[closed] they're good dogs eddie

[micycle]

Who: Mike micycle and Eddie satanicpanics
What: The Gang Gets Stoned with a Dog
When: Late December
Where: Hideous boy dwelling

Content Warnings: recreational drug use

So I picked the pizza back up, and I was like- [A pause. A breath in - hold, one, two - and a breath out, blowing a controlled puff in the fire's direction. He leans over, offering the joint back out.] I was like, "Hey, I need to run home," and she was like, "Dude you're the Assistant Manager, you can do whatever you want." So I hauled ass back home, and I took the pizza, and I was, like, fully expecting something to have eaten Steve again.

[The dog wriggles in his lap, letting out a brief yap. Mike wonders for a moment if he recognizes the name, or if maybe he just wants more deer jerky from off the table.]

But- [Okay, where was he?] But, so I got home and this dude was just, like, there.

[A bit of an anticlimactic ending to a story that started with Eddie asking where the dog came from, and first proceeded into an explanation of Mike's old pizza job and the mechanics of text messaging. All necessary background information, of course. He was at his pizza job, and Will texted him freaking out.

What part of that isn't a perfectly satisfying answer about where he got Frodo?]

Comments

[satanicpanics]

[ Eddie listen and blinks ,dead-eyed, not really comprehending the trajectory of this story. He’s very high, and the fact that this tiny dog looks like a tribble is incredibly distracting. But he did receive the best gift from the holiday hog and he figured he may as well let Mike in on it. It may have been a mistake. He hasn’t decided yet. ]

You’ve really gotta work on your storytelling, Wheeler.

[ He snatches the joint back, eyebrows knitting together as he zones in on a single portion of that very confusing story. ]

And what do you mean again? How many times has Harrington been eaten?

[micycle]

[Mike fumbles for a moment, running Eddie’s scathing critique back through his head. He’s not quite sure where his story was lacking, though he at least has the self-awareness to understand it probably has something to do with the weed. A couple years of experience don’t make up for shit tolerance.]

Only once! [Oh, well, what a relief.] And it was just Billy, who didn’t even mean to.

[As much as the guy sucks, it’s not like he asked to be turned into a jock-eating sewer monster.]

[satanicpanics]

[ He shakes his head, holding up two fingers and wiggling them like bunny ears for effect—even though he doesn’t even name a second time: ]

Once and a half. Bats. I told you about the bats, right?

[ He hasn’t exactly managed to bond with this Mike Wheeler to a large extent, but he definitely told him about the bats. There’s kind of no real way around the bats, but he’s a little slow right now. That’s why he likes weed—it slows his anxiety to a crawl, even if t unfortunately slows everything else as well. Probably has at least something to do with why he repeated his senior year twice. ]

Wait, wait, wait.

[ He’s struggling here, okay, but he’s doing his best. ]

Not, like, Max’s dead brother, right?

[micycle]

[Yeah, bro, you told him about the bats. Not that he's doing any better a job of remembering that right now. By the time the first question catches up with him, Mike is already blinking in gentle surprise at the second one. Frodo seems to be following the same pattern of thought, right up until he twists on the floor to start licking his junk.]

Do we know anyone else named Billy?

[He shoves his palm out. C'mon man, puff puff pass. Have some decorum.]

And he wasn't, like, possessed or anything, back then. Just gross. [Mike pulls a face, wrinkling his nose as if he can still smell the guy.] Dude couldn't fucking aim for the toilet. And he made me chug whiskey, one time.