%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |
A tale of Planet Mizzer where humans and Humanimals live like the 90s never ended! |
| [Introduction]
A Mizzer Educational Filmstrip for Elementary Students "This is the story of how humans created us Humanimals and how we came to Planet Mizzer! Long ago during the summer of 1998 a strange crystal meteorite landed in Griffith Park in California! When the humans approached the strange glowing crystal they discovered any animal touched by its beams of light would transform...Standing on its hind legs, gaining hands with opposable thumbs small species would often become bigger and most importantly they became more intelligent and able to speak human languages! Well the human scientists took the crystal and tested it on all kinds of animals and discovered nearly any animal could be transformed into a Humanimal with the exceptions of creatures without brains and faces like sea sponges and jellyfish and hive insects like ants and bees they discovered you can't give personhood to a single ant or bee anymore than you can to a single skin cell. Then in the year 2002 a group of humans calling themselves the Neo-Hippies left Earth like the Pilgrims searching for a better life. They took with them in their mountain sized spaceship seven males and seven females of just about every species and breed of Humanimal they could they flew toward a wormhole a once in a thousand years astrological event that would take them to the opposite side of the Milky Way to the New Land of Milk and Honey... And there they awakened their freshly made Humanimals from their pods the Humanimals then set out and would create their own town to the east of each human town the Humanimals divided themselves into different districts, each Humanimal Town is dived like so... In the very center are the Domestic Dog and Domestic Cat Districts divided along the diagonal, the inner circle contains the following three districts, to the North the Livestock Mammal District containing all the breeds of Barnyard Mammal, to the Southeast the Woodland Mammal District containing mammals native the Europe and North America and to the Southwest the Tropical Mammal District containing exotic mammals native to every where else, then the outer ring with the Bird District to the North and the Reptile/Amphibian District to the South, the Fish and other 'Water Peoples' like the Cetaceans went to live in Mizzer's various waterways where they can keep themselves comfortably wet and the Insect People live in separate towns underground. We should always be grateful to our glorious creators the humans for uplifting us from ordinary animals so that we may also have the joys of speech and culture!" Now you might have some questions about what you just read...This story takes place 15 years before the 'Wrangler Invasion' event in most of my fanfiction and fictionpress stories so we won't meet any of the usual characters Some rules You may play either a human or Humanimal character If you do play a Humanimal aside from the species mentioned above who can't be made into Humanimals Mizzer does not have Mystical Species like dragons and unicorns and no prehistoric species like dinosaurs like only animals available to people of the 1990s (For a certain someone I'm willing to 'fudge' and say a Dire Wolf might be born to normal wolves because of a super rare mutation making them a 'genetic throwback' if you will) Mizzer has existed for five thousand years with no new Humanimals being created from normal animals (Despite normal animals existing on farms and zoos, they didn't seem to take the transforming crystal with them) at this point in history all Humanimals have been born anthropomorphic for five thousand years and several distinct 'family clans' have been established OK and finally Mizzer's western continent has been slowly trying to remake the United States but seems to be obfuscating by calling the states 'Counties' and nearly every place has a Plant/Nature themed name like Oregon is Rosewood County and Portland is Rosella and so on and so forth |
| OK let's start by introducing our characters Name: Nightshade Silkfur Sex: Female Age: 14 Species: Domestic Cat ((Felis catus) Breed: Bombay Favorite Music: Classic Rock Favorite Food: Seared Tuna Favorite Book: Sideways Stories from Wayside School by Louis Sachar Hometown: Rosella of Rosewood County Appearance: Delicate and Slender Black Cat-Girl with emerald green eyes, is not one of the Humanimals who got the genes for long Human-like 'head-fur' on her scalp so to make up for what she sees as a defect she often wears an 'Egyptian style' golden Headband (Really it's made of plastic) Bio: Nightshade is a very typical upper middle class Cat-Girl, her Dad has a respectable office job and her Mom is a homemaker...And she sees them as complete and utter duds! She's beginning to suspect her parents don't have good ideas when they tell her she must never set foot outside the Cat District without an adult not even to the next door Cat District 'Who knows what those brutes would do to a delicate young cat like you?' When the PSAs on the TV made by the humans they're supposed to listen to say Prejudice is bad and Mizzer's homemade television shows (i.e. things that aren't 20th century reruns) show different species of Humanimals being friends. Lately Nightshade has been working on a secret plan to follow her dream to become a rock star, to sneak out of the house and run away down south to New Hollywood (The first colonized area that is equivalent to California never got an official county name for some reason most just call it 'The First Land' to audition for Animal Idol where Humanimals of all species are welcome to sing their hearts out and be judged by notorious that Dog-Man Simon Puggerson! |
| Name: Ozzy Ozzford Sex: Male Age: 17 Species: Vampire Bat Favorite Music: Rock and Metal Favorite Food: A+ Blood Favorite Book: Doesn't really read very often Hometown: New Bristol Appearance: Models himself after legendary human rockstar, Ozzy Osbourne. Typically dresses in black with piercings in his left ear. Bio: Ozzy dreams of becoming a big time musician like his idol. Yes, he's well aware of the irony of a bat admiring and dressing as the original Ozzy. He has his own band comprised of his high school friends, and they're hoping to win Animal Idol to help launch their career. |
| One night during Summer Vacation, Nightshade packed her backpack with bits of food like jerky and enough of her saved up allowance to pay for a greyhound bus...Oh yes...She had been planning this for a long time! She opened up her bedroom window, she was on the 2nd floor but she was not afraid, she jumped out the window and as a cat she turned gracefully in midair and landed on her feet. Perfect landing! She bowed to an imaginary audience. |
