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Author:  _Stu_ [ Mon Jul 09, 2012 1:20 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

Brutus and Sam... are brothers? :shock:

This is kinda unexpected

Author:  JeffCvt [ Mon Jul 09, 2012 2:35 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

Once again, you write it just like Stu is making a comic. I could picture every funny moment you put in there.

Author:  kavviyenta [ Mon Jul 09, 2012 2:37 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

Funny for Samson to be the younger yet bigger brother; justified since he worked out.

Very pleasant for a long breather episode with two events. Stu continued to be an excellent illustrator next to Evan for this story.

Spike should have told Sam that Brutus wore a dress. :lol:

Author:  valerio [ Sat Jul 14, 2012 12:26 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

Season III
Episode 17 – FATHER’S DAY

Ancient Roads Spice Shop, Terrace High. June 19, 2011

“…and if you want to add more flavor to the diet of your members without giving them problems to their nether regions, this spice mix—“ Again, the Basenji dog was interrupted by a snicker. He tried to control the urge to kill the responsible, basically for three reasons:

1) His reasonable part told him that the responsible wasn’t out to ruin his first official sell since working for the shop
2) He would get in trouble, and he had a girlfriend and he didn’t want to lose her and the job
3) The responsible for the repeated interruptions was the biggest dog of Terrace High. And no matter how strong the basenji became when under adrenaline rush, Samson Watkins could easily make a snack out of him if properly upset.

The human Kwesi was trying to sell the spices to sighed and turned. “Samson, for the last time: you behave or I’ll lock your sporting gear for two months. And you know I rarely joke.”
The hulking St. Bernard almost became pale. He gave one last look at the picture depicting a very, very embarrassed Brutus wearing a princess dress at the time he had almost made a stunt for an ad, then put the picture back into his collar. “Sorry, Dad. Kwesi.” He owed Spike big time for giving him a copy. It made up for Brutus showing everyone the picture of puppy Samson, runt of the litter.
Bruce Watkins turned his attention back to the dog wearing apron and gloves. “So, you were saying about this particular spice mix?”
Kwesi nodded. He was in his element, at last! His heart was swelling with pride at the idea of carrying on the family’s traditions, and he was determined to make Mr. Sandor, the shop owner, proud of him! “Yes, Sir. You see, what makes any dietary regime palatable is the flavor. And even if your athletes should eat only white boiled rice dressed with olive oil, throw in some water and a spoonful of this spice mix and they’ll ask for a second serving. Same thing with boiled fish: it will dispel that smell that for some reason most humans don’t find appealing and add the finest flavor.” Then Kwesi pointed a paw at the rack of glass jars with Arabian and English labels. “The mix comes in seventeen variations, covering all dishes. Including some desserts. And, as I said before, even the most…delicate diner can enjoy his diet without suffering in case of he--”
Bruce raised his hand. “I think I got that, thank you son. Well, you know what? I have five members who suffer from a common case of Appetitum Molestum, so I will try to season their prescribed diet with this mix. I’ll have three jars of vegetable spice mix, three of fish mix and three of rice & pasta mix.” He didn’t even ask if they accepted plastic –that was the only approved form of payment at Terrace High.
Kwesi’s eyes sparkled as he said, “Yes, Sir! I will put them in a bag for you, Sir!”
Bruce nodded as he waited, observing the dog going back to the mobile ladder and using it to take the items. A very disciplined dog, he was keeping his tail under check despite his body’s desire to wag it hard.
Once Kwesi had put the jars in three bags, he went to the cashier’s desk, where the owner, Alem Sandor Hassid, was waiting.
Bruce handed the man the credit card. “You have a good seller, here, Sir.”
The man nodded as he swiped the card in the POS. “That I know!” he said happily. His face seemed incapable of other expression than smiling. “I knew he had it in him when I hired him!” his voice was, apparently, set on ‘loud’, though it was pleasant to hear, mixed as it was with his Arab accent. He gave the receipt and the card to his customer. “Thank you and come back soon!”
As soon as door had closed behind the Watkins, Kwesi pumped his fist. “Yes!” And allowed himself to wag.
Sandor nodded. “You did good, boy. Now go help those nice ladies at the Italian isle. God help them, should they buy parsley instead of basil for their pizza. Americans!”
“On it, boss!”
“Do you still think to adopt him?” asked someone behind the man. A calm, drowsy voice with a hint of nonchalance.
Sandor shook his head. “Don’t know. It would surely make my brother mad, so it must be a good idea… But what does a dog know about the laws and the economy behind a shop? Poor boy would be eaten by lawyers. What a horrible fate.” He shivered. “And yet again, someone must have this shop, I can’t just sell it.” He watched Kwesi gesturing and putting on a very professional smile as he explained the wonders of a pepper/basil mix for pizza. It was hard to decide if the two crones were interested in his performance or in the product. The lad was surely cute, and it helped selling as he drew customers, but a dissatisfied customer, in the end, would not buy anymore…
“The fox. Though he inherited his owner’s shop, by law he can’t own it. The system gave the shop to the human’s brother, but made it so that every earned cent went to the fox. And since it’s Rommel who learnt how to run the shop, the human is there just to cover a legal loophole.”
Sandor scratched his chin. “Hmm, tricky but it could work… Problem is, my brother would first skin the dog and then hide the body rather than letting Kwesi earn a single dime. My two sisters’ husbands would help brother sell this shop. And my sisters would be beaten into submission if they protested.”
“You could appoint a friend as executor of your will and owner of the dog. Your family would oppose and start a legal battle, but in the end they’d lose. And you will scorn at them by your corner of the Harem Up There.”
Snador blushed. “Ali, you’re scandalous.”
“Not my fault if you fantasize about it at least once a week.”
“Hrmph! And how do you happen to know so much about legalities?”
“I listen.”
“Bah! Anyway, your plan can’t work. I have no friends to talk of. Every stupid lawyer could see through the trick. Poor Kwesi will not inherit my shop.”
“That’s because you keep missing the obvious choice.”
Sandor was about to ask what was that choice…but then another, feminine voice told him, “Mr. Sandor! Who are you talking to?”
