Anyway, this time I'm forcing myself to hold off on the polishing phase until I actually finish the blasted draft. But I know my "style" probably needs tons of work, and that there's a bunch of flaws I'm not seeing. So I'm posting this fragment in hopes of getting some helpful criticism. Frankly, I'm too afraid to show this to anyone (reliable) that I know, and that's where the anonymity of the internet comes in. So please, pretty please, with sugar and world domination on top, could you read and review?
***
“Oh, having a good time are we?”
King didn't answer Pete's probably rhetorical question. In fact, he refused to give any sign that he had even heard the bird-freak. Instead he focused on the increasingly difficult task of guiding his virtual avatar across a barren wasteland—one infested with tons of ridiculously oversized monsters. He jammed one of the thumb pads of his controller to the side, but that wasn't fast enough to keep his character from being squashed underfoot. For the twentieth time in six minutes, and by the same nasty creature to boot.
King's mood was not improved when he felt Pete sit down beside him. The couch was easily big enough for the two of them, what with King being one of the smaller breeds of dogs. The fact that Pete was faithfully keeping to his human form helped, too. But that didn't mean King liked being anywhere near his self-appointed guardian. Ignoring Pete wasn't enough to rile the “man” up, but King half hoped he would grow bored of his unrequited taunting and go pick on somebody else. Surely the griffin-in-disguise couldn't be satisfied with ruining only one person's life? Or did he actually think he was helping King? Either way, King couldn't help but fold his ears back at Pete's approach.
“So, what are we playing today on...what was this thing called again?”
“Xbox 360,” King answered tonelessly. As if you don't actually know, he snarled mentally. At least be decent enough to drop the Ignorant Act. King had been especially cross with Pete ever since his little Christmas morning pep talk, if that was what it could be called. King was pretty sure by now that any supposed concern the creature had for him was totally fake; more to lull him into a precarious sense of semi-endearment or thankfulness than anything else. Pretending that King knew something he didn't was just throwing him a bone.
King glanced from the television to the game console. Case in point. It seemed just a little too nice that Pete had gotten him the thing for Christmas. He supposed that, given the model's high failure rate (and the fact that this particular unit had "mysteriously" not come with a warranty), Pete had seen some opportunities for ironic cruelty. Stupid sadistic bird. Plus, King had really wanted a PS3 instead.
If Pete had some kind of mind reading powers King didn't know about, he did a good job of hiding it. “And what is this particular game?” he asked pleasantly
“One you would probably suck at.” However futile it was, King did get some small satisfaction out of verbally combating Pete. Little practical good came of it, but it was something none the less.
“Oh, I don't know about that. But more to the point, you've spent almost all day cooped up inside. I think it's time you went out and played with your friends.”
King stubbornly kept his eyes on the screen. “It's cold and overcast, plus a ton of rain's supposed to be coming in sometime today. No one is going to be outside. There won't be anything to do. I'll be bored out of my skull.”
“Yet you still need the exercise,” Pete rejoined without a hint of annoyance at King's obstinacy. “I'm sure you will find at least one of your little pals.”
“I don't have any 'pals,' okay? I have acquaintances.”
Pete sighed melodramatically. “Oh, yes, I forgot. Somehow, in the month we've been here, you've only managed to make one genuine friend.” He moved closer to an increasingly uncomfortable King. “You know, it would be in your best interests if you were a tad more social. Your little ordeal would be far more enjoyable.”
When Pete stretched out his arm and tried to scratch King behind the ears, the dog promptly scooted out of reach. This only served to amuse rather than annoy the creature. “All the same, you're going out there. Whether by choice or force is up to you.” Apparently feeling the need to illustrate his point, Pete snapped his fingers, and King suddenly found himself standing at the front door, black scarf in paw.
King didn't like any of the suggestions Pete threw his way, and he certainly didn't enjoy how the bird pushed him around. But what he truly hated, at least at the moment, was the idea of spending another second with him. That desire outweighed all others.
He gritted his teeth, but still managed a curt, “Fine, whatever.”
King threw the scarf around his neck and turned to the door. He had only just put his paw on the brass knob when Pete called from the couch, “Make sure to be back by six. I wanted you to try a new brand of dog food I found in the grocery bargain bin today. It's generic, and a little out of date, but I'm sure it couldn't be that bad. No skipping out on supper tonight, now.”