| Name: Charles "Chuck" Jones Gender: Male Age: 18 Species: Human Music: Country Food: Buffalo-styled Chicken Wings Favorite Book: Redwall saga Hometown: New Buffalo Bio: Chuck dreams of getting involved in animation. He has ideas that, honestly, wouldn't be the sort that would be for family viewing. He works on roughs in private. He wonders what else he can do. |
| Name: Zandros (Zan) Pryde Sex: Male Age: 18 Species: Liger (Panthera leo) Favorite Music: Blend of hard rock and alternative rock (Huge fan of Chris Cornell) Favorite Food: Barbecued Horse Steaks Favorite Book: "The Brothers Gruff"  Hometown: Mechanic’s Row, Sagebrush County Appearance: Zandros stands out the moment he enters a room; tall and powerfully built, with a lean but muscular frame that reflects both his tiger stealth and lion strength. His fur is a deep, glossy black inherited from his mother Ariela, patterned with striking gold stripes, a rare fusion of his lineage. His eyes are a sharp amber, almost glowing in certain light, often unreadable but always intense. His mane is a wild, untamed halo of darker fur, hinting more lion than tiger, though faint streaks of bronze shimmer through it. He typically wears rugged, grease-stained work clothes when helping his father at the garage, but favors simple earth-tone layers and hoodies when he's out trying not to attract attention, despite the fact that he always does. Bio: Before he was a mechanic or a father, Kesar was a lion of strength, speed, and ambition. Born into a proud family in Sagebrush County, he was a local sports legend a rising star on the high school football field. Scouts whispered his name. Coaches built entire plays around him. He was set to inherit not only his father’s construction empire but also the respect of a community that saw him as royalty in the making. And then he met Ariela. A rare black tiger with unmatched grace and fire, Ariela was a cheerleader contending for the captain’s spot. She had a commanding presence fierce, driven, elegant and when their eyes met under the Friday night lights, something unspoken passed between them. In a world where species lines were rarely crossed, their chemistry was electric…and dangerous. In the Humanimal world, there’s an unspoken law: Lions stay with Lions. Tigers stay with Tigers. Cross-species romances are discouraged, not only out of tradition but fear. Mixed offspring often don’t survive stillbirths, deformities, heartbreak. Everyone knows the stories. Everyone’s heard the warnings. At first, Kesar and Ariela resisted. They chalked up their connection to coincidence, nothing more. But they kept running into each other at school events, at local gatherings, at quiet places they thought only they knew. Over time, resistance gave way to stolen moments, and stolen moments gave way to love. Their decision to be together came at a cost. Kesar was disinherited his younger brother, Jabari, took over the family construction business. His football prospects dried up as whispers spread. Ariela, too, was cast out by her family an honored bloodline embarrassed by her choice. With no one to turn to, the couple built a new life from scratch. They moved to the outskirts of New Hollywood and opened a small garage, fixing vehicles by day, staying up late dreaming of a family that might never be. Ariela became pregnant several times, but the babies never lived. Each loss carved deeper scars. The Lion and the Tiger community both took it as proof that their love was unnatural. But then...Zandros was born. Their miracle child. The only known Liger in 4000 years. He survived, and he thrived. ~ ~ ~ Zandros grew fast and strong, taller than any Humanimal his age, broader, heavier, unmatched in strength. Yet with his power came pain. Other children avoided him, mimicking their parents’ fear and judgment. Adults spoke in hushed tones. Teachers grew nervous when he answered too loudly or clenched his fists. He lived in a world that both created him and wished he hadn’t been born. Now, at 18, Zandros walks the line between pride and solitude. His story is not one of shame, but one of survival, strength, and quiet defiance. Zandros grew up in the oil stained streets of Mechanic’s Row, a working-class stretch just outside of New Hollywood in Sagebrush County. From the time he could lift a wrench, he was helping his father, Kesar, repair engines, tune bikes, and rebuild vintage solar trucks in the family run garage. The garage is more than a job; it’s a legacy. It’s where he learned focus, discipline, and the unspoken bond between father and son. But while his hands grew skilled with tools, his heart was always somewhere else. Zandros writes in the quiet hours; song lyrics scribbled in grease-marked notebooks, poems written on the back of invoices, stories dreamed up during lunch breaks. Music is his secret language. The world rarely gives him the space to speak freely, so he pours it into chords and verses. He’s taught himself to play an old, battered guitar left behind in the shop’s back room, tuning it with the same precision he uses on engines. |
| Ozzy and his band were finally ready. They loaded all their equipment and themselves into the old van they had each spent months saving up to buy, filled the gas tank as full as it could be, and hit the road to New Hollywood. It would be a long trip, but they knew it would would be worth it. They would take turns driving, with Ozzy being the first. "Well guys, we're finally on our way!" He said as they pulled out of the driveway and began their road trip. "All those times we spent practicing and rehearsing are finally about to pay off!" Luna, a female white cat and the band's drummer, spoke up. "I sure hope so. I'd be really pissed if this all turned out to be for nothing." |
| As Nightshade made her way to Rosella's bus station she kept her eyes and ears on alert, she knew the warning about being out at night, that's when one of Mizzer's native animals the Wandering Howlers came out...Imaging something like a lizard with the body of a big cat, has large frills like a frilled lizard and droopy snoot like a moose but it's not an herbivore there fangs hidden underneath...It's secret weapon is its ultrasonic 'howl' that seems the paralyze its prey with fright! And it seems ever since the Earthlings landed on Mizzer's these Wandering Howlers have found they liked Humanimals fattened on human junk food tastier than their native prey... That's what Humanimal parents always warn their children about being out alone late at night, but Nightshade reassured herself that nowadays like ordinary bears and cougars did on Earth Wandering Howlers never came this deep into civilization anymore particularly in the lowlands |
| Chuck was at his new apartment. He was waiting for his food, a container of Buffalo chicken wings, to be delivered. The delivery driver seemed to be running late. |
