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Saturday, December 1, 2007

Spock and Nasty

Since it's December 1st already, here's a little dog and cat living together fantasy story for the Christmas season. Warning, no vampires, werewolves, or romance in this one. :)

“Oh crap!”

The long haired, black, Australian Shepherd, looked up with a bored expression from where he lay next to a six foot tall, fully decorated Christmas tree. His face looked as if he were wearing a light brown and white mask from his eyes to his stomach. As he raised his head, he acquired a silver tinsel hairpiece from the lower branches of the tree. He watched the mottled brown calico cat giving him paw signals from where she sat perched on the window sill, overlooking the street in front of the house.

“Come here, dog,” the cat drawled excitedly.

“If I move now, Nasty,” the dog replied calmly, “I’ll be wearing half this stupid tree. What gets into these people? Once a year I…”

“Spock, roll your mangy cur butt out from under the Christmas tree, and get over here,” Nasty hissed impatiently. “That dorky kid of yours found some nice hoodlums to play with out in the snow.”

The dog rolled out lithely from where he lay on the manger scene’s white cotton fake snow. Spock hurried over, and stretched up to poke his nose under the curtain. Shrugging the red and green holiday curtain out of his eyes, Spock focused on the curving snow covered sidewalk, bordering the street in front. He recognized the boy who lived in the house with them. Five kids chased the boy down the street.

“C’mon, Nick,” Spock urged, a low growl issuing from his throat, as he bared his teeth anxiously.

“Forget it, chum,” Nasty remarked, glancing from the street over to her canine friend. “Put a fork in him, he’s done.”

As if on cue, Nick’s pursuers caught up with him, and pushed the boy to the ground. Spock jumped down, and ran to the front door. He eyed the doorknob in frustration. “It’s locked Nas, give me a paw. You know I can’t turn this goofy lock face.”

The calico jumped down. With three long strides, she crossed the dark brown patterned shag carpet, and right up onto Spock’s rigid back. She balanced her hind paws expertly on his head, while she turned the small bayonet lock insert. After Nasty jumped down, Spock sat up, wrapping his paws around the brass knob. Pulling back as he twisted the doorknob counterclockwise, Spock popped the door open.

The screen door gave outward onto the walkway with another shove from Spock. Nasty stretched between the lower doorjamb and the screen, propping it open until Spock had hurtled past her. He bounded off the stoop, only to be pulled up short by a tortured mewling. Spock ran back. He stuck his head and shoulders between the screen door and the lock plate, just before the door crunched his partner. As Nasty dropped to the stoop, and ducked under the door, she gave Spock a swipe across his back right leg.

“Eeeeeeeeooooooooowwww,” Spock howled before pulling out of the doorway, giving Nasty an evil look before heading down the street.

“That’ll learn ya,” Nasty said as she followed after Spock’s running figure.

Nick’s tormentors stood in a semicircle around his curled up form, laughing while the leader of their little gang pushed Nick’s face into the snow. The leader heard a low reverberating growl, and looked up just in time to be knocked off his feet by Spock’s airborne figure. One of the other teenagers pulled back a leg to kick Spock from behind, and immediately grew a calico cat with claws on his poised leg. Nasty let go as the boy fell backwards into the snow, grabbing his leg in pain.

“Watch these punks scatter, Nas,” Spock said.

The teenagers, regrouping around their leader as he regained his feet, suddenly faced an eighty pound snapping, snarling monster. It only took a few seconds of Spock’s hound from hell act to put the gang into full retreat down the street. Spock looked back at Nasty with a grin. The calico ignored him while licking her right paw.

“Um, um good,” Nasty said, finishing her cleaning, “fifteen year old, stringy, but tasty.”

“Why you little ghoul,” Spock replied in disgust.

Nick, in the meantime had sat up, and watched his two pets in amazement. “You two always sound like you’re talking to each other.”

Spock came over and stuck his nose into Nick’s upturned face. Nasty rubbed up against Nick’s parka, purring like a Singer sewing machine. Nick put an arm around Spock’s neck, hugging the dog as he stroked his temperamental cat.

“Thanks guys, you were awesome. How the heck did you both get out of the house?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Nasty said. She turned and headed back to the house. After a few steps, she looked back at Spock. “Get dork-boy moving, Spock, I’m freezin’ my butt off out here.”

Spock yanked on Nick’s gloved hand, helping the boy to his feet. “C’mon, Nick, before the calico wonder really starts complaining.”

Nick dusted the snow off his coat and pants. Spock turned and followed Nasty towards the house. The early dusk of winter nights enveloped the area in grainy, graying light. As the three friends trekked home, multicolored Christmas lights began popping on at Nick’s neighbors’ houses. Flakes of snow began drifting lazily down in the now hushed silence of early evening darkness. Nick and Spock paused in front of a fully lighted manger scene, adorned with the figures of a long ago night in Bethlehem. The magic of a Christmas decoration moment changed abruptly, as a hissing calico hopped around in anger, drawing a laugh from the boy.

“Okay, okay,” Nick relented, moving again toward the house. “How about I cook you two up a nice hamburger steak, just to say thanks?”

“If you don’t get moving, dork-boy,” Nasty shivered, “you will be a hamburger steak.”

“Shut up, Nas,” Spock growled, drooling at the thought of such a treat.

“He can’t understand us, you moron,” Nasty said, hopping up on the front stoop of their house.

“A little respect in this people holiday season wouldn’t hurt you, you ungrateful hairball,” Spock admonished the cat.

“Hey,” Nasty retorted, clawing at the screen door, “if not for me, dork-boy here would be sticking face first in that snow bank, with his little black boots waving like party favors in the breeze.”

Nick opened the door, allowing his two pets to slip in between him and the door. He looked back at the glittering lights, blinking in the snowy December darkness.

“God bless us everyone,” Nick sighed.

“Get in here, fool,” Nasty hissed in the doorway. “Close the door, and get cookin’.”


Leigh Russell said...

I loved this. In my mind it played out like a cartoon. A really Christmasy story, with just the right amount of 'Aaah' factor. ('Aaah' as in 'that's sweet' not a bloodcurdling screaming 'Aaah'.)I hardly noticed the writing, just followed the story, which I think is a sign of good writing?

BernardL said...

Thanks, Leigh, I appreciate your comment. You deciphered it just the way I wanted: a little cartoon Christmas fun. :)

Tempest Knight said...

*LOL* For some reason it reminded me of Ren & Stimpy.

BernardL said...

There's no reason to get nasty, TK. :)