[Being a smoker and an eater of things straight from the can oh and also beer with his cereal. Freddy's up on his feet now seeing the spot on the couch open up but...
[Now the old man is on his feet too. He steps lightly, following the noise. Not behind the entertainment center. Not by the trash. It's the door. He stands to the side and then slooowly unlocks.]
I don't think it's a rat.
[He turns the knob and then tries to look to their doorstep with only a sliver of the door open. A big, thumping tail his against the wood and the rest of a furry body tries to press through.]
[Freddy asks, seeing that nose push in, then a big old skull, followed by broad doggie shoulders and a thick torso. The dog is in. As if the old man was really going to keep Mister Dog out.
[Put him out? He just got here! Larry shuts the door. Mister Dog is still whining a little. His tail wags and wags.]
What's the matter with you? Huh? Did you go for a walk?
[Still a dog. Still can't talk. He knees and suddenly he's getting a face full of dog sniffing, snorting and trying to taste after shave. Okay. Greeted the old one. The other one? Look out Freddy, he's comin' for you!]
[Really? Says the guy who can make toast. Larry sighs too. All the pats to the dog. The canine and the older man sit. Except the dog sits on Freddy's foot.]
You really think he came back because the food was better?
[Things that come out of that mouth. Shit. It would be more judgmental if the old man wasn't smiling.]
[It's a testicle thing, or so Freddy is convinced anyway. It's easier than throwing the big heavy weight out. He can barely get the dog off his foot. And nobody wants to have to wipe that smile off an old man's face.]
[Pat. Pat. Mister Dog's tail thumps on the ground. He doesn't understand what they're saying. Nothing doing. Just being a dog and picking up like he never left.]
Couldn't stand the lady and her brat.
[Yeah. That son of hers was a brat no matter what age or affiliate.]
[The beast can't possibly understand or appreciate the glory of dick sucking quite the way Freddy can. Ahem.]
You think they're looking for him?
[Based on the kid's earlier investigation the answer is 'kind of, maybe, not really, only when it's convenient'. It's not Marisol's fault though, she's getting old. The brat brought the dog in the first place, Marisol was Mister Dog's small mercy. Well, until these guys.]
[Pat pat to the dog as he looks at Larry with a healthy amount of skepticism because the old man is totally trying to say something just spit it out already, Dimmy.]
[He could burst right about now. Larry leans in on Freddy but not in the way that Mister Dog is. With an arm around his shoulder and his mug up in his face.]
[Of Marisol's son's type. That guy's a punk through and through. He's certain he's got to have some kind of RAP sheet, if only Freddy had his badge. Fff.]
[No snotty ass kid. Larry would love to show him a thing or two the only way he'd understand. Except that's assault, something both Marisol and Freddy wouldn't really be too keen on.
The old man plants a kiss close to the kid's ear before looking down at Mister Dog.]
[If he had a foxy ear it would flick from that kiss. What a nice gesture. Very soothing. Very knowing. Knowing that Freddy is being a fucking saint about this situation.]
He's a dog. That's what they do.
[Be hungry and sleep and drool unless they're police officers, then suddenly they're amazing athletes who have your back. The kid doubts both scenarios where Mister Dog is concern.]
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orangetoughguy) wrote2010-08-06 11:39 pm
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[Just food, he says. Look take the invitation to indulge in comfort grub, Dimmy, Freddy's practically serving it up on a silver platter.
Scratch scratch creak.]
....On second thought maybe you need to lay off the greasy stuff.
[Freddy jokes.]
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You mean order a taco salad?
[He's sitting up right but a scratch noise goes on for a bit....and then stops.]
Enough about me though, you should try a little more greens. And not the salsa verde.
[Sitting up might make more room on the couch for two if someone's willing.]
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[Being a smoker and an eater of things straight from the can oh and also beer with his cereal. Freddy's up on his feet now seeing the spot on the couch open up but...
Scratch scratch scratch. Whine.]
Motherfucker we have rats.
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[A big arm drapes behind where he thinks Freddy is going to sit. Now he can hear it.]
Jesus fuckin' Christ! That's the one thing that the goddamn land lord said we wouldn't have.
[Except the particular pitch of the whine. Larry leans forward and freezes. No. It can't be? Can it?]
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[Whut. Is that what he thinks he heard....no. It can't be. Really?? Freddy's expression grows skeptical.]
Must be a big rat....