| Zandros sat cross-legged on his bed, scribbling into his weathered notebook, his Discman humming in his ears. Chris Cornell’s voice from Superunknown filled the room, aching and powerful, echoing through his bones like scripture. “Stuttering, cold and damp Steal the warm wind, tired friend...” As always, Black Hole Sun pulled him under, into that strange, haunting world of distorted guitars and raw truths. He mouthed the words at first, then started to sing along his voice rough but honest. “Hang my head, drown my fear 'Til you all just disappear...” He didn’t hear the creak of the door. Didn’t sense the heavy footsteps behind him. Not until a firm tap on his shoulder made him jump. He yanked the headphones off in a panic and turned. His father stood there Kesar, towering and broad-shouldered, arms folded across his grease-streaked overalls. His golden eyes, so much like Zandro’s own, were clouded with disappointment. Zandros blinked. “Hey... Dad. Didn’t realize you were standing there.” “Clearly.” Kesar’s voice was calm, but tight. “Why weren’t you in the shop today?” Zandros rubbed a hand down his face. His heart sank. Inventory day. “I’m sorry,” he said, closing the notebook. “I just lost track of time after I got home.” “You can’t be irresponsible like this, Zandros.” His father’s tone hardened. “You think you can run a business if you flake on your responsibilities? Customers won’t wait around for someone who forgets to show up.” Zandros looked away, jaw clenched. He’d heard this before. A hundred times. “I don’t want to take over the family business, Dad.” Kesar stared at him. A long silence stretched between them like a chasm. “What did you say?” he asked quietly. “I don’t want it. The garage. The tools. The engines. It’s your dream, not mine. I want to write. I want to make music.” His voice cracked with conviction. His father’s expression didn’t change. But something shifted in the air between them. A storm brewing not of anger, but of disappointment and heartbreak. “You think music’s gonna pay your bills?” Kesar said, low. “You think songs are gonna fix a busted axle or feed a family?” “I think music’s the only thing that makes me feel real,” Zandros shot back. “The shop’s not who I am. I help you because I love you, but that doesn’t mean I want to be you.” Kesar didn’t yell. He didn’t slam a door or raise a fist. He just turned and walked out, slow and silent. Zandros sat back down, the room suddenly too quiet. He stared at his notebook with unfinished lyrics staring back like a question he didn’t know how to answer. |
| On their way to New Hollywood, Ozzy and the bad encountered their first real obstacle to stardom. A traffic jam. "Oh, this is just perfect." Said Shiv, the band's bass player and timber wolf. "You would think with how much technology has advanced, this wouldn't be a problem anymore." "You'd think so, but nope." Ozzy said, trying to keep his frustration in check as he focused on driving. |
| When Nightshade reached the Greyhound bus station at the border area where the Cat District met both the Woodland Mammal district and the Livestock Strict, there was a Bald Dumbo Rat at the desk yawning (Domestic or 'Fancy' Mice and Rats shared the Woodland Mammal District with their wild cousins as there just wasn't enough room to make a district for Pocket Pets) "One ticket for New Hollywood please." The Cat-Girl said The Rat-Man sniffed and scratched his throat "Wait a minute..." He said "...How old are you?" Nightshade's hackles stood up under her hoodie and she bared her teeth "Look Rat, don't question my business!" Of course, there was no fear that Nightshade was going to kill and eat the Rat-Man that was unthinkable! The ultimate descent into unevolved animal barbarism that the Humanimals strove to evolve beyond but there was constant referencing to where one stood on the food chain as Humanimals jockeyed for social power! The Rat-Man shrugged he had seen runaway teenagers before, but he also knew Humanimals because they mentally mature faster than their human counterparts are able to survive on their own better than human runaways. "If you want to 'Go Maverick' that's none of my business..." He said as he handed her the ticket Going Maverick is the term for Humanimals who do what is unusual often going to live on 'the human side' and Humanimals who decide to go to New Hollywood and become celebrities are also thought of as Mavericks |
| Soon enough, the doorbell rang. Chuck went and opened the door. There was the driver, with their order. "Thank you," Chuck said, accepting his food, making sure to leave the driver a nice tip. Drivers and the like lived on tips. That was what his folks said. |
| Kesar wiped his hands on an old rag, the scent of oil and rubber still thick in his nose. He stood outside Zandros’s bedroom door for a long moment before walking down the hall to the kitchen, every step slow, heavy. The overhead light flickered slightly as it always did when the AC kicked in, but he barely noticed. His mind was somewhere else. I don’t want the family business, Dad. The words replayed in his head on a loop, stinging more than they should have. He sat down at the kitchen table, the same one where he and Ariela used to sit late at night, whispering about baby names and futures that didn’t look like this. He picked up her photo from the shelf. In it, Ariela was smiling, her jet-black fur catching the light just so, golden eyes full of mischief. The same gold that burned in Zandros. Kesar sighed. “He’s just like you, you know. Stubborn. Head full of stars and dreams.” He chuckled softly, but there was no joy in it. “You would’ve backed him. You’d say, ‘Let the boy sing, Kes. Let him find his own roar.’ But you’re not here.” He leaned back in the chair, the wood creaking beneath his weight. The garage hadn’t been just a business it had been his salvation. After losing his scholarship, the shop gave him purpose. It gave him a legacy to build, something real. He had dreamed of handing Zandros the keys one day. Of standing beside him at the workbench. Of watching his boy fix an engine with the same confidence he had when scoring a touchdown, back before everything got complicated. But now? Now, his son wanted a different future. Not built with tools and torque, but with strings and stanzas. Kesar ran his hand through his thick mane and exhaled deeply. “You’d know what to say to him,” he whispered to Ariela’s photo. “You always knew how to speak that language.” The old lion stood, slowly. His knees creaked like overused gears. He grabbed a mug from the cabinet and filled it with water, staring out the window at the fading sunlight. “Maybe I’m the one who’s off track. Maybe I forgot that dreams don’t always come with grease on their hands.” He looked back toward Zandros’s room, where muffled guitar chords leaked beneath the door. After a moment, Kesar opened a kitchen drawer, rummaged past the usual clutter, and pulled out something wrapped in a soft cloth; an old leather guitar pick Ariela used to keep from her high school days. She’d saved it, saying one day their kid