A Flowery Conversation


As usual, Sinbad returned from work late, all sore and cranky. He made sure not to let his boss and coworkers see that, though.

This time, there was an especially unusual reason for the crankiness; Apparently, one of the entitled jerks faked a case of food poisoning.

He stopped when Sinbad reminded him (a bit violently, admittedly) that he wasn’t going to get any free meals or compensation.

“All we’re gonna offer you is a trip to the hospital and hope you don’t die a slow painful death,” was what he had said.

The customer was all too happy to pony up the cost of the food and a bit of extra tip after that.

Sinbad still didn’t like what he’d tried to pull though. But at least the work day was over now.

“Hopefully Shark remembered I left him a big can of Spaghettios on the counter.” Before he’d left earlier, Sinbad specifically told Shark these instructions: ‘Open the can, dump the insides in a dish, heat in microwave, thank Donald Goerke and Percy Spencer, enjoy.’

With a bit of a thud, Sinbad sat down on the frosty ground now. Winter, it seemed, was not going down without a fight.


Sinbad then caught sight of something he didn’t usually see on their yard. Turning himself around, he stared at it intently.


“Kinda blooming at the wrong time of year, don’t you think?” He asked the Indian Blanket flowers that managed to have sprouted through the frozen dirt. “But I guess that should be admired.

“Too bad you ain’t growing out of a crack in the concrete,” he went on. “Otherwise I could’ve quoted George Carlin. Hard to believe he’s been dead for nearly a decade now.”

Sinbad was feeling like a complete idiot, talking to some flowers like they were a person. Somehow, though, he didn’t actually care all that much.


“If I could, I’d pick you guys and make a little gift for the hubby. Of course, he probably wouldn’t like that, now that I think about it. He’d want the three of you to grow and make everything all pretty. I don’t really give a shit about flowers in general, but hey.”

He paused for a little bit. “If you were the dogs, by now that little grey rat would be trying to eat my pants. And maybe Zas and Beefy would sniff my feet.

“Sagebear, I got no idea what she’d do. That dog’s just full of surprises; somehow she’s learned to open the fridge door by herself.”

Here, he began to chuckle at the sight he remembered seeing. “She was just sitting there, looking up at one of the shelves I put the leftovers on. Somehow she got Faridah in there.

“Because next thing I know, the little rat shows up dragging a Tupperware with grilled chicken in it. Man, were those dogs happy when she dropped that container on the floor.”

Now realizing that he needed to get inside, before he froze, Sinbad stood up and dusted himself off. Taking great care not to trample the flowers he’d been talking to, he went into the house.

As expected, the dogs were waiting for him. screenshot-18-3

“Yeah, I know,” he said to them. “You better not have gotten in the fridge again, dog. Your daddies eat that stuff, too, so save a few containers for us.”

He then pulled off his hoodie, and quietly walked to his and Shark’s bedroom. Like many other nights before, Shark was sound asleep.


It was rather comforting to hear him snoring quietly. Sinbad made sure to be as silent as possible, going over to his side of the bed.

When he sat down, though, Shark was apparently woken up by the slight movement. He was making sounds of what were probably sleepy confusion.


“It’s just me, dude,” Sinbad whispered to him. “Go back to sleep.”



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