With a sigh of disgust, Toby
charged into the kitchen and noisily began moving dishes out of the
way to
get to the sink. Cranking on the hot water full blast, he submerged his hands in it. I handed Brutus back to the Maker. “Thank you." Cradling the Pomeranian in his arms like a baby, he scratched the dog's belly. “No problem. Be safe, Rose."
"We will.” I smiled. “Come on, guys,” I said as I turned to the door. Toby searched for something, anything, to dry his hands on. Finally giving up, he shook his head and wiped them on his pants. Without another word to the Maker, the Werewolf walked past me and out the door.
Karl hung his head and marched toward the door like a condemned prisoner heading to his execution. Stuffing his hands in his pocket, he stopped and looked up at me. “I knew you would get me killed.” Dropping his head again, he stepped outside and jumped off the steps. Turning back to the Maker, I shook my head. “Partners. They're such a pain in the ass.” As he laughed, I closed the door and headed for the car. Chapter "I always liked Scooby-Doo,” Toby remarked as he reached into the bag and pulled out a handful of curly fries left on the bottom from our fast food stop. The conversation had gradually shifted from our current situation to favorite television shows as we passed the time. The Sprite's red dot on the Maker's PDA was holding steady within a nearby building. We weren't exactly in a position to go charging in, so we decided to surveil the building. So far ... nothing. This place did seem familiar, though. I wasn't sure why. "Come on,” I shot back, “it was so predictable. In every episode, Velma finds that one clue that ties everything together perfectly, and then they capture and unmask the villain. And theyalways say...” I pointed to Karl.
"I would've gotten away with it if it weren't for you meddling kids,” Karl imitated, lowering his helium filled voice to sound a bit gruffer, “and your pesky dog." "That's what made it good.” Toby laughed. “It had the perfect ending. Everything was neatly wrapped up and you knew the world was safe until the next episode." "But life isn't like that,” I objected. "Exactly,” Toby pointed at me with a fry, “it isn't real life. It's television. Viewers don't want to be left hanging. They want a nice, tidy bow at the end of the episode." I looked at Toby curiously. “Why are you eating fast food?" "What?” Toby asked as he stuffed another handful of fries in his mouth.
get to the sink. Cranking on the hot water full blast, he submerged his hands in it. I handed Brutus back to the Maker. “Thank you." Cradling the Pomeranian in his arms like a baby, he scratched the dog's belly. “No problem. Be safe, Rose."
"We will.” I smiled. “Come on, guys,” I said as I turned to the door. Toby searched for something, anything, to dry his hands on. Finally giving up, he shook his head and wiped them on his pants. Without another word to the Maker, the Werewolf walked past me and out the door.
Karl hung his head and marched toward the door like a condemned prisoner heading to his execution. Stuffing his hands in his pocket, he stopped and looked up at me. “I knew you would get me killed.” Dropping his head again, he stepped outside and jumped off the steps. Turning back to the Maker, I shook my head. “Partners. They're such a pain in the ass.” As he laughed, I closed the door and headed for the car. Chapter "I always liked Scooby-Doo,” Toby remarked as he reached into the bag and pulled out a handful of curly fries left on the bottom from our fast food stop. The conversation had gradually shifted from our current situation to favorite television shows as we passed the time. The Sprite's red dot on the Maker's PDA was holding steady within a nearby building. We weren't exactly in a position to go charging in, so we decided to surveil the building. So far ... nothing. This place did seem familiar, though. I wasn't sure why. "Come on,” I shot back, “it was so predictable. In every episode, Velma finds that one clue that ties everything together perfectly, and then they capture and unmask the villain. And theyalways say...” I pointed to Karl.
"I would've gotten away with it if it weren't for you meddling kids,” Karl imitated, lowering his helium filled voice to sound a bit gruffer, “and your pesky dog." "That's what made it good.” Toby laughed. “It had the perfect ending. Everything was neatly wrapped up and you knew the world was safe until the next episode." "But life isn't like that,” I objected. "Exactly,” Toby pointed at me with a fry, “it isn't real life. It's television. Viewers don't want to be left hanging. They want a nice, tidy bow at the end of the episode." I looked at Toby curiously. “Why are you eating fast food?" "What?” Toby asked as he stuffed another handful of fries in his mouth.