might want to learn. He never took it seriously. Until now. He looked at it for a long time. Then he turned and walked back toward his son’s room. He didn’t knock this time. ~ ~ ~ Zandros leaned forward on his bed, guitar resting against his knee, the screen of his old TV casting flickering light across his dark-furred face. The Animal Idol logo danced on the screen in neon letters while dramatic music played behind a voice-over. “Do you have the chops to make it big? Are you the next voice of Mizzer? Come to the Grand Avenue Coliseum in New Hollywood and sing your heart out for a panel of star-studded judges, including the notorious Simon Puggerson! Open auditions this weekend!” Zandros grinned slightly, something electric rising in his chest but then it sank as fast as it had risen. There’s no way he’d ever go for this, he thought. Not when I couldn’t even get out of inventory for a day without disappointing him. He turned the volume down just as a commercial for some new burger place started, leaning back on his bed with a sigh. The door creaked open. Zandros jolted upright, guitar nearly slipping off his lap. “Dad?” Kesar stepped inside, the doorway framing his broad figure like a lion-shaped mountain. But he didn’t look angry. He wasn’t wearing the usual scowl that followed their disagreements. Instead, his eyes held something quieter. Thoughtful. “Commercial break?” Kesar said, nodding toward the TV. Zandros blinked. “Uh...yeah. Just flipping channels.” Kesar stepped further in, something in his hand. “Saw something about that… singing show. Animal Idol, right?” Zandros’s throat went dry. “Yeah. It’s just...I mean… nothing. Just a show.” Kesar was silent for a moment. Then, he walked over and sat beside Zandros on the bed, letting out a long exhale. “I used to think your path was gonna look just like mine,” Kesar said slowly. “Wrench in one hand, grease on your arms, shop full of customers who respected your work. I thought I was giving you something solid. Something safe.” Zandros didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t. He just listened. Kesar opened his paw and held out the object he’d brought. A worn leather guitar pick, weathered and smooth, its edges softened by time. “This belonged to your mother,” he said. “She kept it tucked in the pages of her old poetry book. Said one day she’d pass it on.” Zandros took it with trembling fingers, staring at it like it was a relic from another world. “She believed in following what made your heart catch fire. I think… maybe I forgot how important that is.” Zandros looked up at his father, eyes wide. “You’re… not mad?” “I’m still your dad,” Kesar said. “I’m gonna worry. I’m gonna push you sometimes, probably harder than I should. But I see you, Zan. You don’t light up when you're under a hood. You light up when you sing. I may not understand it...but I hear it.” Zandros swallowed the lump in his throat. “The auditions are this weekend.” Kesar smiled faintly, then stood and ruffled Zandros’s mane like he used to when he was a cub. “Then I guess we’d better get the truck tuned up. Got a long ride to New Hollywood.” Zandros grinned, emotions swirling in his chest like a storm. For the first time in a long time, the space between them didn’t feel like a canyon. It felt like a bridge. |
| After waiting what seemed like an eternity in traffic, Ozzy and the band were back on the road. Shank, the band's keyboard player and a doberman, soon started to grow hungry. "Man, only a few hours on the road and I'm already starving! What did we pack to eat?" It was then that the realization hit them. They had been in such a rush to hit the road, they completely overlooked packing food for the three-day trip! Ozzy swore loudly, ready to start banging his head on the steering wheel. Already this trip was off on a bad note! |
| Nightshade got on the Greyhound bus to New Hollywood there weren't many other passengers at this late hour just two other cats, two dogs and a pig. Finally tired because she hadn't been able to get any sleep, Nightshade curled up on a seat near the back and fell into a surprisingly deep sleep... |
| Chuck then got a notification. His new job was going to send him to New Hollywood, in 48 hours. "Well, that's interesting." |
| The old pickup rumbled along the freeway under a sky bruised purple with twilight. The silhouette of New Hollywood glittered faintly in the distance, a mirage of bright lights and bigger dreams. In the cab, the silence between Kesar and Zandros was comfortable, broken only by the soft whirr of tires and the gentle strum of classic rock humming low from the radio. Zandros sat in the passenger seat, guitar case at his feet, fingers absentmindedly tapping a rhythm on his thigh. He glanced sideways at his father, who had that far-off look he sometimes got when he was swimming in memory. “You know,” Kesar said suddenly, his voice low and a little raspy, “your mom...she got kicked off the cheerleading squad senior year.” Zandros blinked. “Really?” Kesar chuckled, the sound dry. “Yeah. After we went public with our relationship, some of the squad mostly parents behind the scenes pushed the school board to remove her. Said it sent ‘the wrong message.’” Zandros frowned. “That’s messed up.” “She didn’t let it break her. That was the thing about Ariela.” Kesar’s voice softened. “She didn’t back down, even when the whole world told her to. She told me...if we were gonna be shunned, then fine we’d build our own space. Together.” He paused, glancing at the road ahead. “She loved music, too. Would sing to me while I worked under the hood. Said the sound of a well-tuned engine was like harmony to her.” Zandros smiled at that, clutching the worn guitar pick she’d once owned, now tucked safely in his pocket. “She’s the one who got the idea to start the garage,” Kesar continued. “Saw how I could fix anything with a motor, said I shouldn’t be swinging a hammer for someone else’s blueprint.” Just then, they passed a massive billboard: PRYDE CONSTRUCTION: BUILDING MIZZER'S FUTURE, featuring a photo of a polished, grinning lion in a business suit holding a hard hat. The words CEO: Jabari Pryde loomed in bold underneath. Zandros turned his head, brow furrowing. “That’s...Uncle Jabari, right?” Kesar’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “Yeah. That’s him.” Zandros shifted in his seat. “So...what was Grandpa like? I mean, your dad?” Kesar exhaled, deep and long. The silence stretched a beat too long before he answered. “That’s a conversation for another day.” Zandros didn’t push. He could feel the wall go up in his father’s voice solid, guarded. But he made a mental note. There were roots he didn’t know yet. Pieces of the past that might one day help him make sense of who he was now. The truck hit a dip in the road, and the two of them rocked gently in their seats. The skyline of New Hollywood grew brighter on the horizon. “You nervous?” Kesar asked, glancing