Chapter Text
"This vacation is going to be so awesome!" exclaimed Jon Arbuckle to his cat, Garfield.
From his position, Garfield could beg to differ. Here he was, crammed into whatever space the passenger seat had left like a sardine in this can called Jon Arbuckle's dangerously overburdened rental car. Man, when Ford called this a "compact" car, they weren't kidding, thought Garfield to himself as the highway scenery slowly sauntered by. Of course, much of the space issue was Garfield's fault; without so many pans of his glorious magical lasagna to keep himself fed, the tiny hatchback might actually have doubled as a conference room if needed. I could have fit so much more lasagna in the car if Odie didn't have to come along, mused Garfield, glancing into the rearview mirror at the dopey dog sticking his head out the open window.
"Hey Garfield, I know what will cheer you up!" cheered Arbuckle again, cranking the volume knob all the way to 11, serenading the entire cabin with the opening riff of Slayer's "Raining Blood". Or, Garfield could make an educated guess that this particular section of squealing and noise originally was supposed to be such an audio reproduction. The low-quality, tinny stock speakers of the borrowed transportation device punched out their damnedest effort to drive such a loud song at such a high volume, but the speaker cones quickly reached the absolute extremes of their reciprocating travel. Odie began to bob his head between an elevated position and a sunken position, in a rapidly moving fashion comparable to similar performances by listeners of heavy metal such as this. Garfield felt a sudden sensation that his sensitive feline auditory organs were discharging a certain crimson life fluid.
Garfield took a mighty swipe, and upon the collision of his left paw with the rotary control corresponding to the audio level, the tremendous distorted racket abruptly halted, replaced instead with the standard tire noise and Odie's rapid, excited breathing.
"You're no fun, Garfield," commented Jon Arbuckle on the cat's annoyed reaction. But Garfield didn't care about what Jon thought, so long as that maelstrom of mashed-up metal no longer plagued his ears. He wanted to start this vacation on a good note; after all, it was the food and the babes that convinced Garfield that this vacation somehow surpassed a week of sleeping. "Hey, look! That's our hotel!" exclaimed Arbuckle again, turning the diminutive hatchback left into the parking lot.
Thirty minutes and quite the ordeal involving the doorman, ripped pants, and a rubber chicken later, Jon Arbuckle collapsed onto the larger of the hotel room's two beds. The tiresome check-in process, capping off eight straight hours of driving from Muncie in an underpowered, undersized little rental, had taken a toll on the perpetually-tortured bachelor's very ability to comprehend existence. "And they said vacations are relaxing," moaned Arbuckle into the plush comforter as he drifted off into a deep, long slumber. Not even Odie's constant barking out the window and the sounds of beachgoers outside could rouse him from his Rip Van Winkle-like unconsciousness.
Meanwhile, Garfield spent his afternoon stretching out from the car ride. The limited space left him cramped and sore, even moreso than leg day at the gym. It had also been forever since he'd had the opportunity to go for a run barefoot - and the beach was literally a hundred feet away now! Garfield set his headphones into his ears, tucking his phone into the waist of his Speedo as he began a leisurely jog along the beach to some Pantera. Of course, being a humanoid feline, the pace of his "leisurely jog" equalled that of an Olympic sprinter going for the gold. The sensation of his feet sinking into the sand, claws digging in for each stride, soothed Garfield as he soared along at speeds that could get him pulled over had he chosen a street to run in. The air rushing past blew around his glorious, black-striped orange mane as finished his mile run down the beach for warm-up.
Hmmm...the electronics are waterproof, let's swim back! Garfield excitedly thought to himself. Turning back the direction he had come, he ran to the waves crashing against the sea, venturing out farther and farther until finally he hit ocean deep enough to swim comfortably in. In the water for the return trip, now his powerful, well-developed upper body was in charge of propelling him along. The water cooled and calmed Garfield, his fur guiding the water around him as he breaststroked his way back to his start point. If only these beaches existed closer to home, pondered Garfield, his slim, sleek body making great time back towards the hotel.
