if he helped get the aardvarks out of town, or penned up.

Oscar found out about the home confrontation even before he reached his apartment. He could smell it two floors down. When he entered his apartment it was to see cans of deodorant sitting all over the corridor and in his home. The windows were all open to help air the place out.

ďWhy didnít you tell me, Oscar?Ē Malodor asked. ďUs skunks know what to do about those fiends. Iíll call on the Skunk Council to help out. We can have hundreds of skunks here in a day or so. Then we'll chase those nasty aardvarks out of town.Ē

Which is exactly what happened. The aardvarks couldnít stand long against a mob of angry skunks. The Skunk Council didnít care about humans, or even the rats, but hated someone taking advantage of other skunks.

With the aardvark mafia gone, Oscar lost his contract with the newspaper. He did make out all right financially, though.

Since the skunk hookers were free from aardvark control, the mouse mafia took over the skunk-houses and newsstands, paying Oscar a large bonus for his help. Also, having advance notice of the skunks coming to help, Oscar had floated a loan to buy all the spray deodorant in town before they arrived. He then sold it back to the same stores at a large profit to combat the odors of a stinking town.