over. Zandros smirked faintly. “Terrified.” “Good,” Kesar said. “Means it matters.” They drove on into the neon-lit night, the quiet between them now rich with understanding two lions from different worlds, trying to find their place in the same story. ~ ~ ~ The lights of New Hollywood bled across the windshield like a living thing; neon reds and golds flickering across Zandros’s fur as he leaned his head against the passenger window. The hum of the engine and the occasional sputter of the turn signal were the only sounds now. Kesar hadn’t spoken in a while, and Zandros didn’t mind. Some silences felt heavy. This one felt...sacred. He traced a fingertip along the edge of his guitar case, feeling the worn scratches, the chipped corner, the sticker Ariela had put on it when he first started learning: “Play it like your soul's on fire.” His heart thudded with nerves, but underneath it all, something steadier was growing. This wasn’t just a shot at a stage or a spotlight; it was a step toward something he’d always kept tucked away. Something real. A part of him still heard his dad’s voice in his head; the old version of it, the one that only spoke in oil changes and inventory sheets. But then...tonight had been different. His dad drove him here. That wasn’t nothing. Zandros let his breath fog the window, then wrote his initials in the mist absently: Z.P. A name that felt like a question mark more often than not. A Liger, the only one of his kind. Too much lion for the tigers. Too much tiger for the lions. Too big, too strong, too different. A lifetime of being the wrong answer in a world full of rules no one could explain. He closed his eyes for a moment, hearing again his mom’s laugh from a half remembered memory; strong, musical, full of fight. She would’ve been here. She would’ve painted posters, made him tea to soothe his voice, and told him to burn the stage down with truth. “Mom,” he whispered under his breath, “I hope you’re watching.” As they turned off the freeway, the Coliseum came into view. It rose like a monument; grand, glowing, and alive with the buzz of hundreds of dreamers like him. A long line was already forming around the block, some Humanimals holding guitars, some with keyboards or speakers, all of them sharing one thing: Hope. Zandros sat up a little straighter. Kesar glanced over. “You ready?” Zandros stared out at the waiting crowd, heart pounding, paws slightly trembling. Then he nodded. “Yeah...I think I am.” |
| Making an impromptu stop, the band stocked up on enough food to last for the trip to New Hollywood and back. "Okay, are we absolutely sure we have everything now?" Ozzy asked, barley containing his frustration. Everybody nodded, and once again they were off on the road. "I swear, if one more thing happens on this trip to delay us..." He growled as they pulled onto a freeway. His anger was understandable, but his bandmates thought it better to keep quiet for now. Other than the sound of food wrappers and the van's engine, the trip was silent. |
| When Nightshade finally awoke, she had arrived at her destination. As she got off the bus she checked the amount of money she had left, enough for a very cheap motel room! She quickly found one such motel, the clerk was an old human woman with a beehive hairdo and horn-rimmed glasses, and she was smoking a cigarette... (Nightshade as a Humanimal with a sensitive nose had no idea how humans could smoke those stinky things!) She quickly paid for her room which was on the first level so no need to climb any stairs, she sat on the bed and had a quick breakfast of beef jerky and water. |
| One might call it annoying to leave a new apartment, but, at least it had been a company one. No lease to break at any rate. |
| The car door creaked as Zandros stepped out into the cool evening air. A rush of scents hit his nose; street food, engine oil, and something electric, like the anticipation that always came before a thunderstorm. He could feel it crackling in his fur. The Coliseum loomed above him, draped in banners for Animal Idol. Bright screens looped footage of past winners singing birds, belting gorillas, even a beatboxing kangaroo. They all looked confident, alive, like they belonged up there. Zandros tightened his grip on his guitar case. He turned to his father, who had stepped out of the car but remained leaning against it, arms crossed. The older lion didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked at him with something unreadable in his amber eyes. “You got everything?” Kesar finally asked, voice low. Zandros nodded. “Yeah.” Kesar hesitated. “Remember...you're not just singing. You’re showing them who you are.” Zandros swallowed. “You think they’ll listen?” Kesar looked away for a moment, then back. “They’d be fools not to.” Zandros smiled faintly, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Thanks, Dad.” The two shared a silent moment. Then, with a breath, Zandros turned toward the line forming at the entrance. He walked past a parrot warming up his scales, a panda tuning her electric violin, a pair of meerkat twins practicing a dance routine. Each of them had the same look in their eyes nervous, excited, hungry. A volunteer handed him a clipboard with a registration form. “Name?” she asked. “Zandros Pryde,” he said. Her eyebrows lifted briefly at the last name, but she didn’t comment. “Category?” “Solo. Acoustic.” She nodded and pointed to a roped off waiting area. “You’re group seven. First round’s two minutes. Play something that gets their attention. If you pass, you go on to the callback round tomorrow. Good luck.” Zandros thanked her and took his seat among a sea of competitors. Around him, voices rose in warm ups, laughter, nerves. He kept his head down, scribbling a few lines into his notebook, refining the lyrics to a song he'd been working on in secret something his mom would’ve loved. Minutes passed. The waiting grew harder. Every announcement of a name made his pulse spike. But as he opened his guitar case and brushed his claws across the worn strings, a strange calm settled over him. He thought of Ariela’s voice humming lullabies, Kesar’s hands showing him how to change brake pads, the long nights under the stars where he whispered songs into the dark just to feel less alone. Then his name was called. “Zandros Pryde? You’re up.” He stood, adjusted his guitar strap, and walked toward the doors that led to the audition stage. As they opened, a flood of light poured out. The heat of it hit his face. He stepped inside, blinded for a heartbeat. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear the murmur of the judges. |
| It had been a long trip, thankfully without further delays, but the band finally arrived at their destination. They signed up with the other acts, and waited amongst the other contestants. It would be a lie to say they weren't nervous. But at the same time, they felt excitement! This was their big chance! All those countless hours practicing together in the garage were fianlly about to pay off! Even if they didn't win, they at least would be known now. |
