A Green Lantern in Zootopia 2 (Patreon)

“Believe me, I’m in no mood to move anywhere. Much as I’m looking forward to that ambulance, I’m not looking forward to that ambulance, know what I mean? I’ll probably faint if they hit my knee with one of those little hammers. Though you don’t suppose I might move a little…?”

Without waiting for permission, Nick gingerly put his hands down by his butt and scooted back a foot so that he could lean against the handrail guarding the precipice.

“There. That’s better. If I did rupture something, at least it’s sitting comfortably. I’m Nick, by the way. I’d shake but, you know.”

“Judy.”

She regarded him, eyes sliding up and down his mismatched suit: navy jacket over white pants, with a derby hat miraculously adhering to his head though only a tuft of hair was still inside the crown. The way she trained those peepers on him, Nick almost wished he had a hidden weapon so she could find it on him.

You hated to see someone be so diligent for so little reward.

Then she corrected herself: “Officer Hopps.”

“I’ll stick to Judy, thanks. It’s a lovely name.”

Her left foot went off like a Geiger counter waved over an atom bomb test site. “It’s… not lovely. It’s a perfectly ordinary name for a perfectly ordinary cop.”

Nick turned a blind eye to her getting her kicking foot under control. “Agree to disagree. In fact, I’d go so far as to strenuously disagree. I used to think everyone was a crumb. You know, the rich, the powerful, they were just crooks like anyone, only they got away with it because they did their stealing with a bankbook and a fountain pen instead of a heater. You’d have to be a lamebrain to play it straight when everyone else is trying to get on easy street.”

Judy didn’t quite gasp, but he could tell it was on the runway. “That’s a very cynical attitude, Mister… Nick. I can see why you came to bad circumstances with nihilism like that. And you’re so… I mean, I bet you could be a great salesperson. Salesman. Or maybe a lawyer. Or you could get into radio. Something with a lot of talking.” Her lips slid into a smile. “A sportscaster, you’d be great at that!”

Nick didn’t tell her that he didn’t follow sports. He saw enough chasing and clobbering on the streets—he didn’t need to listen to it on the radio. “Yeah. Probably. It’s funny: I totally see now where I went wrong. Because if you’d asked me about it yesterday, I’d say anyone in a radio booth probably got the job by being someone’s nephew. I don’t have any uncles, right? So I’m screwed.”

“Plenty of people get where they are on merit, Nick.”

“Yeah, I see that now.” He gave her an ingratiating smile. “Hard to deny that seeing you in blue.”

She didn’t say anything, but her foot thumping against the ground spoke for her.

“So now I’m getting that for every cheat and crook, there’s probably ten decent joes doing things the right way. And if only I’d been one of them, I could be gearing up to do a radio broadcast instead of nursing the backache to end all backaches.”

Judy’s face fell with sympathy. “I’m sure the ambulance will have some painkillers. Maybe a backbrace too. Just hold on!”

“Yeah, I’m holding on,” Nick said offhandedly. “It’s just so frustrating that as I come to this whole realization about the nature of good and evil, I’m also getting busted for catnip. And honestly, Officer, I never do this sort of thing. I just placed some bets on the ponies—”

“Nick!” Judy interrupted, scandalized. “A man like you should know better than to bet on pony fights!”

“Yeah, I should. I thought I had a hot tip, but I ended up getting in deep to some very connected people. And they tell me I can either make a delivery for them or they can deliver me somewhere. Somewhere I really wouldn’t want to be, you understand?”

“Cape Suzette?”

“What?”

“I hear it’s a really rowdy place. I’d hate living there. You know they have guns on the cliffs to protect against pirates?”

“I suppose it’s better than having nothing to protect against pirates,” Nick said smoothly. “But you see my predicament, right? Either I made this delivery for the boys or I’d be somewhere—not Cape Suzette—that I’d have a bad time in.”

