|My Word! Has Your Ship Come Home?
Author: Nosferatu's-Cigarette-Binge PM
Things go downhill after Wilfred puts something in Ryan's drink. Rated T for suggestive themes and queasiness.Rated: Fiction T - English - Humor/Horror - Wilfred & Ryan N. - Words: 873 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 1 - Published: 08-28-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8475550
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Disclaimer: I do not claim any rights to the characters in this story.
After a busy day of drug intake - and general rude and crude hi-jinks - Ryan, and his neighbour's dog, Wilfred, discovered that they were both famished. Luckily, their hunger pangs cried out their loudest when they were in the middle of a shopping plaza that was positively bursting at the seams with restaurants.
Within 15 minutes Ryan had a succulent pasta dish before him, and Wilfred was busily gnawing on a medium raw steak with a spiffy little side salad.
"You know Wilfred, today has been great. I can't remember the last time I had so much fun," Ryan sighed.
"It was OK," said Wilfred with his mouth full. "Hey, Is that Jenna over there?" he pointed behind Ryan, who immediately turned.
Whilst distracted, Wilfred poured a vial of mysterious powder into Ryan's beverage.
"I don't see her," Ryan said, continuing his search.
"Oh, my bad." Wilfred shoved another helping of steak into his mouth. "Say Ryan, why don't you have a sip of refreshing diet Mountain Dew?"
"What? Ryan questioned, brow furrowed, his lips curved into a slight grin.
"You look thirsty."
"Hmm... you're right. I guess I am thirsty. Thanks for reminding me Wilfred."
Ryan drained half the Mountain Dew in one gulp. "Wow! That Diet Dew sure packs a punch!" he exclaimed as if making a shattering discovery.
"You said it sister. Now, um, if you're not going to eat that..." Wilfred eyed the pasta between licks of his now empty plate.
"I'm still hungry, Wilfred. I just needed a drink."
"Right, and you loved it so much you wanted to marry it... whatever," the dog said, looking across the street, wanting to leave.
The music overhead changed from Neil Diamond's Sweet Caroline to The Kills' Satellite which made Wilfred raise an eyebrow in recognition. Without a word he moved his left shoulder up and down to the beat of the song, not breaking pace for a full forty seconds. He nodded his head toward his companion, indicating that he wished him to follow. Ryan's eyes widened as he protested, but the blessed dog wouldn't hear any of it. Looking solemnly to Wilfred, Ryan sighed and raised his left shoulder up and down as directed. And so they continued, without any expressions, in perfect sync for what seemed like forever.
Wilfred was able to control Ryan like a puppet on a string with the mind controlling properties of the powder he'd slipped into his Mountain Dew. It wasn't any time before he had doing exotic dances on table tops.
The patrons of the café glanced on and off towards Ryan's table, and had been doing so since he'd taken a seat. It was one thing to see a wild-eyed young man in a deep conversation with his canine, but to witness him making such a hideous exhibit of himself was an entirely different kettle of fish.
After being kicked out of the restaurant, Wilfred and Ryan decided to call it a night and head home.
"Wilfred, I feel so strange," Ryan said, making his way to the front door of his house. "I - I can't even remember how I got here... What happened tonight?"
"You can't recall? Huh. I think you'd best go in and lay down."
"Yeah. I guess so. But what about Jenna? She's supposed to stop by later to pick you up."
"Don't worry. I can make it home by myself."
"Are you sure?"
"Uh, yeah. I'm right next door. It's like ten or twenty steps at least. I'll stay with you for a few minutes though."
"Ok," Ryan said before he suddenly collapsed.
Wilfred rubbed his paws together and laughed evilly as he drug Ryan in by his feet.
48 minutes later
Wilfred hovered over Ryan, who was unconscious on the kitchen floor wearing an open lingerie gown and knickers with his hands cuffed behind his back. "Wh-Where am I? Oh My God! What are you doing Wilfred?!"
"Shut up," he snapped as he spread whipped cream on Ryan with a plastic soon.
Ryan tried to put up a fight but found that he was paralyzed. "Did you drug me?"
The dog said nothing but continued to hum Shining Star (making my love) by David Bowie.
"Why?! What do you have planned?"
"Oh baby, what I had planned is done and over with. We just be finishin' up..." he laughed, rolling over to pick a few cherries from a jar and place them on Ryan's chest, but stopped and turned, as though he had heard something. He raised, looked out the window then scampered back. Hurriedly uncuffing Ryan, he closed the same cuffs around his own doggy wrists before purposely falling face first into Ryan's chest. Wilfred grabbed hold of Ryan and rolled him over on top of him to make it appear as though Ryan had done something unspeakable to the pooch.
Ryan, in his drug addled state, looked woozily to the ceiling then to Jenna as she entered the room and screamed.