| As Neko stood in line looking at all the different Humanimals she tried not to let her nervousness show and tried to focus and instead look at the poster of the three celebrity judges aside from Simon Puggerson there was a human woman who's name she could not remember, and a Pig-Man named Robert Porkos. 'Well...' Nightshade thought '...Here I am surrounded by all kinds of Humanimals and not one of them are doing anything to me...Mom and Dad always said if I set foot into any of the other districts alone then something bad would happen to me' She remembered as a Kitten asking 'What will they kill me?' and her parents squirmed knowing they didn't know exactly what would happen they just kept saying it out of tradition 'Just stay in the Cat District!' They hissed |
| The Coliseum loomed like a beacon in the night; its glowing panels pulsing softly with the rhythm of the music inside. Kesar leaned against the hood of his old pickup truck, arms folded across his chest, ears twitching with every sound that managed to bleed through the walls. He couldn’t hear the lyrics clearly, but the energy...the energy was unmistakable. It was Zandros. He knew his son’s voice like the engine of an old car; deep, rumbling, raw with soul and emotion. He closed his eyes, letting the vibrations roll over him. Kesar had spent his whole life with tools in his hands, grease in his fur, and the weight of duty pressing down on his shoulders. The shop was predictable. Tangible. You knew when a belt was slipping. You could see when a piston needed replacing. But this? This world Zandros belonged to? Music, dreams, audiences, rejection, praise; it was chaos. No torque wrench could fix a broken note. No manual could teach a kid how to face a crowd and bare his soul. And yet...Kesar had never heard anything more certain than the sound of his son’s voice echoing faintly from within that building. He ran a paw across the scar on his forearm, an old wound from an engine explosion back when the shop was just starting. Ariela had bandaged it. She’d scolded him for being careless and kissed the spot right after. She always believed in more than just nuts and bolts. She saw the heart in things. And she saw this; what Zandros could become, long before Kesar ever did. A breeze passed through the parking lot, warm and humid with the breath of New Hollywood. Kesar looked up just in time to see a couple of young performers walking by, chatting animatedly in hushed tones. They were still in costume; one a brilliant red cardinal, the other a sleek grey panther. They barely noticed him. Just another old lion in the shadow of the Coliseum. He smiled faintly to himself. Let them overlook me. My cub is on that stage. He caught the tail end of a rising note, loud enough now to send a shiver across his shoulders. Zandros had reached the climax of whatever song he chose. Kesar couldn’t help but close his eyes again and picture it: Zandros, head tilted back, mane wild, gold stripes catching the light like a sunburst. His claws wrapped around the mic stand the way Kesar would grip a torque wrench; steady, sure. His voice filling the space, not afraid, not holding back. Pride bloomed in his chest; not the old, heavy kind tied to legacy or expectations. This was lighter. Fiercer. The kind of pride that comes from watching someone find themselves in real time. And just then, Kesar whispered to the night, to the stars, maybe to her: “He’s doing it, Ari. He’s doing it.” The Coliseum roared with applause inside.  ~  ~Inside the Grand Avenue Coliseum, the last note of Zandros's performance still hung heavy in the air like smoke after a fire. The crowd was frozen for a heartbeat stunned, breath held before erupting into raucous applause. Some stood. Others shouted his name. But all eyes were on the lone Liger standing tall in the spotlight, clutching the mic like it had anchored him through a storm. At the judges’ table, Simon Puggerson, the sharply dressed bulldog with a biting wit and reputation to match, sat unmoving. His ears twitched, but his expression was unreadable. He finally leaned forward, paws folded over his notes, his voice cool and deliberate: “Well, I was certain this was going to be another overconfident rocker roar with no control. You walk out, all muscle and mane, and I thought, ‘Here we go, another cliché.’” He paused, letting that simmer. “But I was wrong. You didn’t just sing. You told us something. You peeled your chest open and let us hear your life. That kind of honesty?” “That’s rare. That’s dangerous. And I don’t say this often, but...well done.” Zandros gave a modest nod, blinking rapidly, the applause still ringing in his ears. Next, Paula Amberstone, the lone human on the panel and a former pop ballad icon with a soft voice and warm eyes, leaned into her mic. “Zandros...I saw your heart when you sang. It wasn’t just the voice it was how you stood, how you looked out into the crowd like you were singing to ghosts and dreams and memories all at once.” She smiled gently. “There’s something deeply real about you. And I think people need that now more than ever. Keep showing up like that, and you won’t just be heard you’ll be felt.” Zandros swallowed, his throat tight. He looked down at the scuffed stage floor, then back at her with a quiet nod. Finally, Robert Porkos, a heavyset pig-man in sunglasses and a bright checkered blazer, leaned back in his chair with a theatrical sigh. “Man. You know, I was ready to hit the buzzer the second you walked out big, cats don’t always bring subtlety. They bring growl, volume, drama.” He wagged a hoof like finger. “But you...you brought grit. Real, aching, earned grit. It sounded like pain layered in poetry. I didn’t think a young guy like you had that much to say.” He chuckled, scratching his chin with a hoof. “But maybe I’m getting old. Or maybe you’re just the real deal.” He hit the green button on his panel. It lit up with a triumphant ding. Simon gave his curt nod and tapped his button next. Another ding. Paula’s smile widened as she pressed hers last, her voice soft but firm: “Yes, Zandros. A thousand times, yes.” Three green paws glowed above the stage. Zandros let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He’d made it. The first step in a dream he never thought he’d get to chase. And as he turned off the stage, heading toward the exit and the chaos backstage, he allowed himself one brief glance back. Maybe just maybe this was the start of something real. |
| The big moment had finally arrived! Ozzy and his band had been announced as the next act. They set up their instruments and prepared to play. They decided it would be better to play one of their original songs, rather than a cover. Ozzy stummed his guitar, as Luna, Shiv and Shank played the opening notes. As the melody built up, Ozzy began to sing. (I suck at song lyrics, so I'll just leave the words to your imagination.) When they finished, they eagerly awaited the judge's verdict. If nothing else, the crowd was cheering at least. |