“I can’t say it was an easy choice, sir, but now you’re going to be in prison. And I don’t think you’re going to have a good time in there. Not unless you keep a very, very positive attitude.”

He nodded. “The irony of it is, now I know how wrong I was to try to take all those little shortcuts in life. If I had to do it all over again, I’d work hard, keep my nose to the grindstone—maybe keep an eye out for a special someone instead of easy money.”

Judy gulped. “Well… that’s good. You should try to remember that for when you’re released. Which I’m sure won’t be long, with good behavior…”

“But that’s the irony! If I were released tomorrow, with the worldview I have now, I daresay everyone would consider me fully rehabilitated. All I’d want would be to work at some nice, normal job. Even selling people shoes would be enough for me. People need shoes, after all. Except for horses. But most people need shoes.”

She was getting confused; Nick could see it in her eyes. “That’s true. You’d probably be good at selling shoes.”

“So the prison sentence would really be excessive. A waste of time, actually. Not to mention money. When you think of how much money Zootopia would pay for my cell, my jumpsuit, my food. And God forbid I get sick in there. They’d send me to the prison infirmary and all that treatment would be shouldered by the taxpayer. And what have I done to deserve that? Nothing. It honestly makes me feel a bit ashamed, just thinking of vacuuming up money that way when what I should be doing is working an honest job, paying for my own healthcare!”

“That’s very commendable—”

“And just think of what that money could go to if I wasn’t in prison? Starving orphans. The homeless. Overtime for the police—you probably work unpaid overtime, don’t you?”

“When I’m needed—”

“You’re so conscientious. And the city can’t even afford to pay you what you’re worth because all that money is going to scum like me. I really don’t know how I can live with myself, taking advantage of the system this way. I know I’m a crumb, but I never stole from any women or kids. Not until now, I guess.”

Judy’s eyes brimmed with sympathy. “Don’t look at it like that. You’re paying your debt to society.”

“That’s just it, Judy. I feel like I’m getting into further debt. How am I ever going to repay all the people around for me for funding all this stuff I don’t deserve? Free room and board! Free healthcare! Heck, they’re even going to dress me!” Nick took off his hat and clutched it in both hands. “Judy, listen… I hate to even ask this and I’m only doing it because I trust you so much. You’re a good person, so maybe all this makes sense to you—it doesn’t to me—but do you think there’s any other way I could pay my debt to society?”

“The law says—”

“The law also said I should be in handcuffs. You didn’t put them on and look! Here I am, letting you arrest me, just like I said I would. And the catnip’s in the car—I didn’t actually deliver it anywhere. So when you think about it, all I really did was get into a car crash. And even if that was against the law, don’t you think I’ve been punished enough with my cracked ribs and whatever else the doctor is going to say I’ve got?”

“You got into a car crash because I had to wreck you. Because you were resisting arrest.”

“Yes, but what were you trying to arrest me for? Smuggling catnip? Because we’ve established that I didn’t smuggle any catnip—it’s all there in the car, unsmuggled. So when you think about it, what I really did was turn these illicit drugs over to you, an officer of the law, so you could prevent them from falling into the hands of the unfortunates who would otherwise use them.”

“You didn’t turn them over,” Judy corrected. “They were in your car when it turned over.”

“See? I’m not even a good drug smuggler. So what would it accomplish to put me in jail? Just to take food out of the mouths of starving babes? Judy, you’re a great cop, a wonderful woman, you also seem well-dressed even though you’re wearing a standard-issue uniform. Can you tell me which would be better: me in the clink, living off the taxpayer teat like some welfare wolverine, or me, a free man, making a living, taking a bicycle to work, putting my spare change into the collection box when I go to church on Sunday?”

Judy stared at him a moment. Then her eyes were narrower than he thought a bunny’s could get. “Nick, you’re sweet, but I’m not letting you off the hook for drug trafficking.”

“Well, I tried.”

He launched himself off the handrail and ran like hell.