All in all, this whole workout had taken him only about thirty minutes, and left Garfield nicely refreshed from the journey. His feet hit a sandbar close to shore, and he stood up, leaving the water at waist level as his soaking wet fur matted itself down around his chiseled pecs and washboard abs. Catching the eye of the other beachgoers, Garfield walked forward, advancing out of the ocean as his Speedo, then his quads, then calves and finally his feet emerged. Twisting at the waist, Garfield shook himself side to side, flinging a vast quantity of water from his coat. He then did retreat to the beach full of sunbathers, where he finally encountered the pasty-white twig called Jon Arbuckle relaxing on one of the towels they'd brought.
"Garfield! Good to see you, friend! Let's go have a cold one." exclaimed the reflective human, reaching up with his arm.
Gladly, replied Garfield, unable to vocalize a reply. He'd tried to teach Arbuckle how to speak Felinese once. Unfortunately for the both of them, Jon simply couldn't figure out how to precisely make the mewing and purring sounds with enough accuracy to be intelligible. Garfield blamed human hearing for this; after all, cats such as himself had highly sensitive ears and could tell them apart more easily. Not that it was particularly necessary for Arbuckle to speak it anyway; Garfield could understand English easily enough, even though his vocal chords were physically incapable of replicating it.
Garfield reached down, firmly grasping Arbuckle's hand and hauling him up with his lean yet strong biceps. Odie, previously curled up on the sand beside Arbuckle, sprang to his paws, eagerly shaking the sand out of his fur to follow the pair. They made their way across the beach, Arbuckle's ghastly skin and bones contrasting with Garfield's muscular, lithe figure as they entered a nearby beach bar. The Argonian bartender turned towards the trio, immediately focusing his beady yellow eyes upon the six-foot feline leading a human and a dog into his tavern. "I assume the rug will have some Skooma," hissed the lizard-like bartender at Garfield and friends.
While Jon Arbuckle and Odie backed off, Garfield's ears flattened to his head, and the tip of his tail twitched in irritation as his eyes locked onto the Argonian's and narrowed into slits. "Get pissy with me elsewhere, kitten-boy," taunted the barkeeper with racism, "I don't serve your kind here. Bouncers! Remove this beast from my premises!"
On cue, four freshly-waxed Bowflex models appeared from behind support columns, surrounding Garfield to forcibly eject him from the bar. "You can either come with us, or we can drag your lifeless body. Your choice," stated the first bouncer. He was the one wearing the red boxer shorts, so Garfield decided to refer to him as Mr. Red.
Garfield eyed up his opposition, or at least Mr. Red and Mr. Yellow in front of him. They stood at right angles to each other, forming a ring around him. He could see the bar...and a clear spot on the floor between the confrontation and the onlooking bar patrons. An idea formed in Garfield's head - a stupid idea, but one that could possibly work. It was certainly better than letting some racist win by booting him from the establishment.
Catching everyone by surprise, Garfield sprang from the floor, somersaulting through the air and landing about a foot forward of the ring of bouncers. The instant he landed, his right leg extended backward, mule-kicking Mr. Yellow in his right calf. Mr. Yellow collapsed with a painful grunt, while Garfield spun 180 degrees to engage the other combatants approaching. The turn gave momentum to Garfield's next attack; as he swiped his paw through the air, he slashed Mr. Red across the face with his claws. Mr. Red staggered towards the bar, bleeding profusely from the deep cuts inflicted by his quarry.
"You'll make a fine rug, cat!" shouted Mr. Green as he and Mr. Blue both approached Garfield. Each one threw a punch, and Garfield snapped to a boxing stance, guarding his face and body against the blows. This position also allowed Garfield to counter with a right jab, hitting Mr. Green in the solar plexus and sending him reeling back. The flurry of assorted punches from Mr. Blue proved trickier to counter, however, forcing Garfield to guard as best he could, tanking the brunt of Mr. Blue's onslaught for several seconds. The superior strength of his opponent overwhelmed Garfield, and as he focused on Mr. Blue, the injured Mr. Yellow grabbed Garfield's tail and yanked as hard as his position on the floor could allow him to. With a yelp, Garfield staggered back, thrown off balance and opening himself to one last punch from Mr. Blue which landed dead center on his chest.