The man started. “Uh! Eh, err, oh, nothing nothing! Poor ol’ crazy Sandor was speaking to himself about the new orders to place!” His eyes studied the two women. 70 year old each, dressed quite elegantly, their skin smoothed by generous doses of botox…and each carrying a basket filled with pizza spices, spiced preserves, and a tin of Sandor’s most expensive coffee.
The man’s pupils almost changed shape into the $ symbol, considering they had come just for pizza spice mix.
“This nice dog showed us to some of your most interesting product,” said the woman on the left.
“So we decided to try some for ourselves and bring some more to our club.” Which was the book club of which they were chairwomen. Not the most influential organization in the condominium, granted, but its membership was highly selected. One of its members was Kloe Karahalios, the second richest human being of Terrace High!
The women placed the basket onto the desk. Sandor started organizing the shop bags, then took the credit card. “You will not regret your choices, ma’am. Kwesi is our most experienced employee: his father is in the spice trade himself, in Africa.”
One of the women beamed. “Oh, really? That is so adorable. This young one has come such a long way to follow the traditions.” She patted Kwesi’s head. “Such a nice lad. We’ll spread the word, Mr. Sandor.” The women took the bags. “And good luck to you, too, Kwesi. You’re a very brave boy.”
After the door had jingled shut, Kwesi’s smile dissolved and he almost retched. “Mon, I almost preferred she was one of those dog-haters!” He then sighed.
“Customers have only one personality, my boy,” Sandor said “the one that buys.”
“Clients de mon père étaient désagréables, souvent têtu. Je n'aime pas la condescendance.”
The human listened with attention to that tirade. “Do you speak French?”
Oui. It’s my country’s second language. Why?”
Sandor rubbed his hands. “That’s great news! Throw in some of that while selling a product. Everyone loves some French! Don’t you happen to know some Italian, too? Women melt with that!”
“Err… I learnt some…”
“Wonderful! You’ll make a great shop owner!”
“Oh, nothing, just an idea that came to this silly Arabic mind.” The human’s eyes went to the wall clock. “Well, it’s lunch break time. Go enjoy your food and your free time, I have things to do right now.” He stripped the dog of the apron and pushed him towards the door. “Shoo, shoo!”
Kwesi found himself out of the shop without fully understanding what had just happened. He just knew one thing, if the digital watches outside the various shops were true: “It’s still one hour before lunch break…” And what was that thing about ownership? Kwesi shrugged –Arabic or not, Mr. Sandor was a weird human. “Oh, well, I had that book to finish, anyway.” He walked toward the stairs. Unless there was a real emergency, he’d refuse to use the elevator.
“Why, hel-LO, handsome!”
Kwesi started, recognizing the voice before getting a whiff of the otter’s scent. “Ah, hello, Errol, Can I help you?”
The river otter raised his paws in mock self-defense. “Relax, puppy. I know you’re into a healthy relationship with that Alandra girl. I just happened here and was curious seeing you out before lunch break: heck, someone thinks you have elected the place as your new home.”
“So you weren’t out to stalk me?”
The otter sighed. “Is that all you can think of me? Stalker at work?”
Kwesi was just about to say yes, but then he saw Errol’s expression. “Something wrong?”
While talking, they had reached a bench. They climbed up on it and sat down. “Depends. Considering that even that psycho puppy, Volant, got a loyal friend such as Elpis, and some supporters in the club… Well, my humble self must be really the king of monsters for not having a single friend. Hoyayz!”
Kwesi regarded him with curiosity. “What do you mean, you have no friends? You participate to all of the Club’s social activities—“
“And outside that I don’t get to spend my time with anyone.”
Kwesi just stood there, in the act of speaking, trying to come up with an argument…and finding none.
Errol laid against the backrest. “No one wants to spend some time with me, easy as that. I have to steal a moment from the others, just like now, just to chat. And as you said before, I’m just your happy stalker at work.”
Kwesi wanted to defend himself on that, say that he hadn’t even spoken that phrase…but the truth was, he had thought it as loud as if he had spoken it. Errol tended to be a bit too much…open with the pthers. He tended to made everyone embarrassed…whenever he spoke…
But who was Errol Berkowitz, come to think of it –beside his jokes and chipper attitude? After spending some time in the Club, or talking with Brother Lazarus, Kwesi knew something about all of the Love for Life’s first roster.
Except Errol.
“Well,” the otter said, starting to leave. “Been a pleasure. This lasted about ten minutes of uneasy silence, a record even for me. See ya later, handsome.” He had just hopped down the bench, when Kwesi said, “You know, in a way I am like you.”
Those words had the effect of freezing Errol on his steps. He turned, slowly, his expression suspicious. “…Really? How so, mon ami?”
Kwesi patted the spot at his left. “Come back up and I’ll tell you.”
Errol shrugged and did as was told. “So?”
The Basenji flashed a bitter smile. “I used to react like you to…new situations: I tried to be invisible in plain sight.”
The otter chuckled, but it came out a nervous sound. “I am not trying to be invisible.”
“Ne pas essayer d'être intelligente, pas moi. Mon ami.”
This time, it was the other who was left speechless.
“You know,” Kwesi went on, “I always disliked the others, never really trusted anyone. Being an African immigrant didn’t help me socialize. Believe me, too many humans rub off on their pets certain…ways of thinking.”
Errol snorted, and pointed at his chest with two fingers. “Canadian.”
“Whoops, sorry. Anyway, it took the patience of Lazarus and the affection of Alandra to start believing there was hope for me. You, on the other hand, seem quite the sociable character. Why do you want to keep yourself aside, while at the same time trying to blend with us?”
The otter tapped his own chin for a full minute, as if giving those words deep consideration…until he said, “Gee, Je ne sais vraiment pas. Perhaps is it because I am gay? Yes, that could be a problem, what do you think? And why are you looking at me like that?”
Kwesi was cocking his head on one side. “That would be a problem?”
Errol went BSOD, ears flattened and his jaws hanging law. “Beg your pardon..?”
Kwesi shrugged. “I have seen many things in my trips with family. And, well, let’s just say that I grew up finding pretty natural such manifestations of love. So, if your fear is to be judged for your orientation, know that you can talk openly with me and--*ack!*
Fast like lightning, Errol had hugged him in a vise! “Merci, merci, merci beaucoup!” He was almost sobbing with joy. At last, since moving here to Terrace, he had found a friend.
Kwesi wasn’t sure he had all ribs in place when he was again free to breathe. “So… Since I have—“ he checked again a clock “—one hour and a half to kill, why not show me to your place?”