| Before she knew it Nightshade found herself standing before the judges, she was nervous she had seen a lot of domestic cats standing in line before her and got rejected she knew Cats tended to be drawn to music so she realized she probably seemed like a dime a dozen... So standing before the three judges she sang one of her original compositions 'Life is Just a Great Big Rock Show' When she was done the three judges were standing there with they're jaws dropped! "Well...I'll admit it..." Said Simon Puggerson "...You're the first cat I've met who's got such a well developed voice at such a young age...None of that screechy yowling!" |
| Chuck had been at the place, drawn by the smell of food. Most music wasn't his thing, but good food helped. |
| The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm amber light on the steps of the Grand Avenue Coliseum. Zandros and Kesar stood off to the side, watching from the shade as other contestants took their turn. Zandros was quiet, contemplative, his Discman slung over one shoulder. “I liked that bat,” Kesar muttered, arms crossed. “Weird stage name, but the band had energy.” Zandros chuckled lightly. “Ozzy Ozzford. I think it’s a play on an old rock star. He’s cool.” “Mm.” Kesar nodded. “That cat-girl too; Nightshade, wasn’t it? Girl’s got lungs for days.” Zandros nodded, but his attention was already wandering. The crowd near the red-carpet entrance was beginning to stir again. A sleek, custom limo pulled up with dramatic flair, its doors opening as flashbulbs popped. Cheers erupted from some of the Humanimals gathered outside. Then he saw him Jabari Pryde, stepping out with perfect posture, a white-gold silk shirt open at the collar, aviator shades catching the late sun. A lion through and through, lean and confident, his mane trimmed and shaped meticulously. A small entourage followed close behind, paparazzi and fans trailing them. Zandros could feel his father stiffen next to him. The air changed. Jabari spotted them immediately. “Well, well...isn’t this a surprise?” he said with that smooth, politician’s voice as he sauntered over. “Big Brother Kesar, in the flesh. Outside the Coliseum, no less. Didn’t know the grease from the garage cleaned up this well.” Kesar gave a tight nod, jaw clenched. “Didn’t know you’d be here either.” “I’m presenting an award on tonight’s episode. You know, public figure duties. Name recognition does wonders.” Jabari gave a sideways smirk and turned his eyes to Zandros. “And this must be the elusive cub. Zandros, is it?” Zandros didn’t answer at first, his expression unreadable. He just nodded once. Jabari clicked his tongue, looking Zandros up and down. “Big. You got your father’s shoulders. And Ariela’s stare, I think.” The mention of his mother made Zandros bristle. “You know, Kes,” Jabari went on with a casual shrug, “I always wondered what might’ve happened if you hadn’t thrown it all away. The Pryde name, the company. Everything Father built. I’m just glad I was there to...pick up the pieces.” Zandros stepped forward then, the tension in his spine coiled tight. “He didn’t throw anything away. You all pushed him out because he didn’t do what you wanted. Because he didn’t love who you wanted.” Jabari raised his eyebrows behind his sunglasses. “Spoken like a true cub. Naïve. Passion’s nice, but it doesn’t build empires. Discipline does.” Kesar placed a firm hand on Zandros’s shoulder. “We’re not here to pick fights, son.” Zandros glanced down at him, the heat in his blood still simmering, but he took a breath and stepped back. “I always admired your fire, Kesar,” Jabari added with a thin smile. “But you could’ve had a throne. Instead, you’re still chasing sparks in a toolbox.” Kesar narrowed his eyes. “And you’re still talking like money means legacy. Ariela and I built something real. And this kid’s gonna do more with his life than you’ll ever understand.” A flicker of something annoyance, or perhaps guilt passed over Jabari’s face, but it was gone in a blink. “Well, best of luck in there,” Jabari said, slipping back behind his image. “Maybe the judges will see something we all missed.” With that, he turned and strode back toward the limo, cameras once again flashing as the crowd pressed in. Kesar and Zandros stood in the quiet that followed. “...You, okay?” Kesar asked. Zandros stared after the limo. “He thinks being famous makes him better.” Kesar grunted. “Jabari always thought the louder the spotlight, the bigger the man. But spotlights cast long shadows.” Zandros looked at his father, really looked at him oil under his claws, tired eyes, a stubborn heart, and a love that had never bent to anyone’s expectations. “I don’t want a throne,” Zandros muttered. “I just want to sing.” Kesar nodded, eyes still fixed on the spot where his brother had been. “Then sing, son. And let the world hear you.” |
| Ozzy and the band didn't exactly win the show, but the judges and the audience liked their music enough that they were allowed to move on to the finals! Later backstage, as they packed up their equipment, a teenage mouse girl actually snuck past security to speak to them. "You guys are awesome! Could I have your autographs?" They were more than happy to oblige, signing a piece of paper for her. "Wow. We just gave our first autographs and we're not even famous." Luna said. "At least, not yet." Ozzy said "But people know who we are now. This was just the first steppingstone of our career as a band." The others really hoped this all didn't go to Ozzy's head. They had all wanted to be rock stars but knew better than to get big egos about it. |
| Returning to her motel Nightshade had a late supper of more jerky and water (Hopefully she would be able to earn enough money to get something more substantial to eat) And all the while she thought to herself 'Where did Mom and Dad and others like them ever get the idea that the other Humanimal species were dangerous?' And with that she fell into a deep sleep where she found herself floating in outer space! "Do you really want to know the answer to that question?" Came a Voice "Who said that?" Nightshade asked looking around wildly Before her appeared a Humanimal species she had never seen before, one without even the arms the Snake Humanimals had! The long pink body of an Earthworm Humanimal "I did." Said the Worm-Woman "My name is Pinky and I was one of the first Humanimals." Nightshade wasn't sure if this was just a dream or she was actually having a vision, she had heard stories that Cats were a 'mystical' species and Black Cats were especially mystical! |