King suppressed a growl as he turned the knob. He'd be out of here soon enough, and there was no point in arguing. Even so, Pete wasn't quite finished.
“And one more thing,” the bird added, index finger raised as if he had just remembered something. “The storm is supposed to come in sometime before evening. Do be back before that; I don't very much care for the scent of wet dog, so if you don't want to spend the night in the garage....” He trailed off.
King thought he saw a slight smirk on Pete's face, though his mustache obscured it. King sent him a glare and quickly made his way outside. He really, really hated that bird.
* * *
While King had been introduced to nearly every dog in the neighborhood, Fox was still the one he knew—and liked—the best. As such, he was also the one King spent most of his time around. Frankly, King was surprised just how well they had hit it off, considering their past history. Well, maybe it wasn't so odd if one didn't think about that. Who knew how Fox would react if he knew King was actually, uh, whoever he had been before meeting Pete.
King kicked aside a pebble as he tread down the sidewalk. Blast it, why couldn't he remember his own name? Yes, that was something else he could blame Pete for, but that didn't change the fact that, somehow, his actual birth name had been totally blocked from his memory. It was probably in there somewhere, buried away; King had once spent an entire day trying to write it down, though the farthest he'd gotten was the word “joking.”
His eyes narrowed. How was any of this fair? If there was a God, why did He let Pete just waltz right into his life and start rearranging everything on a whim? Was this supposed to be justice? Because of what he had done to Fox? That was what prison had been for! Yes, he appreciate some aspects of his new life, but what gave Pete the right to do anything to him? The monster had violated his rightful physical form, amalgamated his basic identity, and stripped him of any shred of dignity he could have otherwise retained. Wasn't toying with people for your own sick amusement a sin as well? Where was the justice in that?!
King sighed as he continued on his way. Technically he had given Pete permission to do...something or other, back when the two had first met. But Pete hadn't gone with the plan that King had agreed to, so didn't that void any possible “contract” they could have? Besides, at the time, King had thought Pete to be part a dream, or maybe a hallucination. Now he was pretty certain that wasn't the case.
And that just makes this all the more crazy! King was beginning to grow angry, a feeling that compounded with each new thought. Even if that stupid bird hadn't tricked me into this, he would've just gone ahead and done it anyway. He doesn't care! He never did! King was almost fuming by now. This was never about reforming me, was it? I swear, if I ever find out who let that, that thing out into the world, I'll—
“Hey, King! You okay?”
King jerked his head up. Apparently, he had been too deep in thought to notice that he'd arrived at his destination. Fox was up on a ladder in front of the garage door. Part of a string of Christmas lights hung limply from the edge of the gutter down to the driveway; the rest of the candescent chain was still in its place, linked with a few others so as to fully encircle the house. Or at least King figured as much. Only the front yard and sides of the house were visible from the street, and he had never been in the back yard; he was still too uneasy around Fox's owner for that.
“Uh, ye-yeah,” King returned. “I'm fine. Why'd you ask?”
Fox shrugged, but didn't lose the look of concern. “You looked pretty mad about something, that's all. Is it something you want to talk about?”
King waved the question away. “Nah, it's no big deal. Pete and I just got into an argument this morning.” He quickly changed the subject. “So why are you taking down the lights? Isn't that something for your Dad to do?”
“Yeah, well, it was at one point.” Fox turned back to his task of unclipping the string, but continued talking. “A couple of years ago Dad broke his leg when he tried chasing down a suspect. I ended up having to do a lot of the chores for a while, so I just volunteered to take care of this too. Dad never could remember to do it anyway, so I sort of turned it into a tradition.” Fox chuckled a little. “If I did leave it to dad, these things would be up till July!”
King smiled. That was another thing he liked about Fox. He thought of others and often tried to go the extra mile. King kind of wished he could be more like that, at least someday. On that matter, he wasn't too pleased when he remembered Pete's advice on “the journey of a thousand miles,” but he couldn't argue its truth. Better to start in that direction now rather than never.
“Want some help?” he asked in his most helper-ish voice.