Author:  Renkun [ Sat Jul 14, 2012 12:56 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

Finaly a new update I love your story Val ;)

Author:  valerio [ Sat Jul 14, 2012 1:17 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

thank you. Writer's block can be such a charming young woman sometime :mrgreen:

Author:  JeffCvt [ Sat Jul 14, 2012 2:01 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

valerio Wrote:
thank you. Writer's block can be such a charming young woman sometime :mrgreen:

I know.

But I'm glad to see everyone in Terrance High is doing well. Or at least getting to that point.

Author:  Skruffy [ Sun Jul 15, 2012 12:35 am ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

valerio Wrote:
“Ne pas essayer d'être intelligente, pas moi. Mon ami.”

My french is a bit rusty, does that translate to something along the lines of do not try to be smarter than me, my friend ?

Author:  valerio [ Sun Jul 15, 2012 2:31 am ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

it's along the line of 'you can't fool me'
Courtesy of google translator

Author:  angelusbr [ Mon Jul 16, 2012 6:16 am ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

valerio Wrote:
thank you. Writer's block can be such a charming young woman sometime :mrgreen:

I know the feel. Take your time. Sometimes the block just vanishes.

Author:  valerio [ Mon Jul 16, 2012 10:13 am ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

Berkowitz House, Apt. 490, Lev. 49, the Fulcrum, Terrace High

“So, what do you think of it?” It was the first time that Errol was so nervous…almost scared at the presence of anyone. Usually, it was him who’d scare the others away with his dubious jokes and approach.
But it was also the first time he had someone at his place. The Basenji dog that was staring wide-eyed at the enormous interior was right about one thing: Errol was afraid to invite someone in his life, even for a simple visit, because he was terrified of other pets’ judgment. He preferred to adopt a ‘first strike’ tactic and get labeled as the local weirdo rather than being vulnerable.
And it was the first time here at the High, that someone had openly claimed friendship. At that point, Errol had to risk, easy as that.
So, what did Kwesi Cira St. Anthony think of Errol Berkowitz’s place? “C'est pas croyable!”
Every apartment could be freely customized by their inhabitants. In the case of Berkowitz household, the theme was the open wilderness of Canada. Large digital pictures hung everywhere, in a scheme made to remind of those vast, untouched places. Every piece of furniture was studied to give the homey feeling of a chalet rather than the technological comfort of a hi-tech apartment. There were even real logs next to an enormous fireplace. The whole place smelled of wood, fir and cedar, but in a delicate mix, mixed to the fragrance of fresh river water and grass and rocks…
Kwesi closed his eyes, imagining how Elpis would have loved this place. “It’s such a wonderful place, Errol. Thank you for letting me in.”
The otter actually blushed, shuffling his paws. “Aw, thanks to you for asking. The best I had thought of was something to eat at The Treat.”
Kwesi was pleasantly surprised to see such a transformation. The manic otter was like a pup right now. Kwesi knew the feeling, and he felt proud he was the respository of such trust. “Well, do you have a collections of shells or what to show?”
“Heh, that is reserved to the beau who’ll win my heart. But I have other things to show you, come.” He walked in a hurry toward a door at the other end of the living room.
The door hissed open and Errol said, this time with the same pride a guide would show on his job, “And this is here is one of the last home tailor laboratories in the world.”
Kwesi was assailed by the smell of chemicals, cloth, leather, metal, glue… It was like looking through a window to the past. The laboratory held barely traces of technology –a sewing machine, a computer and other things which use he didn’t make out. But, overall, it was just a 19th century room. Kwesi didn’t dare to walk in, he felt too much…respect for this place.
“So, your owner is a tailor?” Kwesi said. “Does he own a shop?”
“Oui.” Errol closed the door. “He does both repairs and creates exclusive models for the jet set.”
Kwesi chuckled as he followed his friend upstairs. “Heh, I thought the jet set wore Armani, Prada and Vogue.”
“Vogue is a magazine, but I know what you mean. Well, some in the JS also want something really exclusive, completely custom made. And that’s when mon père comes in. Not to mention all of the special events and the parties for the less…rich people. Everyone wants to be dressed like a prince or a queen for an important occasion, and Dad’s shop will satisfy dreams for every price.”
“Wow, he must have a lot of work to do then.”
Errol nodded. “He’s always busy, which is good. And that leaves me a lot of free time, since he’ll be late almost every day… And here’s my room.” The door hissed open.
The apartments at level 49 were the top of the class, surpassed only by the single luxury one that occupied the whole 50th level. But that was understandable, since that level was home and office of R.R. Gottschalk.
Level 49’s apartments were each twice as large as the others. And it showed, as Kwesi saw that Errol’s room could’ve contained two rooms of his apartment.
The interior was a true-to-life reconstruction of a small cave, or rather, an otter’s lair. If otter lairs had TV, videogames, books and the stuff, that is.
“You could hold an RPG tournament inside this room, you know that?” Kwesi asked. “I can’t believe it you never invited the guys at the Club.”
Errol held himself in his arms. “Told you, I really don’t feel like—“ then he saw the dog’s sly grin. His eyes went pinpoint. “Ohh, no! You shall not dare, monsieur le chien!”
Kwesi was nodding. “Ohh, yes! I want to and I will. Tell me, mon ami, when is your birthday?”
By now, Errol was stuttering. Even his fur had gone a paler shade of silver. “No! I won’t tell! You won’t dare to organize a party here! Or even a game! O-or a jam session, nothing!”
“Oh, come on. How you’re supposed to meet the love of your life if you won’t even go social? Don’t tell me you opened a Facebook account under a fake name? That would be so cheap.”
“Are you insane?!” This time it came out in a very otter-like chirp. “What if a hacker decided to steal my data, my life? I would—Why are you looking at me like that?
Kwesi blinked a couple of times. “Mon, you’re really worked up about this, are you?”
Errol went and sat down on his bed. He was actually panting as if he had just gone through a physical effort. “I can’t. I mean, I don’t want to be alone, I’m tired of dreaming the right guy and sigh over pictures…but I can’t expose myself. Do you know why I moved to the US? And please don’t make Canada jokes about it.”
“Wasn’t even thinking one.”
The otter lowered his head. “I had, well, opened myself to a good friend of mine. We had known each other since our cubhood. And, well, he didn’t take it well.”
Kwesi’s ears lowered as he put a paw over Errol’s shoulder. “That bad?”
“I have lived alone since then. Even my family deserted me. In the wild, being gay is considered tantamount to a crime. And so, when Monsieur Berkowitz offered me to come with him, well, I decided I had nothing to lose after all. At least, I’d have a family though not a biological one.”
Kwesi was nodding at those words. “How did you two meet?”
Errol shrugged. “Meh, he was sightseeing the open country. He was hiking along the river when he saw me sitting at the riverside. He sat down a ten meters away and said, without even looking at me, ‘You know? It’s pretty shameful to see such a beautiful creature standing there all alone and looking so sad.’ Then he took a fish sandwich and held it out. And then he said, ‘My grandmother used to say, bless her soul, Nothing like a good morsel can take your worries away.’
“And, you know, it was so…weird. A moment before I was there, asking to myself what my life would be, without friends and mates, and now there was this human offering me food and chatting amiably with a feral as if it was the most natural thing.”
Kwesi was wagging. “So, it was love at first sight?”
The otter chuckled. “Watch it, dog. Anyway, in a sense it was. I needed someone to talk to, even my out-of-species friends had turned against me. And so there I was, sharing my heart with the most unusual of friends. When we were done talking, sunset had come. The human opened his backpack and started mounting his tent. And he said, ‘Well, since it looks like we’re going to spend the night together, best make the best of it, don’t you think? Not to mention that I have brought too many sandwiches. My fault, I really love them.’”
Kwesi laid down on the bed, arms crossed behind his head. “And so, from that moment on..?”
Errol nodded. “We became inseparable. I showed him around, brought him to the best spots for a photography. We fished together, had really a great time. And when the day he had to go back to his country came, I told him I wanted to come with him. Just like that. I didn’t want to miss the only chance of having a friend.”
“Aw, that’s sweet. But, really, if you found the courage to leave your country and stop being a feral, why not go all the way? It’s not that you’re here because you were forced to. Plus, if you think—“
“I know the drill,” the otter interrupted him. “Dad tells me that at least once a week. But, you know, it’s not the ‘no’ I am worried about. I mean, I’m not that optimist as to think I can find the right one at the first try only because I moved to the ‘land of opportunities’ and—“
“You’re blabbering again.”
Errol blushed. “Sorry. Well, I’m afraid that everyone will hate me and beat me and, well, reject me. Like the first time.” His eyes watered. “I like living here. I don’t want Dad do get scared for me. I don’t want to move again.”
Kwesi sighed. “And so, you prefer to keep the others at bay, being laughed at rather than scorned at.”
Errol nodded.
The dog, still looking at the ceiling, sighed. “You know, and this is something not even Alandra knows…” He paused, moving his brown eyes to his friend.
“Cross my heart, this stays between us.”
“I know it will. Anyway, I am on drugs.”
Errol’s eyes went pinpoint.
“I have this…problem with my temper, you see. You said Volant is a ‘psychopup’, but you never saw me lose control. They called me ‘Later’, back at the shelters, because I went off like a time-bomb, even hours after someone picked on me. And by then no one would understand why I was lashing out at the most unexpected moment. It took me a lot of effort to open myself to Brother Lazarus and tell him the truth, because I didn’t want him to regret the choice of keeping me at the chapel. I was really afraid he’d turn his back on me, like so many did before… Instead, he brought me to the veterinarian, and she prescribed me the pills. Since that day, my life has only been improving.”
“Do I hear a lesson in your words?”
Kwesi winked at him. “You know it already. Question is: do you trust me?”
Errol fiddled with his fingers a bit before saying, “Well, you’re very cute, so I think I can trust you?” He threw in a grin, just to stay on the safe side.
The Basenji sat up. “I guess it’s a good motivation. And then, I am a ladies’ doggy.” He flexed his pectorals.
The poor otter shot steam from his ears, as his pupils grew saucers-like and he clenched his fingers hard enough to rip the sheet –which was supposed to be claw-proof. “Don’t. Do. That. Again. Mon!
Kwesi fell back onto the bed, holding his tummy as he laughed hard. “Oh, bon sang! Your expression was simply fantastic.” He sat up, clearing a tear from his eyes.
Errol was still blushing. “That wasn’t funny.”
“Hehe…I’m sorry, I’m sorry, honest. Peace hug*urkie!*” he thought he had learnt how fast and powerful could be the otter’s hugs, but he was taken by surprise all the same.
“Merci,” Errol muttered. “Just knowing I can trust someone makes me feel so better.”
At that moment, Kwesis’s collar buzzed. While Errol kept hugging him, he produced his smartphone. The display showed his shop’s number. “Mr. Sandor, is there something wro—“ he was interrupted by a frantic sequence of Arabic excited words. Errol saw the dog go rigid with shock.
Kwesi listened, not really believing his ears. It was impossible to tell if it was joy, or fear causing that expression of utter disbelief. Errol was sincerely getting worried, and didn’t dare to ask what had just happened –and, with a bit of shame, he feared that he may lose his first friend ever at Terrace High.
Eventually, Kwesi said, “Errol, I need to connect to your PC.” And before the otter could ask why the unexpected question, the dog said with that flat voice, “I got a Cat’s Eye call. From my papa.”

