[Are you even paying attention, Dimmy? Freddy's leading Mister Dog in the opposite direction. Away from those two and their house of whatever and bullshit domestic violence farm multiple collar scum sucking asshole rodeo.]
Who cares.
[They're not staying and neither is Mister Dog. He keeps his hand on the beast's collar solid.]
[That final step he takes pulling the leash in the opposite direction of Freddy and dog that makes it apparent. The sun shines through the clouds and fuck, it's like there's some sort of a halo around Freddy's noggin.]
I sure don't.
[Ain't hard to come on in the same way. Not hard at all. Except from behind them, from the blue house up ahead someone shouts.]
[Is that a foreign language? Sounds like! So Freddy, the white dude who knows "Where's the library?" and "You're under arrest." in Spanish ignores it.]
Cool. Let's keep going.
[His grip on Mister Dog's collar loosens up just so their pace can quicken but in a smooth and casual manner.]
[Freddy huffs under his breath really more for the frustration of not making a clean getaway. But he keeps on walking with Larry, well aware Marisol's boy is gaining speed. Time it just right, Newendyke, time it just--]
Get the dog.
[Because the kid's letting go and whipping around to land his freckled fist into the punk's skull. It's a hard one. The kind mama tells you to knock a brother out.]
[They've had a rather clumsy history of clean getaways. This might end up being messy. Larry's got the leash and he has it coiled several times to keep Mister Dog very much heeled. He is starting to up the pace and turns just enough to catch the way that freckled fist flies like a well aimed arrow.
His jaw drops and his heart leaps.]
Goddamn.
[The punk ass kid looks like he's got a hard case of whiplash, at least he will when he picks himself up off of the ground.]
[The woman goes from combative to doting in 0.2 seconds flat. She's on her knees at his side to see if he's okay and hisses at the two, telling those around her to get those gringos. Typical of the DV Farm Garden Variety. The other dog on the other hand is smarter, he just sits next to his downed master panting and drooling. Things are so much nicer when that brat is out cold. The neighborhood seems to agree, so far nobody steps up to the plate to follow them.]
That was hard.
[Freddy says through tense jaws because he won't stand to shake his fist out in public.] Head full of rocks.
[Larry's ears are ringing with the shrillness of the girlfriend's voice. Except he doesn't even see her. He's dimly aware that Mister Dog is pulling him in the same direction that the kid is strutting. Maybe he's just walking but sure as shit the old man swears it is a full out strut.
Fucking tough guy. Hot shot son of a bitch. Downing brown bums like they're literal shit.]
We'll talk about hard when we got better scenery.
[He clears his throat. The neighborhood around them is flowing from concerned at the fuss, sheer silent appreciation and now going back to the way they were with the sun still pretty high and hot.]
That was a good one.
[This is the very start of the flow of appreciation.]
[Yep. That's dumb clueless talk for you, old man. What's so hard about it? Ahem. In any case the kid's on his way at similar pace, quickly getting out of there with Mister Dog in tow. It says just as much that the big beast doesn't hold them back.]
I know.
[Freddy crows. He knows a compliment on his cold clocking when he hears one.]
[His acting skills are above average. Larry is a little too alert with their getaway to try to see right on through him. But chances are he's just bullshitting.]
Good form. Good timing. I'm pretty sure that shit had a gun or something.
[Still walking, walking. Mister Dog thinks they're going for a sprint and so really they're making brilliant time. The shrieking pitch of the girlfriend means they're still way, way back there as the sound fades.]
[Not that those are good reasons to think little of a firearm. Freddy's just saying though, just saying Pablo or Jose or Cesar or whatever the hell his name is probably was never a threat to begin with. Just a threat to animals. Not anymore though, right, Mister Dog? Freddy pat pats the big beast on the noggin.]
I don't know why you don't try to bite him in the nuts, dude.
[Huff. Kids these days. The sure as fuck dunno how to properly take care of anything starting out. He looked like a Javier. Just sort of put on airs. Poor Marisol. You can try and try, some causes are just lost.]
We don't need a nut biter. Even once might get him to like it.
[Mister Dog is wagging his tail. These ones are better. They drop food more and talk in nice voices to him.]
Speaking of stolen, is this the most you got away with?
[What act? How is it an act if you were actually a hero today, hah. Freddy gives another casual shrug.]
Self-defense. You saw him come at us. I used an appropriate range of force.