[Or a big old Mister Dog. Or worse, word traveled down the barkvine and now all mutts think this is a halfway house.]
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I don't think it's a rat.
[He turns the knob and then tries to look to their doorstep with only a sliver of the door open. A big, thumping tail his against the wood and the rest of a furry body tries to press through.]
Son of a gun.
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[Freddy asks, seeing that nose push in, then a big old skull, followed by broad doggie shoulders and a thick torso. The dog is in. As if the old man was really going to keep Mister Dog out.
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What's the matter with you? Huh? Did you go for a walk?
[Still a dog. Still can't talk. He knees and suddenly he's getting a face full of dog sniffing, snorting and trying to taste after shave. Okay. Greeted the old one. The other one? Look out Freddy, he's comin' for you!]
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[In any other situation Freddy would sound like an aviator shades wearing cop. Oh no here he comes all sixty-something pounds of him.]
Hey hey calm down, don't jump on me...!
[Hands flap out to ensure the dog doesn't knock him down on the couch.]
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Marisol was really happy to see him.
[So happy that she shed a tear or two when Paco came back. Thankfully Freddy's let that one slide a little. He's still Mister Dog.]
He must have run away.
[Larry comes back to the couch from the door. He's trying to stifle the glad look on his face.]
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[Yep. Freddy said it. Oof, he flops into the couch and pat pat pats Mister Dog on the big head. Sigh.]
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You really think he came back because the food was better?
[Things that come out of that mouth. Shit. It would be more judgmental if the old man wasn't smiling.]
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He's a dude. We're dudes. We get it.
[It's a testicle thing, or so Freddy is convinced anyway. It's easier than throwing the big heavy weight out. He can barely get the dog off his foot. And nobody wants to have to wipe that smile off an old man's face.]
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[Pat. Pat. Mister Dog's tail thumps on the ground. He doesn't understand what they're saying. Nothing doing. Just being a dog and picking up like he never left.]
Couldn't stand the lady and her brat.
[Yeah. That son of hers was a brat no matter what age or affiliate.]
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[The beast can't possibly understand or appreciate the glory of dick sucking quite the way Freddy can. Ahem.]
You think they're looking for him?
[Based on the kid's earlier investigation the answer is 'kind of, maybe, not really, only when it's convenient'. It's not Marisol's fault though, she's getting old. The brat brought the dog in the first place, Marisol was Mister Dog's small mercy. Well, until these guys.]
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They should. I mean, she was looking for him at least. I sure didn't see anything like that from that no good piece of shit living with her.
[Mister Dog shoves his face into Larry's lap even though he's farther than Freddy. Just laying over both of them.]
He didn't seem to have complaints while here. ...Not that that's the point here.
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[...........Mister Dog is heavy. What is he doing. Why is he draping? He's not a cat?? Sigh. Freddy gives the beast a pat pat to the back.]
She probably feels sorry for him.
[No the kid will not be the first to suggest Mister Dog stay with them for the night.]
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I sort of do too. He's not another kid. He can't just go on and make choices that he wants and go on from there. I mean, dogs stay where they are.
[They're supposed to!]
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[Pat pat to the dog as he looks at Larry with a healthy amount of skepticism because the old man is totally trying to say something just spit it out already, Dimmy.]
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[Should. That took so much effort to say. So much effort. He looks at Freddy next to him.]
She's missing him.
[He automatically assumes. Are you proud of him yet, kid?]
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[Yes he is. And yet. That face. The dog's face too, goddamnit. Sigh.]
Not now, he just got here.
[Are you proud of him yet, old man??]
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We'll let 'em visit.
[Since he just got here.]
Nap. Maybe have chow.
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[Of Marisol's son's type. That guy's a punk through and through. He's certain he's got to have some kind of RAP sheet, if only Freddy had his badge. Fff.]
How about him, is he hungry?
[Wasn't there a bag of chips open somewhere.]
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[No snotty ass kid. Larry would love to show him a thing or two the only way he'd understand. Except that's assault, something both Marisol and Freddy wouldn't really be too keen on.
The old man plants a kiss close to the kid's ear before looking down at Mister Dog.]
He's always hungry. Ain't you, boy?
[Thump, thump wagging tail.]
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He's a dog. That's what they do.
[Be hungry and sleep and drool unless they're police officers, then suddenly they're amazing athletes who have your back. The kid doubts both scenarios where Mister Dog is concern.]
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