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The Nomming of Tsumi. (C)Tsumi Moogle '11 Characters (C) Themselves.

A thick plume of smoke filled the living room. Laying his head back, with his pipe rested practicedly in his fingers, Sam grinned to the roof warping languidly. His green eyes trailed along the speckled roof, watching it dancing and rising, rippling like water above him as his body lay sunk into his well-loved beanbag. For an older mog, he was in fine shape. Built as though he had been much more active in his youth, a runner or the sort that had gone slightly to seed, and shown to the world; entirely naked. The bandana he wore about his head, keeping his thick dreadlocks out of his face the only throw-back to his time as lead singer in his old reggae band. Well, that, and his habitual nature of smoking just about anything he could get his hands on.

Fixing another hit, he eyed over the zip-locked bags of dried mushrooms, a choice birthday gift from one of his old band-members. He'd really have to invite them around some time, have a sesh. Gods. How long had it been? Lighting up, he took a long, slow drag and groaned his delight as the world spun. Stirring in the musky suede of his beanbag, he grinned as he felt it cloying, clinging and kneading about his form. It wasn't really, and he knew it. But it playing with his mind like that.. Damn, Nick could grow his shit.

His triangular ears perked as he lowered his reddened eyes, regarding the wall-to-wall TV he practically lived by. The sight of another cooking show making his mouth water, as words crept through the haze of his mind. Emphasising the flavours of those fat, fresh berries.. the thick dolloping cream and heavy, drizzling chocolate. His tongue trailed his lips for the words tracing along his mind. He hadn't even had breakfast yet. He knew better than that... Squirming slothenly, he tried his best to slowly raise from his beanbag, only to catch a curious, sweet waft in the air. A fruity tang to coincide with the fresh, dew-laden strawberries being displayed on the screen...

Tsumi meanwhile, smiled as he padded downstairs, a late riser for weekends, and stretching, he chrrrled. Julius had left a note on his door, telling him he'd be out skating, and would probably be back in the afternoon. The thought of his sibling in his skater-best, fresh and wind-swept had him adjusting his snug-hugging underwear as he padded to the Kitchen. Tugging open the door, he pulled out a plate of pancakes, noted by his sibling as having been made before he left. The older mog knew well not to leave the house without a semblence of food when he wasn't there. Three kitchen fires that year had kept them extra vigilant about proper safety in the kitchen, where proper safety was 'No Sam or Tsumi allowed.'

Tucking into the food, Tsumi smiled as he tugged over the thick bottle of syrup, drizzling a fine line or two over the plush pastries and continuing with indulgent delight. Juli made /awesome/ pancakes. He was halfway through his third pancake, before a curiously bitter scent hit his nose. Blinking some and looking up, he squeaked to the brush of a muzzle against his neck and looked back to his father, chrrling for the rather apt attentions. 'Mmmhh.. morning Dad, kupo.' Tsumi grinned, giving Sam a light, one-armed hug, easing him cheek to cheek for a moment. 'Have you eaten yet, kupo..? You know the doc said you shouldn't be doin' stuff 'fore breakfast.'

'Yeah.. I know. S'why I came out to fix it.' Sam said a little hazily. Blinking his eyes a few times, he had to wonder to himself what exactly Nick had grown in with these mushrooms. There was a giant fucking strawberry, sitting at his breakfast table, eating pancakes. '...Damn s'is some good shit.' He murmured hazily.

Tsumi blinked some to the language, peering up to his father, frowning. He wasn't normally this plastered before dinner, let alone breakfast. 'Dad..? Are you alright?' The young mog squeaked, taking in the redder eyes, the slightly unsteady sway and almost drunken gaze the older mog regarded him with.

'Alright..?' Sam murmured hazily, half the mogling's words not meeting his ears. 'Yeah.. Could be better. Will be, after breakfast.' He chrrled thickly, blinking at the fork-full of pancakes being offered up to him by the sentient fruit. 'Pancakes..? ..Well.. yeah, I suppose. But not on their own..'

Tsumi smiled at first, before blinking as the older mog took hold of his arm, and then his other, and lifted him with suprising ease up, onto the table. He squeaked as he felt the pancakes smooshing thickly under his back. 'D-Dad..?' He murmured confusedly, twitching his nose to the bitter scent again. It wasn't weed.. LSD didn't -have- a smell.. He'd stopped doing the harder stuff after that heart issue a few years ago... leaving only... '..'Shrooms, kupo..?'

'Hee.. Yeah.. Nick grew 'em.. They're intense, man..' drawled the elder mog, reaching over the table to pick up the syrup-pot, starting to drizzle, and pour the contents over the unhelpfully squirmy strawberry. 'Man.. I'm gunna be stuuuuffed from this..'