These combined efforts of Mr. Blue and Mr. Yellow planted Garfield flat on his back, and he crunched his legs and arms towards his body to defend himself from a bottle-brandishing Mr. Red. Fortunately for Garfield, Mr. Red couldn't see very much past the towel held over the bleeding with his other hand, and a well-placed kick not only dug his foot claws into Mr. Red's wrist, but sent the man colliding into Mr. Blue. Both of them toppled over, falling away from Garfield as Mr. Yellow continued to wrestle him.
"Garfield! From the bar!" cried Jon Arbuckle as he witnessed the bartender withdraw a pistol from behind the bar. By this point, the bar patrons cheering on the fight noticeably quieted down as the violence level escalated. Garfield glanced over towards the bar, and flipped Mr. Yellow over himself as he rolled onto his belly. Garfield then got up, hauling Mr. Yellow from the floor and holding him as a shield from any gunfire.
Garfield could hear someone approach from behind, and he dropped Mr. Yellow to deal with him. As he turned to face the closing Mr. Green, Mr. Yellow again crumpled to the floor, his leg unable to support him. A gunshot rang out as Garfield and Mr. Green clashed, and the bullet breezed through the cat's mane, slicing through the hairs as it barely missed anything important.
They're using lethal force. Time I did the same, thought Garfield reflexively as he maneuvered behind Mr. Green. This put Mr. Blue and Mr. Red to his left, but it seemed at this point they were preoccupied with addressing the latter's lacerations. Garfield and Mr. Green again engaged in a boxing match, this time with Garfield the aggressor, unleashing punch after furious punch and claw strike, whittling down the bouncer before finally just headbutting him. The dazed Mr. Green could do nothing but watch as Garfield snapped his leg forward, punting Mr. Green past Mr. Yellow and directly at the bar.
Garfield ran towards Mr. Green, stomping on Mr. Yellow's head as he went past. The Argonian had set his weapon down to give first aid to the bouncer, and Garfield reached towards it. The Argonian beat him to the gun, but realized the feint too late as Garfield landed a solid uppercut on the bartender. As the bartender toppled over, the gun flew through the air, arcing just out of reach over the heads of Mr. Green and Garfield. Odie charged into the fray, leaping into the air to catch the gun in his jaws.
Garfield felt himself yanked backwards off Mr. Green, and he struggled against Mr. Blue bear-hugging him from behind. His arms were pinned against his sides, opening him to Mr. Green who had grabbed a full beer bottle from the shelf. Garfield still had his feet on the carpet, and could somewhat maneuver against Mr. Blue, but realized he had to escape this grapple before he ran out of room.
"Good boy," said Jon as Odie galloped back to him. He retrieved the pistol from Odie's mouth, quickly tapping the magazine in and press-checking the weapon.
"Any last words?!" taunted Mr. Blue into Garfield's ear as he tripped up Garfield, gaining complete control of the cat's movement. Mr. Green closed in, raising the bottle high for the finishing blow.
Jon raised the pistol into firing stance, taking aim at Mr. Green.
The altercation was suddenly interrupted by a tremendous CRASH! as the bar's front window shattered. Mr. Green, Mr. Blue, and Jon all turned towards the window, and immediately noticed a heavily mutilated human body amid the shards of the window. This person was still alive, though probably wished for the mercy of death as she was already missing both legs and large chunks of every other body part. Garfield broke free from Mr. Blue in the distraction but was caught off guard by what sounded like a bear's roar issuing from outside the broken window. Everyone looked out the hole where the window had been.
The strangest of creature abominations stared right back.