[Similarly that woman died because he did exactly what he was trained to do, shoot the chest. None of that shoot the gun out of her hands or shoot her in the leg movie studio bullshit. And yeah, Dimmy, sometimes he still feels bad about it.]
[To a very clever son of a gun. Cops can be slippery. He's known that for some time. The degree of cunning that Freddy has and uses is far more than the average person could understand.
Best let all the bad feelings fall away. Let the only one be his likely sore as fuck hand.]
Why? You feel like a real punk ass from the street.
[That ubiquitous, derogatory term is on his mind but not his lips.]
[It's hard to forget some rap song you hear blasting too loudly while someone is shaking and dancing to it in progressively less clothing.]
In your own way, yeah. You are. I don't think he'll soon forget you. Chances are you'll put on eighty more pounds and gain two more feet the more he tells the story.
[Mister Dog has now taken to leading. He is going away from the noisy, mean place. Their pad must be now burned into his memory. Smart dog.]
I don't reckon that he knows anyone worth calling in that favor. We better pray just in case he ain't getting a black eye.
[That blows all things considered, hell Freddy's more like average height south of the border while Larry's the giant of legend. Taller, thicker, older, gruffer. At least to scum.]
He better pray I never have to use the slug with his name on it in that case.
[Yeah, the kid, a (former) cop, just made a legitimate threat on someone's life. Only for self-defense purposes of course. Mister Dog understands, they don't bite until they have to bite back.]
If I'm the worst he can imagine, he needs a better imagination.
[Shrug there from his big shoulders. The old man is intimidating in his way. Cops still can and will make anyone piss their pants. It takes a type of person. Except with the kid out of uniform, how many will get the idea at all?]
Amen. We don't need that mess. There's enough for us to sort out.
[He pets Mister Dog who sort of headbutts his hand.]
[Freddy gives another shrug as if he's not quite sure that would be the case but it's only because sometimes he imagines Mr. White to be the meanest biggest baddest man in town...with a heart of gold for kids and women.]
So. What are we gonna do with this guy?
[He gives Mister Dog a light nudge with his foot. Of course he already knows the implied answer, the whole scene back there indicating he's willing to keep the dog. The kid just wants to hear the old man ask for it. Heh.]
[Don't forget canines! Fox faces sneaky ass cops too.]
Get him cleaned up. Feed him.
[Basic needs. When they took him in the first time it was a stepping stone to a big, lug of a well behaved hound. Mister Dog doesn't mind nudging. He is still going. Tail swaying a little.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
orangetoughguy) wrote2010-08-06 11:39 pm
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Who cares.
[They're not staying and neither is Mister Dog. He keeps his hand on the beast's collar solid.]
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I sure don't.
[Ain't hard to come on in the same way. Not hard at all. Except from behind them, from the blue house up ahead someone shouts.]
Is that my fucking dog?
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Cool. Let's keep going.
[His grip on Mister Dog's collar loosens up just so their pace can quicken but in a smooth and casual manner.]
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[Larry swallows and keeps his whole body facing away with Freddy, with Mister. Dog. Even though he's not looking he knows.]
I think that's Marisol's boy.
[And maybe if they pretend not to acknowledge they can get by.]
I said is that my fucking dog? Hey! Paco!
[Mister Dog doesn't stop but he makes a little whine noise and bumps into Larry's knee. What to do big human?]
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[Freddy huffs under his breath really more for the frustration of not making a clean getaway. But he keeps on walking with Larry, well aware Marisol's boy is gaining speed. Time it just right, Newendyke, time it just--]
Get the dog.
[Because the kid's letting go and whipping around to land his freckled fist into the punk's skull. It's a hard one. The kind mama tells you to knock a brother out.]
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His jaw drops and his heart leaps.]
Goddamn.
[The punk ass kid looks like he's got a hard case of whiplash, at least he will when he picks himself up off of the ground.]
We're outta here.
[No question.]
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[The woman goes from combative to doting in 0.2 seconds flat. She's on her knees at his side to see if he's okay and hisses at the two, telling those around her to get those gringos. Typical of the DV Farm Garden Variety. The other dog on the other hand is smarter, he just sits next to his downed master panting and drooling. Things are so much nicer when that brat is out cold. The neighborhood seems to agree, so far nobody steps up to the plate to follow them.]
That was hard.
[Freddy says through tense jaws because he won't stand to shake his fist out in public.] Head full of rocks.
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Fucking tough guy. Hot shot son of a bitch. Downing brown bums like they're literal shit.]