Author:  JeffCvt [ Mon Jul 16, 2012 11:16 am ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

Kwesi has contact with his father. Val, please don't take too long with the next part, I want to know what happens. (Oh, and great update for everything else)

Author:  Renkun [ Mon Jul 16, 2012 4:02 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

Jeff we should Val not so rush.
When the next update finish is then comes it and no one want that Valerio a new writer's block becomes. :|

Author:  JeffCvt [ Mon Jul 16, 2012 4:07 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

I am not rushing him. I am simply asking him to hurry up and do the next part. Big difference.

Alright, really, I'm not trying to rush him. If he needs to take his time, then I want him to take it. I'm simply stating that I am looking forward to the next part because he is doing a good job.

Author:  legendario13 [ Mon Jul 16, 2012 9:28 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

so its the moment of truth for Kwesi, waiting

Author:  valerio [ Tue Jul 17, 2012 8:56 am ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

Berkowitz House, Apt. 490, Lev. 49, the Fulcrum, Terrace High

It comes the day, when the young leaves the old to walk his own road, to explore the vast horizon of his life. It is always a hard day, because you leave the comfort of what was familiar to venture into the unknown. Whatever happens from that day on will befall on your shoulders only. You will reap the harvest of your success, or starve with failure. But it will be your life, be proud of it, for even failure can teach you how to improve yourself. And always remember, you’ll never be on your own. Your family is in your heart. And you can call it anytime.
Those words had been a mantra for Kwesi Boustani since he was a pup. His father and mother would repeat them like a bedtime tale, for they prided themselves at the thought that one day their son could carry on their spice trading tradition, searching for new markets, new trade routes, just like his father had done back in his days.
But the humans living along their route had gone crazy. They were trading no other goods than weapons and death. They killed each other mercilessly, destroyed everything in their path. The spice route had grown dangerous by the year.
Kwesi knew that now, now that he could study the history of Africa. But then, when he had no access to the Internet, had no libraries to go to, no e-books to download, then Kwesi did not know anything about the humans’ wars. Father was wise, he’d wait rather than walking into a battlefield. Sometimes, he’d change route just to make sure his family wouldn’t be involved in a conflict. Kwesi had grown so close and so far from mass graveyards, burnt villages, the horror his parents wanted to keep away from. They too wanted him to find his own destiny, but not in this trade.
And so Kwesi’s parents had tried to divert his attention to other things to learn. Kwesi had not taken it well: he had grown learning the secret of the spices and the soil that fed them, he wanted to follow his papa’s tracks, not become something he didn’t want to. He had felt as if he was…imperfect, a failure. Every single male in his bloodline had been a trader, so why Kwesi wasn’t supposed to?!
Delusion had turned to self-pity, which turned to annoyance at his parents, and that fueled arguments, and the arguments had grown harsher.
Eventually, Kwesi had left his family, to become what he wanted to be, no matter what! He had taken a cargo ship to the United States of America. That hadn’t even been a reasonable choice, it was the first ship to leave the Egyptian port. Fate had chosen Kwesi’s path.
And here he was, now. After a series of failures and shattered dreams, after living like a stray, starving for most of his lonely days, his own life stuck because of a malady that had emerged after coming to this country, as if his own decision had sealed some ancient curse…
After all of this, despite all of this, here he was, a resident in a luxury condominium created for humans and animals, cured of his malady, and a spice trader, although not owner of his own trade…yet.
Things had gone well, the curse had been lifted. Kwesi should feel proud of his accomplishments…
And here he was, scared like a pup in for the scolding of his life.
No matter how he’d try to convince himself, Kwesi had abandoned his family. He had left his own land because he had had an argument. Not a blessing, but hatred had guided Kwesi’s actions.
He was scared.
He was happy.
He was sitting at his friend’s desk, looking at the large screen that showed an elder Basenji dog wearing a colored caftan. A dog who still looked strong and proud, despite the first hints of white sprayed on his lips.
Kwesi forced down the tears welling in his eyes. He didn’t want to act like a pup, not now that he had grown into an adult!
Behind Zuri, humans and occasionally some pet would walk by in a continuous flow, carrying bags, vases, or accompanied by mules loaded to limit of the most assorted goods.
Khan el-Khalili, the market of Cairo. It was considered the greatest honor among traders, to sell there.
Kwesi could almost smell the odors. Dog, did he miss that place, the culmination of their long travels from their home in Chad—
An angry argument had just started behind Kwesi’s father. The younger dog could recognize one of the voices –or rather, the yappy barking of her mother, one of the few canines who could stand against a human in a land where dogs weren’t exactly given any rights at all. And just because of that, mother could fight even harder than a human to make sure she stroke a good deal. Father was a siplomat, he worked magic during their travels so that the family was always well-provided for…but when they were at the Khan, it was Abebi who took the burden to sell. And she never failed. Their family’s spot was also known as ‘American Corner’, not because any US merchandise was sold there, but because all American tourists came to buy from the only canine spice dealers. Tourists, and the importer that had worked with their family since generations of Boustanis.
The same importer who then sold the imported goods to Mr. Sandor.
Kwesi’s fingers delicately caressed the screen. “I’m so happy to see you, baba,” he said, his voice trembling. “When I learnt about the revolts in Cairo…” he couldn’t find the courage to continue. Those terrible events had cost him many nightmares. Imagining the two persons he loved most at the mercy of war-crazed humans…
Zuri returned the gesture. “We weren’t even there when it happened. You know we always leave right after Christmas, after striking the last deals with the tourists.” Which meant ‘running out of merchandise’. By then, they invested some money in food and other goods to trade for spice on the way back. Yes, Kwesi knew that, but that didn’t smother the fears. Fears he had never confided to anyone, not even Alandra… “I can hear that mama is fine,” Kwesi said.
“Oh, yes. She still has the fire. Once she tried to bite off an American woman’s finger for giving her a scratch. She was so upset, the lady paid her an extra to make up.”
Kwesi chuckled. “Tell her I love her… I…” his breath was becoming ragged. It gave him a headache to control himself. “I’m sorry, baba. I’m so sorry for abandoning you and mama, sneaking away like a dishonored thief… I miss you.”
“Don’t be,” Zuri said. He showed that familiar smile that he used every time he wanted he wanted to scold him without hurting his feelings. “And we miss you too so much it hurts, but we’re proud of you, son.”
Okay, that was so not expected. Kwesi’s ears went up with a ‘boing’. He mumbled something interrogative in Arabic.
But if Zuri was making fun of the blood of his blood, he was very good at showing it. In fact, he went on, “Kwesi, my only son, you left us to become an adult, to pursue your dream. And that you did. What else is there to say? You are carrying on your family’s tradition, though in another country. And fate put you in the hands of my old human friend.
“So, yes, Kwesi, you were meant to be a spice trader just like those who came after you. And I…” he hesitated. After almost ten seconds, a black paw slapped Zuri behind his head.
“You still wasting our son’s precious time, you lazytail?!” barked a female. A moment later, Abebi Boustani, a black-furred specimen where the males were brown and white, appeared on the screen. “Oh, here you are, my pup! Look at yourself, you’ve become so handsome!”
Kwesi blushed, at the same time feeling the cry mounting in his throat. “Mama… It’s so good to see you too…” he touched the screen again. “Vous aussi être beau.”
“I know that, pup. Your father must still defend my honor along the route. Oh, and he was trying to tell you he’s sorry for angering you to the point of making you run away.”
This time, it was Zuri who was blushing under the stern expression of his mate and wife. “I am sorry, son. Not only did I humiliate your heart’s desires, but I also endangered our family’s tradition. You are our only heir, so please forgive me for not treating you as such.” And to underline that concept, Zuri bowed. The first time ever he did that to his son!
Kwesi felt dizzy, all sadness and fears abandoned. He had left an angry pup and had truly become a dog, recognized by his father!
Abebi almost pushed her husband away. “Mr. Sandor told us you are doing a great job for him. Keep up the good work, do not dare to leave your new country, pup!”
“I’m sure you’ll come and visit us, but now you need to do more experience! You must be a good seller, or all your knowledge will serve no good to—“ she turned suddenly, letting out a monstrous growl. “You! Do not dare to open the vases! This stuff is not to be sniffed like some powdered anise! Shoo!” she walked away from the camera.
It was as if all that time had not passed at all for Kwesi. He wasn’t in a room talking through an internet connection. He was there, with them, taking care of their shop and examining closely the tourists, telling apart the shoplifters from the genuine customers…
“I have talked about you to our friends here. We will throw a nice party for when you come. You have made the first Boustani proud, too.” Their family came from a long way back, both in time and space, being the first dog a property of a spice trader in Lebanon. Discovering new horizons was in the family’s DNA, and Kwesi was truly the first to bring their tradition so far from home, just like the first Boustani did when he moved to Chad...
Kwesi nodded. “I will be with you soon, I promise. I love you, baba.”
“We love you too. Now get back to your job.” And the communication went off.
“I’ll be with you soon,” Kwesi repeated to a black monitor, caressing it with his fingertips. His heart was beating wild, his breath came in ragged gasps. All these years, he had shielded himself to his own emotions, denying the full impact of his choice. But now he had seen his parents, he had spoken to them. He felt torn apart –he did feel proud of his accomplishments, but that feeling came with a hollow aftertaste, a sensation of futility, for he fully understood how much he was stranded from home!
He wasn’t happy! He wanted to be home! He…he…
Orange-furred arms wrapped him lightly from behind, startling him. For an absurd moment he didn’t recognize the coat, but the scent, that he knew. “..Ali?”
Alandra was bent over him. “Errol called me. He thought you might need help now.”
When the chair turned, the dog was crying openly now. He didn’t say anything, there was no need to.

