Post by Blkd-Tastic on Apr 6, 2010 11:21:12 GMT -5
Grayback juggled the groceries in his arms as he flipped the lightswitch with the brim of his hat, flooding the small but neat and tidy apartment. He glanced around, checking that everything was still where he'd left it. His gray gaze fell coldly on a furry black blob under the kitchen table.
Not where I left you. He thought, frowning to himself. The plastic bags and their contents hit the kitchen counter with a loud thunk, startling the dog beneath it into consciousness.
"Welcome back!" Grayback said with false cheer as he started piling things into the refrigerator.
"You too." Black mumbled from under the table, getting to his feet.
"I got some bologna and cheese." Gray back said, appearing under the table briefly and waving a plastic package dangerously close to Black's head. The dog flinched.
"Since when do you eat bologna?" He mumbled as he padded out from under the table. Grayback straitened up, frowning.
"You know, I don't." He said, still frowning. "I got it for you, mutts are supposed to like bologna, right? Anyway, why-"
"I don't like bologna either." Black pointed out, plopping down on the kitchen rug with an exasperated sigh.
"You're just weird." Grayback snapped, putting the bologna in the fridge. "Anyway, why are you here? I don't apreciate stalkers like you suddenly appearing in my kitchen." He slipped his hand in his pocket as he said, taking off the safety of the hand gun there with an ominous click.
The Black Dog leaped to his feet, all his fur stiking up in a million directions. Grayback smirked to himself at the mutt's reaction, silent laughter ringing in his mind.
"You're so gullible." He said, redoing the safety on the wheapon. Black still flinched at the second click, shooting a glare at what he apearently thought was Grayback. He missed and glared at the mayo on the table instead. "Never mind. Maybe I don't want to know..." Grayback said, eying the mayonnaise with sudden disgust. He adored playing with Black's head, but sometime's one can go to far into the lion's mouth..
The mutt continued to glare at the mayonaise. Grayback cleared his throat.
"Yoo, hoo, over here." He said patiently, thudding something inside the refrigerator especially hard. The dog's glare shifted over to Grayback, a hint of frustration in his eyes.
"Did you know that bologna is spelled B-O-L-O-G-N-A? It's absolutely nothing like it sounds." He said with an annoyed huff. Black looked slightly confused at the sudden change of subject. "What? I never knew how to spell it! It took the cashier fifteen minutes to explain to me how, and I still couldn't understand it." He came up for air, considerably more chatty than usual. "So I went and got some just to make sure." Grayback could just see the words going in one of Black's large ears and out the other. There weren't even any wheels turning. He frowned again. Apparently, he wasn't getting anything across.
Alright. Out. I have things to do, people to kill, I can't be your Nanny all day now, can I?" He said sternly, poking Black out from under the table with a broomstick and herding him toward the door. The dog sulked his way over the threshold, giving Grayback a pitiful look as the door was presently slammed on him.
Good, that's one parasite. He thought, cheerfully paging through the Sunday paper, bologna sizzling in the frying pan on the stove.
Not where I left you. He thought, frowning to himself. The plastic bags and their contents hit the kitchen counter with a loud thunk, startling the dog beneath it into consciousness.
"Welcome back!" Grayback said with false cheer as he started piling things into the refrigerator.
"You too." Black mumbled from under the table, getting to his feet.
"I got some bologna and cheese." Gray back said, appearing under the table briefly and waving a plastic package dangerously close to Black's head. The dog flinched.
"Since when do you eat bologna?" He mumbled as he padded out from under the table. Grayback straitened up, frowning.
"You know, I don't." He said, still frowning. "I got it for you, mutts are supposed to like bologna, right? Anyway, why-"
"I don't like bologna either." Black pointed out, plopping down on the kitchen rug with an exasperated sigh.
"You're just weird." Grayback snapped, putting the bologna in the fridge. "Anyway, why are you here? I don't apreciate stalkers like you suddenly appearing in my kitchen." He slipped his hand in his pocket as he said, taking off the safety of the hand gun there with an ominous click.
The Black Dog leaped to his feet, all his fur stiking up in a million directions. Grayback smirked to himself at the mutt's reaction, silent laughter ringing in his mind.
"You're so gullible." He said, redoing the safety on the wheapon. Black still flinched at the second click, shooting a glare at what he apearently thought was Grayback. He missed and glared at the mayo on the table instead. "Never mind. Maybe I don't want to know..." Grayback said, eying the mayonnaise with sudden disgust. He adored playing with Black's head, but sometime's one can go to far into the lion's mouth..
The mutt continued to glare at the mayonaise. Grayback cleared his throat.
"Yoo, hoo, over here." He said patiently, thudding something inside the refrigerator especially hard. The dog's glare shifted over to Grayback, a hint of frustration in his eyes.
"Did you know that bologna is spelled B-O-L-O-G-N-A? It's absolutely nothing like it sounds." He said with an annoyed huff. Black looked slightly confused at the sudden change of subject. "What? I never knew how to spell it! It took the cashier fifteen minutes to explain to me how, and I still couldn't understand it." He came up for air, considerably more chatty than usual. "So I went and got some just to make sure." Grayback could just see the words going in one of Black's large ears and out the other. There weren't even any wheels turning. He frowned again. Apparently, he wasn't getting anything across.
Alright. Out. I have things to do, people to kill, I can't be your Nanny all day now, can I?" He said sternly, poking Black out from under the table with a broomstick and herding him toward the door. The dog sulked his way over the threshold, giving Grayback a pitiful look as the door was presently slammed on him.
Good, that's one parasite. He thought, cheerfully paging through the Sunday paper, bologna sizzling in the frying pan on the stove.
