Time To Get a Mov(i)e On

(A slightly short chapter. Because I’m too distracted by Skyrim to write very much)

“Sagebear, it’s going to take hours for Sinbad to get home. I don’t think you looking out the window is going to make him leave work any faster.”

Shark’s words appeared to have fallen on deaf ears.

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There was no way he could deny the watchdog spirit that Sagebear possessed, after all.

Her attentiveness, in fact, was rather motivating. At least enough for Shark to get back up off the couch.

Faridah probably appreciated it too, anyway. She was getting a little tired of having a front-row seat to watching rich people getting murdered.

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Now seemed like a good time to get to the issue that Shark was trying to ignore. He knew that if Sinbad came home to a mess, he’d not be very happy.

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At least the dog-created puddle wasn’t covering the whole floor, or completely soaking the rugs. Shark actually didn’t blame Mr. Beefy and Zas when they ran and hid under the bed upstairs.

He could’ve waited until it dried, but there was no way that it would have evaporated before Sinbad came home. Not to mention that the smell of wet dog would be unmistakeable.

“Where’s the Swiffer…?”

Before long, Shark managed to find some kind of mop thing, and administered it to the dog puddle.

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“It couldn’t have been raining that long to make this much water. Or were they playing in the sprinkler again?”

It wasn’t as if the dogs couldn’t play in the sprinkler; it was just that Sinbad used it for any outside plants he couldn’t keep in the greenhouse.

Using a sprinkler seemed better than Sinbad’s rather gruesome method of fertilizer. Though he did state that he wasn’t using his own blood, just whatever he could drain out of from meat he was intending to cook anyway.

“It’s either this, or asking the girls for their used feminine products. No need to make everything all weird by doing that,” he’d said.

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Needless to say, that was the last thing Shark wanted to think about as he kept trying to clean up.

Once the water on the floor was wiped up, and the dogs were all dry and snuggled on the bed, Shark went out to do something for himself.

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As usual, the theater was playing some shitty B-movies that people only really watched for the bile fascination. But to Shark, it was better than nothing.

As he was going in, it took Shark a little while to realize he hadn’t been tormented by his voices all day.

This brought such a good feeling to him. Shark made a note of it to tell Sinbad when both of them were home later that night.


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