Author:  JeffCvt [ Tue Jul 17, 2012 9:38 am ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

I don't have much to say. That was just... just...
Beyond my words. (In a good way. I want to make sure you know that I mean that in a good way.)

Author:  valerio [ Tue Jul 17, 2012 9:45 am ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

ookay, so I'll just slow it down the next update so you can find those words :mrgreen:
KIDDING! Just kid*brick'd*

Author:  angelusbr [ Tue Jul 17, 2012 12:43 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

I can't blink withou missing several updates.

Author:  valerio [ Wed Jul 18, 2012 10:34 am ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

Berkowitz House

“Feeling better, mon ami?” the otter asked, handing out a chocolate cup.
Kwesi took it gratefully and sipped. His paws were still trembling. He nodded weakly. “Yes. Merci.” He then turned his eyes to the Maine coon mix sitting at his right. “Thank you for coming, Ali. I so hate to cry on someone’s shoul—“ he was interrupted by a paw running over his snout.
“Now don’t be silly. You need someone at your side now, you can’t bear such weights all on your own.” She sighed. “I still miss my Antonio, and even my old home despite it not being the comfiest of places. But at least I could move here with my Dad. Your kin is still back in Africa. So stop torturing yourself with this ‘male pride’ thing. It will only kill you.” She cocked her head and bent it forward to place a peck on the canine lips. “I love you Kwesi Boustani. And great family name too. Shame on you for hiding it to me.”
Kwesi lowered his head, blushing. “I guess that was part of my…rejection process. I didn’t want to admit what I had left behind, so—“
“Kidding!” she interrupted him. “Kibble! You really mean to lighten up, love, ok? And to think that you were supposed to help out Errol here.”
The otter slapped the Basenji dog on his back, hard, making him yelp. “My friend, I think I just decided to follow your advice! Errol Berkowitz is coming out at last! Boys, beware!”
Kwesi blinked at him a couple of times.
The mustelid seemed to deflate. “Oi, you know how to kill one’s enthusiasm.”
This time, Alandra bent forward and slapped the otter on the muzzle, making him chirp with pain, “And shame on you, Errol! Right now it’s Kwesi who needs help!”
“Sorry…” Errol rubbed his snout. “I was trying to distract him.”
The dog put down his cup. “You’re right. You just caught me by surprise, my friend. And I think it’s a great idea that you decided to open yourself.”
It was Alandra’s turn to be puzzled, as those words started slowly sinking in. “Uh, guys, what is happening here?”
The two males exchanged a look. “You didn’t tell her?” Kwesi asked Errol.
“It wasn’t the moment!” the otter defended himself. “I mean, mon! You were out cold for half an hour, and poor Ali was so worried and watching over like you like a mama hen! I couldn’t just tell her, ‘Oh, by the way, you know, I’m gay’!” As he had said that, he clasped his paws around his muzzle so hard that he hurt himself. Still keeping that pose, he looked slowly at Alandra…
Kwesi facepawlmed. “Didn’t you just say you were ready to come out?”
The cat just said. “Oh.”
Errol was starting to look down, but then Kwesi put an arm around his shoulders and said, “And you better like it, Ali, because I’m with him all the way.”
Alandra blinked. “Uh, no, no, no! I mean, I was just taken by surprise! Really, I’m happy you decided to say it openly! We will all be happy to help you out, though right now it’s Kwesi who needs help.” She flashed one of those cat grins which only a fool could mistake as friendly.
Kwesi stood up. “Well, I guess I better go back to the shop. I’m late.” Too many emotions in a row had caused him to faint, much to his shame.
“I’ll come with you,” Alandra offered.
“You won’t leave without me,” Errol added.

This time, they took the elevator. Kwesi’s legs were still trembling. Yes, he still felt weak like a newborn puppy, but at least his old ghosts had been put to sleep.
Now he had to deal with one new ghost, and that was the reason his eyes weren’t reflecting the pale smile on his lips.
“Is there something wrong?” Alandra asked, holding his paw.
Kwesi sighed. “Well, it’s…complicated. I am not ready to talk about it, not now.”
The cat frowned, but then nodded. She squeezed his paw encouragingly again. “Take your time, then.”
The short rest of the trip down to the commercial area was spent in an awkward silence. And when the doors opened, Kwesi said, “Well, I guess this is my stop. Thank you for everything, friends.” He left the cabin, hurrying toward the spice shop. He made it in time to hear Errol saying to Alandra, “Soo, do you think you know someone swinging my si—“ then the doors closed. Kwesi smiled –yes, he was lucky to have them.