We'll talk about hard when we got better scenery.
[He clears his throat. The neighborhood around them is flowing from concerned at the fuss, sheer silent appreciation and now going back to the way they were with the sun still pretty high and hot.]
That was a good one.
[This is the very start of the flow of appreciation.]
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[Yep. That's dumb clueless talk for you, old man. What's so hard about it? Ahem. In any case the kid's on his way at similar pace, quickly getting out of there with Mister Dog in tow. It says just as much that the big beast doesn't hold them back.]
I know.
[Freddy crows. He knows a compliment on his cold clocking when he hears one.]
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Good form. Good timing. I'm pretty sure that shit had a gun or something.
[Still walking, walking. Mister Dog thinks they're going for a sprint and so really they're making brilliant time. The shrieking pitch of the girlfriend means they're still way, way back there as the sound fades.]
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[Not that those are good reasons to think little of a firearm. Freddy's just saying though, just saying Pablo or Jose or Cesar or whatever the hell his name is probably was never a threat to begin with. Just a threat to animals. Not anymore though, right, Mister Dog? Freddy pat pats the big beast on the noggin.]
I don't know why you don't try to bite him in the nuts, dude.
[He says to the dog.]
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[Huff. Kids these days. The sure as fuck dunno how to properly take care of anything starting out. He looked like a Javier. Just sort of put on airs. Poor Marisol. You can try and try, some causes are just lost.]
We don't need a nut biter. Even once might get him to like it.
[Mister Dog is wagging his tail. These ones are better. They drop food more and talk in nice voices to him.]
Speaking of stolen, is this the most you got away with?
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[He's not playing dumb, honest. Freddy just doesn't think this really qualifies as stealing so why would Larry ever ask such a preposterous question.]
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Assault.
[Not even close, Dimmy because he shot some lady in retaliation. Wouldn't that just be self defense?]
They should call you a one hit wonder.
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Self-defense. You saw him come at us. I used an appropriate range of force.
[Similarly that woman died because he did exactly what he was trained to do, shoot the chest. None of that shoot the gun out of her hands or shoot her in the leg movie studio bullshit. And yeah, Dimmy, sometimes he still feels bad about it.]
They should call me LL Cool J.
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[To a very clever son of a gun. Cops can be slippery. He's known that for some time. The degree of cunning that Freddy has and uses is far more than the average person could understand.
Best let all the bad feelings fall away. Let the only one be his likely sore as fuck hand.]
Why? You feel like a real punk ass from the street.
[That ubiquitous, derogatory term is on his mind but not his lips.]
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[The streets of Fresno then LA anyway. But that's not what he's getting at, Dimmy! Did the old man already forget one of his favorite jams?]
Because I knocked his ass out.
[A little puffing and preening here. How's Mister Dog doing anyway? He's part of the conversation despite speaking a somewhat different language.]
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In your own way, yeah. You are. I don't think he'll soon forget you. Chances are you'll put on eighty more pounds and gain two more feet the more he tells the story.
[Mister Dog has now taken to leading. He is going away from the noisy, mean place. Their pad must be now burned into his memory. Smart dog.]
I don't reckon that he knows anyone worth calling in that favor. We better pray just in case he ain't getting a black eye.
no subject
[That blows all things considered, hell Freddy's more like average height south of the border while Larry's the giant of legend. Taller, thicker, older, gruffer. At least to scum.]
He better pray I never have to use the slug with his name on it in that case.
[Yeah, the kid, a (former) cop, just made a legitimate threat on someone's life. Only for self-defense purposes of course. Mister Dog understands, they don't bite until they have to bite back.]
no subject
[Shrug there from his big shoulders. The old man is intimidating in his way. Cops still can and will make anyone piss their pants. It takes a type of person. Except with the kid out of uniform, how many will get the idea at all?]
Amen. We don't need that mess. There's enough for us to sort out.
[He pets Mister Dog who sort of headbutts his hand.]
At least we got to help out this guy.
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So. What are we gonna do with this guy?
[He gives Mister Dog a light nudge with his foot. Of course he already knows the implied answer, the whole scene back there indicating he's willing to keep the dog. The kid just wants to hear the old man ask for it. Heh.]
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Get him cleaned up. Feed him.
[Basic needs. When they took him in the first time it was a stepping stone to a big, lug of a well behaved hound. Mister Dog doesn't mind nudging. He is still going. Tail swaying a little.]