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 Posted: Thu Oct 03, 2013 6:47 pm
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Posted: Thu Oct 03, 2013 6:50 pm
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Posted: Thu Oct 03, 2013 6:51 pm
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Posted: Thu Oct 03, 2013 6:54 pm
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Posted: Thu Oct 03, 2013 6:55 pm
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Posted: Thu Oct 03, 2013 6:56 pm
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Posted: Thu Oct 03, 2013 7:00 pm
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Posted: Thu Oct 03, 2013 7:02 pm
Baldwin was a good dog.
When Richard Moreau had first decided to get a dog, he had his mind set on a big dog from the very get go, despite the problems that would likely come with it. He’d need a big place to stay to where not only could the bachelor live comfortably but his dog could too. He’d need to make sure he got his daily exercise in, as large dogs meant a gratuitous amount of energy to spend, and the amount of food it’d go through would be quite substantial. But Richard wanted a big dog, and what dog would be bigger than an Irish wolfhound?
The moment he set his eyes on the litter, he knew which one he wanted. Of all the puppies that scrambled on top one another, fighting for their mother’s teat, it was the tiniest one that caught his eyes, the runt that struggled to crawl himself towards the warm body and food source. He was so tiny, so pathetic, that Richard knew that he was the one. And he had to help him.
He volunteered much time at the puppy farm, bottle feeding the poor thing, coaxing him with gentle words, but not the same he shared with a potential bed partner. No, he wanted the puppy to live, to overcome the obstacles that life threw at him, so that one day he would be ready to take come, offer him a home in exchange for some resemblance of a constant companionship, something that he was certain he would never have or could ever have. Where human companionship would fail, he was certain that this one would succeed, and day by day, the runt of the litter grew stronger, and just flat out grew. He looked so silly, with big ol’ floppy ears and paws so big on lanky legs that nothing looked like it matched, but his to-be-companion seemed unaware of his misgivings and cared only for the affection of his master. Richard could never forget that day he arrived at the puppy farm, in high hopes of bringing the little fellow home. A quick trip to the vet, get him a collar, and finally, he would have a companion, a friend he could count on.
”We’re sorry, Mr. Moreau. His heart was too weak. He passed peacefully in his sleep last night.”
Richard openly laughed at the couple when they told him this, even as he pointed to the wolfhound puppy that sat alone in the corner, head in his paws and looking quite morose- likely because he was being forced to wait for the breeders to finish their little game. ”That’s him right there. With the bushy brows and speckled rump. I’d know him from anywhere.”
He swore that was the dog he cared for. Everything about him screamed that he was the dog. Even when he did not immediately come when he called for him, he rationalized it as the puppy knew he would be parting with his family soon. Or perhaps mourning the loss of his brother? Yes, his brother, not the runt that Richard had spent so much time and effort and care nursing back to health. That wasn’t his puppy that died- they must have made a mistake.
They did not argue, though, and before too long, Richard was driving home, with a very calm but curious Irish wolfhound puppy taking turns looking out the opened window and back at him. Yes, this was his puppy. This was the one he cared for. This was his Baldwin.
And Baldwin was a good dog.
((Word Count: 605))
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Posted: Thu Oct 03, 2013 7:04 pm
It was not often that Richard Moreau heard from his family, and every day that he went without either a thought or mention of them was a day that he thoroughly enjoyed to the fullest. Even with all of the crazy things going on in his life, he’d rather deal with an entire squad of angry Senshi and their wicked magic than to put up with the thought of having to bring himself to associate with that lot. As far as he was concerned, the rest of the Moreau family could just stay in Sugarland, Texas, on this oversized ranch where they took turns throwing hundred dollar bills at the poor homeless that gathered under the overpasses. He moved to Destiny City to get AWAY from them.
So why was he getting a phone call that a ‘Ms. Victoria Moreau’ was on his way to the Sugar Shanty at this very moment? He wanted to think it was a prank. It very well COULD have been a prank, though by who, he had no idea. Krishna nor Nyasa really knew anything about his family and he swore he’d rip out a few jugulars if is college friends ever pulled this kind of prank. Yet, after confirmation from Lucca, he knew it to be the real deal, and he gave a pathetic groan as he could see the taxi pulling up, right at the front of the store, and the woman that forced the poor taxi driver out to open her door, and the stupid little hat she wore was unmistakable.
“Lord have mercy on my soul,” Richard muttered to himself, before putting forth his sweetest, most diabetic inducing smile he could muster. Ms. Moreau walked into the store, the friendly chime unable to chase away the dark cloud that followed after her like death, and her first words almost broke that smile of is. “Oh, look at such a tacky place! So colorful and bright, I swear I could go blind in here!”
’Ah, I only regret that murder would prevent my inheritance,’ Richard thought to himself, knowing that she was simply trying to get a rise out of him and not too eager to shoot down her enjoyment, even if it came at the cost of his beloved store and his even more precious ego being shot down. He stepped around the counter and took her hands in greeting, distracting himself from the driver that pulled suitcase after suitcase into his store. “All the more to catch customers’ attention with, dear mother! How are you doing, and tell me, what have I done to be honored by your extended visit?”
“Oh, don’t be that way, d**k! It’s only for a few days, at least until your boar of a father calms down.” Victoria didn’t bother denying his accusation, and Richard couldn’t help but feel that she wasn’t quite being honest with just how -long- she’d be staying. To think, he had just rid himself of one naggy, cold hearted witch, only for another one to come sauntering in her place. But… at least this one could be extremely useful in the long run. “Now, don’t mind me. Help me move my things to the back and I’ll stay out of your hair while you sell all of this teeth-rotting delicacies. I’ll even put up with your pet horse! Trust me, it will be fun.”
He waited until she scuttled towards the back of the store towards his office before allowing his shoulders to droop and a snarl escaped his lips, before twisting into a more strained grin, before grabbing the first of many suitcases and following after her. “Oh yes. Fun.”((Word Count: 617))
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Posted: Thu Oct 03, 2013 7:06 pm
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Posted: Thu Oct 03, 2013 7:07 pm
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Posted: Thu Oct 03, 2013 7:08 pm
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Posted: Thu Oct 03, 2013 7:10 pm
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Posted: Thu Oct 03, 2013 7:12 pm
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Posted: Thu Oct 03, 2013 7:13 pm
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