When the electronic jingle announced his comeback, Kwesi said, “I’m sorry for being late, Mr. Sandor, I—“
The shop was empty. A tumbleweed rustled by.
Kwesi looked around. “Mr. Sandor?” Perhaps he was in the stock room—
“He’s not here,” said a quiet voice, the moment he walked by the counter. Kwesi almost got a heart attack, not recognizing the voice –in fact, forgetting there was always another living being in the shop at all.
“Alì,” the dog said, just like Newman would address Seinfeld. He walked behind the counter and reached the cat statue sitting on a stool in a placid, meditating pose. “What do you mean ‘he’s not here’? I know Mr. Sandor wouldn’t leave the shop during working hours, unless for an emergency.”
The statue’s eyes opened. The cat yawned loudly, then turned his head. “This is as much important, canine. You just wait and see. In the meantime, he asked, you run the shop. Do you think you can do it?”
In answer, Kwesi went and took the stool he used to reach the countertop and work at the till. He was glad no one was coming, he badly needed to talk to someone. “Alì?”
“Do you realize I could just ignore you?”
“I know, but this is important. I need some advice.”
“Then talk, and you better not waste my precious energies.” Funny things to say, considering that the obese creature was the only known cat who would lay in a permanent state of immobility –at least, no one had seen him moving more than a paw, so far.
Kwesi sighed, as he put his elbows on the countertop and his chin against his palms, his eyes turned at the door without really seeing it. “Today I talked with my parents at last.”
“That I know.”
“They gave me their blessing. They are happy that I am carrying on the family tradition.”
Kwesi bit his lip, weighing his thoughts as if he was preparing the same words he’d use with Alandra… And he felt something sour accumulating in his stomach as he said, “I should consider seeking for a mate.”
“Interesting choice of words, considering you have one already.”
The dog rolled his eyes. “No! I mean, yes, Alandra is nothing short that wonderful to me, but…” How could he tell her without sounding a perfect moron?!
“You need to give your family a male descendant at least.”
Kwesi lay his head against the wood, as if it was the beheading log. “Yes. I am no longer a rebel, I am not doing this for myself only. I am a Boustani, and I can’t just get old without a male descendant who’ll take this job when I’m gone. I’m of age to marry.”
“But you fear you’ll lose Alandra.”
“I must make a choice. She can’t bear cubs with me, and…she’s not a Basenji anyway.”
“I see. Have you considered other options?”
“Is there any?”
Alì rolled his eyes. “There are. Just be patient, all of your doubts will soon be dispelled. Now let me get back to my nap, or you’ll lose your masculinity.” With that he closed his eyes and went back to his statuesque immobility.
Kwesi wanted badly to ask the cat what he had just meant, but he knew that Alì wasn’t kidding. So he just put on his apron and contented himself with checking the merchandise and do an inventory, hoping it’d help him to quench his anxiety.
It didn’t. The poor dog felt as if he was cheating on her! And he liked her, too, it wasn’t just a fleeting holiday romance!
But he had his duties, he couldn’t let his family end with him, not after reaching his goal at last…
The chime jingled behind him, making him start. He quickly wiped off the new tears off his face before turning, an amiable smile on his lips. “Welcome, Sir or Ma’am, how can I—“
“That’s the good spirit, but a customer I am not,” laughed Sandor. He went to the counter, where he took his own apron. “Good to see you here, boy! Now, tell me one thing: would you like to be my pet?”
Kwesi frowned. “Uhh, I’m not sure, Sir. I mean, thank you, but—“
Alem waved those words off. “It doesn’t really matter. Brother Lazarus and I just went to the Adoptions Department and signed all the papers. You are my dog now, my first son. Aren’t you happy?”
Had a new customer stepped in right in that moment, he or she would’ve wondered what was doing a statue in the middle of the aisle.
Kwesi remained in that state of apparent death for about ten minutes! Eventually he just muttered “ماذا؟”
Alem was writing his next orders on an order book. “You heard me, Kwesi. You can call me Dad, or baba, if you want. Just not ‘Abby’. In this strange country it’s too feminime.” He then tapped the pencil over his chin. “Hm, yes, baba is exotic and cuter. If you want you can use it at work too. It gives the customer a sense of working with a family. Helps business! And I’ll call you just son, Kwesi Boustain ibn Alen.”
Kwesi shook his head, then slapped himself hard, just to make sure he was awake. “B-but, I…”
But by then, the man was in full ranting mode. It was like listening to a merry cyclone speaking. “Nonsense, nonsense! Son, I need someone who will carry on my job. Who better than you? I am not living forever, and should something happen to me, you or your pups will take my place. I am working on that as well. By the way, we should also start looking for a nice pup to adopt, you too will not get younger by the year. I’d get you a nice basenji lady, but I can’t pay for a third mouth to feed, a pup will be trouble enough, pssh! Oh, and you better discipline him, I don’t want a messy house to deal with. Speaking of which, you get up first in the morning to clean. I can’t afford a cleaning lady. You clean, I cook. I pick up the site for our vacations, no arguments. In return, you get good food, not dog food. When you meet my family you’ll be nice to them even if you’ll want to bite them. They will hate you because you’ll be my legitimate heir, I will speak with lawyers about that. And no preferences on the job! You work good you get praise, you work bad you get scolding. Everything clear?” He slapped the book shut then handed it to the dog. “Now be a good son and go to the computer. Place order to our importer. You can also attach a message for your abby if you want. After you’re done placing the order, you can go home and make yourself comfortable. You’ll share room with Alì for now. Address is 22-222. Easy to remember, yes? Now go, go.”
“Uhhh…” Kwesi took the order book and walked toward the office, still not realizing what had just happened.
What had happened? A homeless canine had just become part of a family and with the prospect of a son? Without having to renounce to Alandra? “Uhh…”
He walked into the office and turned on the computer. He did as he had seen Mr. Sandor do, his fingers moving mechanically on the keyboard.
He had a home.
He had a family.
He would have a pup.
He would keep his girlfriend. His parents would raise hackles to say the least but who cared?
He would start his own spice trade!
As the concepts of that revolution started sinking in, the adrenaline made the keyboard click faster and faster and the pages of the order book flip like leaves in a storm. And an immense grin was threatening to split his face.
Still grinning, he ended the procedure, sent the order, and left the office on a run.
“I heard you working. Very good, you were fast, I like—“ A moment later, Alem was being assaulted by a Very Happy dog! The man had to hold him, for Kwesi was now hanging by his neck, nuzzling it.
“Shukran, shukran, shukran…” the dog repeated. “لست أهلا، أنا لا أستحق ... I’m not worthy, I don’t deserve…”
The man patted his back. “Nonsense, nonsense, boy. I told you, I need that someone took care of my business. Stop wasting my time and go visit your new home. And don’t forget to clean up a bit. You’re family now, not a guest, and I’m no Uncle Martin. Shoo, shoo!”
Kwesi hopped down and was out in a flash… And stopped when, once the door had closed behind him, he saw the two figures waiting for him outside. “Ali? Errol?”
Cat and otter were there, sitting on the same bench he had shared with Errol a few hours ago. “Guys, what are you doing here?”
The otter shrugged. “We couldn’t just walk away as if everything were OK. Sorry, but you need—“
“I GOT EVERYTHING!” Kwesi shouted and lifted Alandra into his arms, doing spins until she was sure she was getting dizzy. Then he kissed her cheeks repeatedly, like a woodpecker pecking its favorite bark. “I got it all! I was just adopted by Mr. Sandor! And we are gonna adopt a male pup so the family tradition can be passed! And you and I can stay together, I won’t have to choose! Ali, I’m gonna live here for the rest of my life. With you!”
“You are going to be papa?” Errol asked. “Ohh, I so love cubs, kits, kittens, anything small fluffy and helpless! Can I come with you to choose it?”
Kwesi put Alandra down. “Nah, I already know what he will be: a nice Basenji like his papa, and like his grandpapa and so on… But don’t you guys want to come with me to see my new home?” he was practically bouncing on his feet, his paws clasped like an overexcited pup.
Alandra kissed the dog’s snout. “I’d come gladly, but I have to go back home to tend to the plants, and keep an eye on Mac. He still loves to play the mighty hunter with Dad.”
Kwesi nodded. “Ok. You’ll find me at 22-222. Let’s go, Errol!” And he dashed.
Alandra kept waving at the two friends, until they had disappeared behind a corner. No doubt Kwesi wanted to walk all the way up.
She, on the other hand, walked to the elevator and went inside, her face a neutral mask to whomever would’ve met her.
Garcia House, Lev. 33, Apt. 333