Tsumi blushed and 'eep!'ed as he squirmed under the cool and sticky drizzling. He was rather certain his old-man wasn't lying, or joking. 'K-Kupipo..! Dad..! I think you're having a bad trip..! I'm not a strawberry!'

Sam grinned and shook his head. 'Bad trip..? Nawh.. I'm just starved, guy.. and how are you not..? I mean..' His muzzle dropped slowly, and he sniffed over the young mog. 'You sure smell like one..' His tongue slowly poked out and trailed up Tsumi's torso. 'Mmph.. yeah.. You're a strawberry.' He murmured, closing his eyes and suckling on his own syrup-drizzled tongue. 'Plus, Food Network says.. older guys should be doing more fruit.'

The little mog stared as Sam slowly yawned his muzzle, eager and intent on his 'fruit-fix.' Squirming and scrambling, the boy yelped as he slipped from the pinning grasp and slipped from the kitchen, trickling syrup in his wake. His eyes darted side to side.. Outside was bad. He couldn't lead Sam out there like this.. upstairs too.. he'd find him.. Turning his head, he looked to the basement door. His dad had had several freak outs and bad-trips down there before. No way he'd go down. Tugging open the door as the unstable mog stumbled after him, Tsumi pelted down into the depths of the basement, pining.

The refurbished pine stairs smelled strongly. The wood-chippy smell masked him rather well as he scrambled down to the cold cement floor. Eyes darting about, he thought worriedly, longingly. Why couldn't the place be a maze. Somewhere where he could properly hide? Lifting his head, the boy gasped for the sound of slow, uncertain footsteps padding down the stairs. 'Duuude.. Where'd you go..? I know I saw you come down here, guy.. You're too real to be a trip..!' Came Sam's dopey voice. Swallowing, Tsumi hurried into the depths of the basement, pressing himself under the stairs, watching as his old man slowly padded down, his shaggy head turning slowly, this way and that. His nose twitching. How he had retained his sense of smell after the many years of smoking was a mystery to him.. But it wasn't playing to his fortune, as the older mog's nostrils twitched, and over the sweet scent of wood, he caught that copious sugary smell of syrup.

'Strawberry...' Sam murmured lightly, calling gently. 'C'mon out, guy.. I'm starving, k'po..' Turning his head, Sam caught sight of a faint glow. ..When did Strawberries glow..? ..Damn, maybe he was hitting his peak with the shrooms. Another footstep and another, he approached the large fruit pressed under the stairs. 'Huh.. Might be a bit dusty.. but damn you smell good...' Tsumi could only stare, pressing himself back into the corner as the cream-furred mog approached him, licking his lips and slowly reaching out, his muzzle yawning...

***

The front door opened, and with a delighted, appreciative groan for the shade of the house, Julius stepped inside. Wiping his well-worn shoes at the welcome-mat, he tugged his helmet off to let his longer mess of dark hair fall about his face, whilst the undid his well-scuffed and abused pads. With the clatter, he perked his ears, wondering where the thunderfall of footsteps bounding down the stairs to tackle him was. It was unheard of for Tsumi not to ambush him, fresh from an afternoon out skating. Tugging his T-shirt free and wiping his brow with it, he flicked his wings.

'Dad..? Tsumi..? You guys home?' He called out, frowning as he couldn't even hear the TV going. It was almost unheard of for it not to be on...

'In here.' Came Sam's lazy, almost sleepy reply. Smiling in relief, Julius padded on through, toeing out of his plush high-tops, to dig his over-warm socked paws into the plush carpeting, before pausing. Sam was settled, familiarly in his beanbag, a pipe to hand, his head reclined, and his belly... massive. The rounded mass of it looked like it was pinning him down, and stirring, twitching some.

'...Dad? Where's Tsumi?' Juli asked uncertainly, blinking from the blank screen his father was staring at intently as he slowly approached the beanbag, kneeling down to rest a hand on the large, almost taut, cream-furred belly. The older mog groaned in appreciation and smiled.

'No idea.. but shit.. you should have seen the strawberry I found for breakfast... Man.. I couldn't believe it.' He murmured, taking a well-practiced, upside-down draw from his pipe, before letting out another lazy waft of smoke. Still the words of the food network washed over him. And slowly lifting his gaze, the elderly mog settled his bleary gaze on the screen at the tropical fruit-drink-in-a-coconut being prepared. With his nose twitching, he looked aside. Was that.. a smell of... Coconut?

Sam licked his lips and smiled. He had to have more trips like this. They were feeding him awesomely.