“Seriously?” Fox suddenly looked extremely relieved. “Yeah, thank you, that would be great. It's a real pain taking all this down by myself. But it should be quick work between the two of us.”
Then he glanced up at the sky, and his smile collapsed into a frown. “We need to hurry, though.”
King followed the other dog's gaze. The gray canopy had indeed gotten darker on the short trip over there. Off in the distance, even darker banks of cloud could be seen coming towards them. King wasn't too good at estimating time according to distance and speed, but he doubted they had more than two hours before the downpour hit.
Fox was partly right. Their progress wasn't as great as King would have liked, but they neared the finishing point soon enough. After half an hour there was only one small section to go. King was on top of the ladder with Fox holding it steady down below. Unfortunately, this was one of those times that King's lack of height reared its inconvenient head.
“Come on, come on,” King growled as he reached up toward the string. It was just out of reach, so long as he stayed on the last safe rung.
“Let's just switch places, okay King?” Fox offered.
“No, hold on, I can do this,” King said stubbornly. He moved to rise up just one more step before pausing abruptly. That's weird....
“Hey, Fox? I think your wire's defective.”
“Huh?”
“The insulation is missing.” King pointed to a significant length of bare copper. “Was it like this when you put it up?”
Fox shook his head as he moved to get a better look. “No. Dad's the one who actually puts the lights up every year, but he'd never use something with an exposed wire, and I don't think he'd miss anything that big.”
King glanced from Fox back to the wire. “So what do you think did this? Squirrels, maybe?”
The gray dog shrugged. “I dunno, I kind of think—hey! What are you doing?!”
King stepped to the top of the ladder and stretched up on his tiptoes. His ability to balance up here left much to be desired, but at least he could grasp the lights now. “Relax, I'll be fine.”
“No!” Fox objected. “Just trade places with me. Better safe than sorry.”
“I'm telling you, I'm fine,” King argued, trying hard to hide the wobble in his legs. He could do this. Here was at least one thing in his life he still had control over. It didn't matter if he was artificially short. It didn't matter if his old body had been stolen away. He didn't care if he was being petty or childish about this. He wasn't going to let any of that stop him, flower power!
Fox tried a different angle. “Look, it's going to rain any minute now.” True to his words, large swaths of the sky had turned nearly black. The daylight had diminished quite a bit since the pair's task began, and it was only because of the size of the injury that King had spotted the damaged wire in the first place.
Fox continued, “Let's just leave this for later, okay? I can take care of this tomorrow myself, two minutes flat. Meanwhile,” he added, smiling, “Dad rented the new Star Trek, and he lets me work the popcorn maker. So, if it's okay with your person, do you think you could....”
“...Sleep over?” King supplied hopefully. He still wasn't too keen on going back home, even for the night. Besides, he really wanted to see that movie. Being in jail had kind of foiled him during the theatrical release.
Fox shrugged happily. “Sure, why not? I didn't have any plans anyway.”
That pretty much settled it for King. He took a step down from his perch.
Still....
He cast a glance up at that last section of lights. Two minutes, right? He could save Fox the trouble if he just did it himself. Another glance, this time down at his expectant friend, and he reached a determined paw back up. What was the worst two measly minutes could do?
Then it started to rain. Hard. Almost before King could comprehend the irony, his short fur coat was thoroughly drenched. Which, on a warm summer day, wouldn't have been a bad thing, had King been a dog long enough to have learned to appreciate (or at least grown accustomed to) this sort of thing. But that was most certainly not the case now. King could barely stand the way his fur was matting to his skin. Even worse, the water was acting as an insulator in reverse; he shivered violently as the heat rapidly drained from his skin. Fox, it seemed, shared his distress at their current situation.
“Gaaah! That's cold!,” Fox half shrieked, trying his best to stay under the eves of the house while still holding the ladder steady. “King, please come down,” he begged.
***
Aaaaaand, that's it. That's as far as I got while still considering it decent. Any comments will be enormously appreciated (though the more in-depth, the better).
And I doubt they think it isn't worth commenting on. For my part I don't often read things like this anyway so it's not anything personal (especially since Fox and King are my favorite characters). I literally only just read it now.
I want to see what happens next!