Alandra’s worries would have proved unfounded, had she seen the 7 feet-long python sleeping on the branch of the balsa tree growing at the center of the apartment. Hector Garcia, Alandra’s owner, had found many interesting application for the wood of the fast-growing plant. He had his own carpentry laboratory, which he used to create useful tools for everyday life, or he sold the wood to the High’s furniture factory and shop. Luckily, the controlled climate and the anti-pests measures prevented unwanted infestations, but still it was a job to take care of the tree so that it wouldn’t damage the apartment during its growth.
Macajuel loved the tree because it reminded him of home. Too bad there was a scarcity of prey. Hector was strictly vegetarian, and Alandra, though not a vegetarian herself, wasn’t a hunter. She loved microwaved frozen food…
Mac woke up at the sound of the door hissing open. “Alandra,” he said, knowing the human wouldn’t be back yet. “Welcome back. I was thinking—“
She just walked past the tree and up the stairs…but after the first three steps, her back sagged. She walked back to the tree and sat down on the grass surrounding it. “I think Kwesi doesn’t love me,” she said, her voice empty and tired.
She barely noticed the rustling sound the snake made, as Mac crawled down the branch. She didn’t react when he landed over her shoulders, his snout close to hers. “Why do you say so? Did you two have a fight?”
The cat shook her head, then recapped what had just happened. “It just came out, like this.” She snapped her fingers, then fell silent, as if weighing her thoughts.
Mac rested his head over her shoulders. It was the first time he saw her so distressed, and it made him feel…strange. A cynical crook at heart, Mac had never nurtured any feeling toward other living beings. To him, the sanctity of life was overrated, that was why the Colonel appreciated him. Mac’s loyalty didn’t come from capricious feelings, but from pragmatism.
It was also true that, since he had become a pet to one of the most ferocious FARC brass, he was never shown any real good feeling. Piper was a ‘friend’ as if one could consider such a longtime comrade in arms, and they weren’t exactly buddies…
Alandra was the first to have welcomed the couple to crash at her place. She had shown them nothing less than real friendship, unlike every other pet. At first, Mac’s feelings for her consisted of pure indifference. She was useful, and that was it.
But, as the months passed, the snake had grown fond of her. She too was Colombian, and they and Piper had started sharing tales of their lives. In private, the parrot made fun of her, but Mac respected the tenacious spirit of this mammal who fought against all odds. Even the Colonel had been properly impressed by her and her human…
Alandra sighed, as she hugged the python. “No sé qué hacer, Mac. I’m not even sure what he meant, it’s s-so hard to get him to open himself, and now I discover he may have planned to leave me…” she had made a great effort to trust herself into a new relationship, after Antonio… She had done her best to be of support to Kwesi…only to discover she was expendable!
The reasonable part of her tried to warn her that she hadn’t listened to the full story, that she had to ask Kwesi what he had meant.
But it was a small voice compared to the roar of her fears.
And if Alandra was lost in her doubts, asking herself again and again what she could do, Macajuel had a precise idea…


Author:  JeffCvt [ Wed Jul 18, 2012 10:55 am ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

I don't trust that snake...
I would say that something about him is untrustworthy, but we already know that.

Author:  RandomGeekNamedBrent [ Thu Jul 19, 2012 12:14 am ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

valerio Wrote:
“Alì,” the dog said, just like Norman would address Seinfeld.

actually, it's "Newman"

I figured that Mr. Sandor would adopt Kwesi eventually, it was just a matter of time.

and I don't like the sound of that last line. :shock:

Author:  valerio [ Thu Jul 19, 2012 1:33 am ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

corrected. Thank you.
Also, now self is working on the table of contents for the series. Will take its time, so no update until I'm done. Sorry.

Author:  legendario13 [ Mon Jul 23, 2012 9:03 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

Mac has a good side.. sure Piper can ruin it at any moment

Will wait, no Prob'

Author:  KogaShinigami [ Wed Aug 08, 2012 4:39 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

Wow! This is really something else! I just started reading this and I have to say, you are very talented! Plot line wise, I would love see more.

I can only hope that writing style is half as good as yours in a few years.^^

Author:  valerio [ Thu Aug 09, 2012 3:25 am ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

thank you new reader! :D :D
I'm on a sort of hiatus, on September I'll be back in full force.
Hope you keep liking what you read 8-)

Author:  Renkun [ Thu Aug 09, 2012 11:08 am ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

So long that is horrible know you excatly how much I it hate to wait Valerio.... :cry:

But so have I enough time to read it again from Season 1 and your write error's to collect :lol:

Author:  musclecar326 [ Mon Sep 10, 2012 7:56 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

I'm not trying to hurry you Val. But is the hiatus lifted yet? I wanna know because this is the best fan-fic on here. So is it?

Author:  valerio [ Thu Sep 13, 2012 9:12 am ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

Sorry for the wait guys. I've been having these...depression issues. they come and go and they leave me drained, too tired to think of a decent story.
Sorry again

Author:  musclecar326 [ Thu Sep 13, 2012 9:24 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

No, No take your time, I was just reviving the thread. Deal with what you need to, we can wait some more.

Author:  JeffCvt [ Fri Sep 14, 2012 2:57 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

Yea, we can wait.

I know exactly how you feel. Take your time if you need it. We don't want to see you quit this fic because you forced yourself to write when you shouldn't have.

Get better soon.

Author:  RandomGeekNamedBrent [ Fri Sep 14, 2012 2:59 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

you usually update this often enough that we will never have any right to demand that you update faster if you don't feel up to it. You don't owe us anything.

we can wait.

Author:  legendario13 [ Fri Sep 14, 2012 3:31 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

Take your time.
as Brent said. quite the opposite we own you.

Author:  RandomGeekNamedBrent [ Fri Sep 14, 2012 3:36 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

legendario13 Wrote:
we own you.

okay, I know that's not what you intended to say, but that's still a funny mistake. :lol:

Author:  legendario13 [ Fri Sep 14, 2012 4:06 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

RandomGeekNamedBrent Wrote:
legendario13 Wrote:
we own you.

okay, I know that's not what you intended to say, but that's still a funny mistake. :lol:

Oh, sorry. wasnt paying attention.


HAHA sorry :oops:

Author:  _Stu_ [ Sat Sep 15, 2012 5:28 am ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

Don't worry Valerio, just take your time, no one's forcing you. Health >>>>> everything else

Author:  Zukio [ Sat Sep 15, 2012 12:10 pm ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

I hope you feel better soon Val! I know Depression can really drag someone down. Everyone can wait, besides I'm still trying to catch up. :lol:

Author:  angelusbr [ Mon Sep 17, 2012 8:45 am ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

and I had a lot of catching up to do. great stuff as always.
Also don't worry, Valerio. Reast easy.

Author:  valerio [ Mon Sep 17, 2012 10:01 am ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

Season III
Episode 18 – Love and Tribulations

The Ancient Roads spice shop, Terrace High. July 2011

“Hi, K!”
“Gak!” the sudden, cheerful voice behind him caused the Basenji dog to start and drop the glass jar containing the fine spices on sale. A part of him was already watching his life as if in a movie, when a golden-furred paw grabbed the jar at the last moment.
“I guess this is yours. Sorry,” said the Golden Retriever, handing the jar back.
Kwesi C. Hassid almost growled as he snatched it. “Do you have an idea of the costs of this stuff, Elliot?! Here we don’t sell the pepper you douse on your Sunday barbecue!”
“Sorry, but—“ He was brusquely interrupted.
“My family risks its life to get it. Show more respect to them, at least.”
Elliot Bannister sighed. “Again, sorry. Anyway, we had come just to talk about them. In a way.”
The basenji cocked his head with puzzlement. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, it was because of family matters that you and Alandra broke up a month ago, right?”
Back was the scowl, though the words came in that weird self-controlled tone. “We did not ‘break up’. We decided there were certain…cultural differences we couldn’t settle.”
“Like the fact that you felt bound to marry a nice doggie female of breed in order to sire pups and continue the spice-selling family tradition, right?” the Retriever asked with a grin. He knew he could provoke Kwesi for at least one hour, before he lost his patience. Kwesi suffered from this strange condition which had earned him the nickname ‘Cira’, or ‘later’. He could stand any verbal assault and even hold back from a fight after being attacked first, but it took him not less than an hour, sharp as a clock, and then bam! his wolf side decided to fight back, and with a vengeance!
Elliot knew that if this didn’t work, he was in for a world of pain. Once he had seen Kwesi lose it, and it was much like seeing Grape, or Volant, in a killing spree –no, worse. Volant was a big dog with a big trauma. Grape was…well, Grape. This not-beefy doggie was like a cute, miniature shark waiting to bite!
“Why are you shivering, now?” Kwesi asked him.
Elliot gulped. “Dunno. I was thinking about politics all of a sudden. Anyway, I guess that the real problem here is that you are divided between your loyalty to the traditions and your feelings for Alandra. Right?”
Kwesi sighed. “It’s more complicated, but yes if you like.”
“Sooo…” back was the grin. “Given the chance, you could try and find a solution. Capra e cavoli, you know.”
Kwesi knew sufficiently Italian to get the meaning: kill two birds with one stone. “No,” he said, turning his head. “She decided not to listen to me, and I will not degrade myself and beg her. I am the male, and I have a dignity to defend. If she loves me, she will come back to me and apologize.”
“Are you final on that matter?”
Kwesi’s expression was one of pure, proud dignity. “Definitely.”
Garcia House, Apt. 333, Lev. 33