| Food wasn't the only reason Chuck was at the place. His job was to work on stage props. Contrary to what one might expect, you couldn't just hire someone off the street to change the background of a stage. That method lead to trouble, in one way or another. Also, his job was to lower needed ones, while raising unwanted ones, and make it look seamless with the performances done. It took skill, skill he had developed working alongside of his father for five years. He knew what he was doing. |
| As the bright flashes of the paparazzi cameras dimmed in the rearview mirror, the city opened up in soft, sparkling ribbons of neon and chrome. Zandros leaned his head against the window, watching it all slide past the costumed street performers, the massive widescreens showing highlights from Animal Idol auditions, and the glowing spires of New Hollywood’s skyline. Kesar drove with one paw on the wheel, the other resting against the edge of the door, window rolled down. The night air smelled like ozone, fried food, and the heavy scent of blooming nighttime flowers from the medians. It was alive. “So,” Kesar said casually, “For your first time here. What do you think?” Zandros gave a half smile. “Feels like a different planet.” Kesar nodded. “Yeah. City’s always been like that. Got its own beat.” They stopped at a red light. A group of teenage Humanimals were playing music on the sidewalk an impromptu jam session with a rabbit on drums, a hyena with a bass, and a stoat singing backup vocals. Zandros perked up slightly. “Think they’ll make it?” he asked. Kesar looked over at them. “That depends.” “On what?” “On whether they keep playing tomorrow, and the day after that when the crowd’s gone and the lights aren’t flattering.” The light turned green. The old truck rumbled forward again, a comfortable contrast to the city’s polish. “I saw how you looked when Jabari showed up,” Zandros said after a moment. Kesar exhaled through his nose. “Yeah. He knows how to make an entrance.” “He kinda sucks.” Kesar chuckled. “Yeah, he kinda does. But he’s got charm, I’ll give him that. He’s the Pryde the world expected.” “And you’re not?” Kesar looked over at his son. “I was never very good at pretending to be something I’m not.” They turned off the main boulevard into a quieter part of town, where smaller motels nestled between cafes and boutique shops. The buildings were lower here, older. Real. Kesar pulled into a small two story motor inn called The Dream Den. The neon sign flickered between “No Vacancy” and “Vacancy” like it couldn’t make up its mind. He parked the truck with a soft grunt, shut the engine off, and turned to Zandros. “I booked it before we left, just in case.” Zandros blinked. “You did?” “Figured if you froze up, we’d want to get outta town fast. And if you didn’t, we’d need a place to crash and celebrate.” Zandros smiled. “You really do believe in me?” Kesar looked at him, serious now. “I always have. I just want what’s best for you.” They got out of the truck, grabbing the single duffel they packed together. The night air was cool, a soft breeze ruffling Zandros’s mane as they walked up to the check in window. “You know,” Zandros said, “I think I’m starting to get it.” Kesar raised an eyebrow. “Get what?” “This whole thing. Why you fought so hard to be yourself. Why Mom believed in you.” Kesar paused, keycard in hand. He glanced at his son, not a kid anymore, not quite a man yet, but standing straighter than before. “Just keep being you, Z,” he said quietly. “The rest will come.” They entered the motel room. One lamp on. One creaky fan overhead. But for now, it was home. |
| Ozzy and the gang had set aside enough money to rent themselves a room for the night as well. But only one, so they had to split the bed and the sofa, while Shank drew the short straw, and had to sleep on the floor in a sleeping bag. |
| OK for these flashbacks to Mizzer's past going to save time and copy and paste from my fictionpress stories "OK..." Nightshade said looking at the slimy pink body of the Earthworm Humanimal "...How come I've never seen a bug or worm Humanimal before?" "Because we've been banished to the underground." Pinky said "Or more accurately we still think we're banished because you vertebrates never gave an official statement saying we can come out except under the most dire of emergencies most of you vertebrates forget we even exist." "Sorry!" Nightshade said "The grown-ups never said anything about it! They said you like it down there!" "Us Earthworms yes..." Pinky sighed "...But not the dragonflies, butterflies, moths or other winged insects." Nightshade grimaced realizing that it should be obvious that flying bugs don't like living underground! "Anyway..." Pinky said "...I believe your question was about how the different species came to be segregated in the first place, I can tell you because I was there..." And suddenly like something out of A Christmas Carol Nightshade and Pinky were floating like ghosts over a scene in the great spaceship that brought the First Humanimals to Mizzer! A voice from the P.A. System filled the room “The movie is about to begin! Please find your seats!” Now after that announcement by what the Humanimals knew was a human voice and all the Humanimals weather they came from wild species or tame species felt 'warm, fuzzy feelings' towards humans in particular. All of them had been given the instincts to want to serve humans and make them happy. So there was now a buzz of excitement! “Did you hear that? Said one Dog-Man, a Great Dane thus was more eager than all the others to obey the word of Man “The movie's about to start!” Then a shy Malayan Tapir-Woman asked “What's a movie?” Then a different Pet Humanimal, a gray striped Tabby Cat-Woman with white hands and feet, jumped on the head of one of the Elephant-Men, so everyone could see her. “I think I know what it is,” She said “I remember this word from my humans! Whenever they mentioned the word 'movie' they would sit in front of this...Well it was like a box with a window for one side and the window side would show the humans moving pictures with colors and sounds, I would watch with them sometimes, I always loved when I saw birds!” Turning around the Cat-Woman saw the absolutly gigantic movie screen at the back of the room. “That...” She said pointing to the screen “...Looks like a very big window, I think we're supposed to watch that!” So the Humanimals made their way...(They did not stampede, they were far too mindful of the smaller creatures to do that!) to get closer to the movie screen and began the process of finding their seats, there were no chairs in the room or even cusions, just the uniform shag carpeting. Some of the large creatures helped out the smaller creatures, smaller Humanimals pearched on the heads and shoulders of Elephants, Rhinos and Hippos. That's how Pinky and the Worm-Man she was smitten with got their seats, the two of them draped over the shoulders of a willing Elephant-Man looking like a pair of pink, slimy suspenders! |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
