milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

coral sandhu

(no subject)

Dad had told them not to come into the bar until the sickness went away. But Coral is still concerned about her dog-sitting duties, so she has come in this evening to check on Buster, although her brother has now told her that the dog bites and she's not to get close.

She feeds the dog and tells him he's a good doggy. Then she takes her homework bag to a quiet corner and starts doing her maths. She bites the end of her pencil and tries to remember how to do long subtraction.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

When Wilford wanders in today, he's not at all surprised when Buster runs over to jump all over him. But that doesn't make it any less annoying. Also annoying is how he doesn't exactly have the muscle to shove the dog away with quite the same amount of intent as he's used to, which just seems to make Buster think he's playing.

"No, beat it. Get lost."

Buster does nothing of the sort, of course. Wilford hasn't been around for a while, and all Buster wants to do right now is play.

"Hello Mr Warfstache." Coral says, coming over to him.

Look at that. Respect. That's practically a novelty these days.

(Wilford knows it's his own fault, but that doesn't stop him complaining.)

"You one of the kids that's supposed to be taking care of the dog?" he asks.

If Coral is observant, she might notice he's not only quite a bit younger than the last time she saw him, but about half the size as well.

"Yes sir." Coral says.

She looks him up and down.

"Fry said you were different but he found it hard to understand what had happened. He said if I saw you to tell you he was sorry if he offended you when he got muddled and cross, and he told YT to leave Buster's food alone."

Wilford finds a nearby place to sit and drops down into the seat with a clatter. He pulls out his wallet to make sure he has enough for lunch, immediately finds that he doesn't really, and looks up at Coral.

"How am I paying you?"

"Um, weekly?" Coral tries.

"Not out of pocket, I hope."

He's got about six bucks in singles in his wallet, which he doesn't exactly make an effort to hide.

"No sir, it comes at the bar." Coral says. "From your tab I think." She glances at his wallet. "In English money."

Wilford glances up at the tab board, where his name still has a zero after it. But with the amount of money he banked, it'll probably stay that way for a while.

"You are getting paid, right?" he asks.

Of course she is. But he's not supposed to know that right now.

Coral nods.

"We did last week."

Not that they would have abandoned Buster if the money ran out, but they would have had to tell Dad.

"Good."

The money's not going to run out. In fact, Wilford might find himself dipping into it from time to time, unless he wants to seriously go back to living on ramen and white rice for the next few years.

"I'm not spending a fortune on dog food, am I?"

The damn dog is eating better than he is right now. But Wilford is trying to ignore that.

Coral thinks about this for a moment.

"Well I think the doggy lives on more than a dollar ninety a day." she says. "So it's wealthier than ten percent of the world."

Wilford would laugh, if he weren't in such a sorry state right now that he's got to make six bucks stretch a week and a half. As it is, he just rolls his eyes.

Buster puts his head on Wilford's knee and sighs like he's tired of being ignored. So he gives the dog some attention and pushes him away.

"What do you want? What's wrong with you?"

"He likes you. Don't you Dumbles?" Coral says, resisting the urge to snuggle the doggy.

Buster takes care of that on his own. If Wilford won't play, he'll play with Coral. By climbing all over her until she pets him.

"I thought his name was Buster," Wilford says, wondering why Coral is suddenly so hesitant to play with the dog, when she was all over him last time.

"It is, Dumbles is a nickname you gave him." Coral says.

She's still very warm in her facial expressions towards the dog, but she's definitely being more careful. She pets him and gives him a gentle hug. Because she knows if Buster bites her, Dad will find out, and then it's game over.

"That doesn't sound like something I'd call a dog."

But kids are weird. This kid and her siblings especially.

Buster cares not for caution. He wants to play. So much so that he comes dangerously close to knocking Coral over. But not before Wilford yanks him away as a sharp reminder to calm the hell down.

Coral goes to get his baseball bat and offers it to him.

"I wanted to let him meet our dog but we were worried Dumbles might bite him. Pooh's much smaller than him but we know Dumbles gets scared."

Yes! Bat! Much fun! Buster expects Coral to hold onto it and not let him have it right away. He pulls it away with enough force to send him toppling over backwards. He knocks over a chair in his panic to right himself, but still manages to hold onto his bat the entire time.

Wilford just watches this, and wonders how an animal can possibly be so stupid.

"Wow."

"I think it's his comfort object." Coral says.

"I think he's a goddamn idiot."

Buster brings the bat back to Coral so she'll play with him.

Coral spins the bat for him.

"I don't think he can help it."

"No, probably not," Wilford agrees.

It's a shame, because if he were a decent dog, he might actually be useful. Now he's just kind of hanging around because Wilford isn't sure what to do with him.

Buster snaps at the bat a few times, but he keeps missing. He's not very good at this game, but he seems to like it at least!

"You don't have to be smart to be a good dog though." Coral says.

Wilford isn't so sure about that. He just has to look at the way Buster is rolling around like an idiot to form that opinion.

He sighs, takes his wallet out, and sighs again at how empty and pathetic it is. Surely he was doing something differently last time, because he isn't sure how he's supposed to survive on minimum wage for much longer. He'll have to dip into his tab unless he can figure out some new hustle to improve cashflow.

"Hey," he says, nudging Buster in the side with his foot. "Go find me twenty bucks."

Buster would rather play with his bat.