“In my defense, I was taken by surprise,” a brooding Kwesi said, as he hung from an enormous pair paws holding him under his arms. He was panting.
“Where do I put him?” Samson asked, while entering the apartment, followed by Elliot and Tegan.
Like Tegan, Alandra Garcia was a Maine Coon, only of a smaller build and shorter fur. And she was definitely too stunned for words. It took her a couple of minutes to realize what was going on. “You…bring him out!” she blurted.
Samson put Kwesi on the couch. The basenji said, “Yeah, glad to see you too, Ali.”
The female cat addressed her friends. Her eyes looked as if they were about to shoot death rays. “Tegan! Elliot! How could you do this to me?! You know how much I am suffering for what Kwesi did to me! I was just recovering from the loss of my Antonio and…and…you traitorous—“ she stopped when Samson grabbed her much like he had done with Kwesi. “Let me go, you dumb brute! You don’t dare, you’re worse than those two turncoat—“ but much as she tried to struggle and scratch, it was like fighting against a vigorous oak.
“Resistance is futile, sister,” the minuscule Saga said, peeking from under Samson’s head fur. “Kwesi went through one of his fits, and didn’t even bruise big boy here. That’s why he’s panting.”
The Saint Bernard put Alandra down and next to Kwesi. “Please don’t be mad at me. But you need to speak with him.” He added a tentative wag.
Alandra and Kwesi turned, looking at each other for a moment, as if wanting to speak…then turned sharply in the opposite direction, crossing their arms and huffing out their indignation.
Tegan facepawlmed. “Ali, please, don’t make this harder than it is already.”
The smaller Maine coon growled. “Why are you talking as if it was my fault, all of a sudden?! It wasn’t my idea to break my own heart! It wasn’t my idea to act like some chauvinist, se-se-that! I love him, and what does he say? ‘Sorry, babe, you’ll be always my dearest number two’!”
“I told you, it’s not like that!” Kwesi snapped. “I love you but I also need to carry on the tradition! Tou es bêta femelle!”
“Ha! ¡Y tú eres un idiota perfecto de un perro!”
At that moment, a whistle loud enough to make even the reinforced wall glasses of the windows tremble almost shattered their eardrums!
“Don’t make me do that again,” the mouse said, still keeping her fingers to her mouth. “I stopped more than one cab with this, mind you.”
“Thank you, dear. I think,” Elliot said, still massaging his offended ears. Then, to his friends. “Guys, you know what’s worse than seeing you acting like that? Know that it all happened already, recently, to me and Tegan.”
Tegan sat down next to Alandra. She took her friend’s paws in hers. “Look, I gave you room to vent because you needed it. I told you many times now and I’ll tell you again: I understand what you feel. Kwesi is just like Elliot when he told me he couldn’t be a cat’s boyfriend because of ‘social conventions’. And it took me being kidnapped, again, for him to accept his true feelings for me. What do you want to do? Get yourself in trouble to win his heart?”
“But…” Alandra started, finding herself at a loss for words. She lowered her gaze.
Elliot slapped the Basenji’s shoulder. “You love her, dog: instead of acting all pride and holy, why don’t you just explain yourself?”
“But I did!”
Elliot shook his head. “No, you didn’t. And it’s not your fault, not entirely at least: Ali was out for your blood and I know how it is easy to slip in a strategic retreat. It’s easier when females act like demons, won’t you agree?” he nudged his friend.
“HEY!” both females said. But after that, Alandra sighed, realizing the one true good thing they had just shouted at each other.
He loved her.
And she loved him. “So…what was your idea of a relationship? I promise I will listen, okay?”
Kwesi fiddled with his fingers. “You know… I, I told you I just can’t abandon the family ways. The reason for which I had started this relationship was because I had no future.” He facepawlmed, hard. She was positively emitting sparks now. “I mean, I had a whole new life to rebuild, after seeing my dreams of being a spice trader crumble. I—I didn’t want to be alone anymore. And you,” this time he actually blushed. “You were…the right one, I don’t know how to say it. You were like a beacon, you illuminated my path, and you even gave me new hope when you brought me to the spice shop, where I could have a job in what I love most.”
Kwesi hung down his head. “But then things went, well, too well and too fast. Before I knew it, I had the chance to live my dream, and I even had my papa’s blessing! Alandra, my flower, please! This is something stronger than any other bond, I have a duty to attend!”
Alandra sighed. She held his paws in hers. “Kwesi, please, I know that. You were very clear about this matter. But you never told me – okay, I never gave you the chance to tell me – where will I be in this life of yours. I don’t want to be a second wife, a concubine, or…or some open option. I need stability in my life! Can you understand how much I need you?” She was on the verge of tears now. She couldn’t tell if it was for sadness or for renewed rage, but she didn’t care now. She didn’t care if she looked like a silly, fragile stereotype of a female! She couldn’t suffer another disappointment, again! “Are you telling me that I was just some temp for your heart because you felt less of a male for living homeless? That you never really loved me because I was just a-a cork to fill your empty life? That I won’t be nothing but—“
“The mother for our cubs,” Kwesi said, calmly, solemnly, looking at her square in the eyes.
It was much like stopping time. Alandra stood there, not daring to breathe, not daring to let her neurons connect. She feared this could be another self-induced hallucination.
Tegan and Elliot were slack-jawed. Flies were having a disco party inside their mouths.
“And they say boys can’t be sweet,” Saga said with a dreamy sigh. Samson looked puzzled –he had thought Kwesi would ask her out or something. Dog, talk about knowing one’s goals!
Kwesi broke the spell by saying, “I… Alandra, would you like to raise our cub in my family’s traditions so that I can teach him to be a spice trader?” He wasn’t used to expressing his feelings as he would’ve liked. He had spent too much time hiding his hear to the others. He didn’t know how to tell her that this was the most important thing a male of his family could ask. He was going to suffer the wrath of his father for this, he was supposed to take a canine mate and sire their litter.
But he loved Alandra. He needed to take a position and this was the best compromise he could think of.
That, or he’d go for his road if she didn’t agree about the education of the cub. Oh, no, no way he’d compromise on that! Absolutely—
“Yes,” she said.
Kwesi’s heart stopped. It positively stopped for three seconds before he had to will himself back to life. “You said..?”
Alandra grabbed him by his shoulders. “I said yes. I don’t care how, we will adopt and you will educate him to be the best spice trader ever and…we will be together. Forever.” In a moment, the doubts were gone, the fears were gone, the bleakness that had made her heart and soul shrivel had been replaced by the most luminous joy, and by the exaltation this challenge would bring. “…But why didn’t you ask me in the first place?” she found herself asking.
Kwesi blushed again. “Because you Americans don’t like the idea of setting a young one’s path without his consent. You rebel to everyth—Yowlp!” he said when he was slapped, hard.
“Don’t make me forget you’re my friend, mister,” Elliot said. “Shame on you for thinking such thoughts!”
Alandra chuckled. “You know, love: it’s so great that there’s a dog who wants really the best for his son. And for what I’m concerned, I’ll make sure he will grow up as a Casanova cat-lover. You better deal with it.”
Kwesi looked at her, felt her happiness radiate, and he mentally cursed at himself for almost letting go of her. Honestly, how could he have thought he could live without this wonderful cat? Sorry, papa. “If that will make you happy, then I am happy.”
And then they kissed, and the world around them disappeared…

Author:  valerio [ Mon Sep 17, 2012 10:02 am ]
Post subject:  Re: HOUSEPETS! THE SERIES Official Thread

Aaaand i'm back!
Thank you for your support guys, I really needed it. :D :D :D :D

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