Later that evening, when the group headed back over to their apartment, Solomon brought with him a gargantuan roll of tickets from the ticket booth.
As the group put together their usual supper of bugmeal sandwiches and waffles, the woodchuck and Tabby painstakingly counted each and every last ticket.
"So how many tickets did you guys sell?" Gazelle asked as she popped a pair of heavenly waffles into the toaster.
"Well," Tabby announced as he finished up the last strand of tickets, "looks like about... 197 total. Amount of money earned is about a little over $985."
Gazelle seemed shocked at how little they actually made off their concert. "You mean... that's it?" she asked, a little concerned.
"Don't worry, Gazelle," Tabby assured his new recruit, "it's just enough to keep us afloat. The bills aren't that much, shockingly."
This brought Gazelle to a question she had been wondering about for a while now. Ever since she had noticed the kind of rundown apartment Difursity operated out of, Gazelle noticed that the majority of the area they lived in was comprised of predators. All the predators were living in these dusty, rundown buildings. Meanwhile, the prey mostly inhabited the richer districts of Capital City, like the Fertile Belt and Downtown. What was going on?
"Can I help you?" a voice asked next to Gazelle. She turned around and recognized the animal.
"It's fine, Symba," she said, smiling sheepishly, "I can take care of myself."
"Well, OK," the young cheetah said with a shrug as he gathered up a few pieces of bugmeal to make a series of sandwiches.
As the group all was seated around the table, Gazelle decided to ask that question to the entire group at large.
After Britt blessed the food, Gazelle asked her penultimate question.
"Tabby?" she asked.
"Yes, Gazelle?" Tabby responded as he took a bite of tuna salad.
"Why are the prey animals so much richer here in Capital City?"
Solomon was the first to answer, in his typical, rather weird fashion.
"I think," the woodchuck asserted as he stuffed a few pieces of Fruit Lupis into his mouth, "that the aliens gave them money."
No one said a word, but their confused gazes spoke volumes for them. Solomon stared back in disbelief.
"What," he asked, kind of indignant, "you guys don't believe in the little green sheep? What's wrong with you?"
Britt facepalmed and put down her waffle as she tried yet again to get Solomon more in touch with reality.
"Solomon, Solomon, Solomon," she said as she sighed through her nose, "there is no way we're ever going to believe that aliens gave the prey of this town all the money. It's just another one of those wild conspiracy theories you dreamed up with your brothers. Aliens don't exist."
"Oh, yeah?" Solomon replied, defensive. "Well, do you know for a fact how Elvis died? Hmm?"
Britt couldn't respond.
"Or what about the Pyramid of Three?" Solomon continued. "Or Catlantis? Can you prove that those don't exist? Hmmm?"
Britt busied herself with the waffle and stuffed a couple bites into her mouth. Solomon leaned back in triumph as he proclaimed, "I rest my case!"
YOU ARE READING
Zootopia: Runaway: Gazelle's Story
General FictionShe's the most beautiful, talented and wealthiest animal Zootopia has ever known. She rose from tragedy and ashes on more than one occasion to change the course of history forever. She loved once and has suffered ever since then. She became an overn...
