Grinding to a Halt

Our usual table of contents--1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, and 26--and then we're on to #27 in our continuing saga inspired by the Thursday Prompt over at Poetigress's place. The phrase this week was "half and half."

     It turned out there was just enough room between their van 

and the garage wall for me to squeeze through with only a few 

backing-and-filling moments.  I could almost smell how much 

Deena, standing behind me as I worked my way in, wanted to ask 

if she could help, and for maybe the first time in my life, I 

wouldn't've minded it.

     She didn't, though, but I was so nervous, I said, "I'm 

fine" anyway.

     The door from the garage into the house was open, yellowing 

linoleum visible through it, and I rolled into a sort of laundry 

hallway.  Too narrow to be a room, it ran along the other side 

of the garage's back wall, a washer and dryer pretty much 

filling every available inch.  

     To my right, though, the hallway led into the kitchen, 

Deena's father standing at the sink washing some dishes, the 

smell of spaghetti sauce filling the air.  "Evening, Gus," her 

father said.  His gaze dropped to El Brujo, spread out over my 

lap, and I started to tense up.  Did he like cats?  What if he 

told me she couldn't come inside?  How would I manage this whole 

thing without her??

The Tour Begins

Our table of contents at this point looks like this: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, and 25. Feel free to use it to visit the previous installments.

As for this installment, it comes from the phrase "the museum," given to the world at large by Poetigress as part of her Thursday Prompt program.

     The spell was broken by El Brujo, of course, smacking me in 

the nose with her tail.  "A wave, perhaps?  Or even--dare I say 

it?--a vocal salutation of some sort?"

     But Deena spoke up first.  "Hi, Gus!"

     It took me a couple seconds, but I did manage to flail a 

hand at her and even--dare I say it?--squeezed out the word, 

"Hi!"

     She flipped the ball over her shoulder, Heather scrambling 

after with little canine shouts of, "I got it!  I got it!"  

     "You're early," Deena said while Heather leaped onto the 

ball and commenced wrestling with it: she wasn't that much 

larger than the thing, actually.  "You...you wanna come in?  

Dad's still finishing up the dishes."

Calling

As always, here's the previous installments: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, and 24. And now, on with the 25th bit of story inspired by Poetigress's Thursday Prompts! This week, the word is "golden."

     And so it was that, with half an hour to roll a block and a 

half, I set forth into the early evening's twilight from the 

Ramsays' side yard with a cat in my lap, a squirrel in my coat, 

and a crow riding each shoulder.  How it is that no one called 

the cops--or at least animal control--I'll never know; I guess 

everyone was inside watching TV.

     Traveler sent some final words of advice after us as he 

pushed the gate closed: "Remember, August, that silence is only 

golden if it's you with your mouth closed while she answers a 

question you've asked her about herself.  Be interested and 

interesting, and all will be well!"

     I waved to him, grabbed the wheel rims, and slewed the 

chair forward.  "I still say we should've found a way to bring 

him along," I muttered.

     El Brujo's ears flicked.  "If you're hoping to dazzle Deena 

with your lightning wit, August, I fear we shall all end 

this night soaking in disappointment."

One More Step

The phrase this week in Poetigress's Thursday Prompt was "cool water." Since this is the 24th installment in this continuing adventure serial, you might care to get caught up by perusing 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, and 23.

     "How 'bout this?" I said, cutting Traveler's methodology 

discussion off as quickly as I figured was polite because, 

well, being polite to Dobermans has always been high on my 

list of things to do.  "We've only got, like, two hours here, 

so maybe we could, I don't know, focus on some specifics?"

     "Please," Jefe croaked.  "Things get any more general 

around here, I'm gonna hafta start saluting."

     Honoria smacked him with a wing.

     Traveler nodded.  "I understand completely.  The budding 

stage of any romance is as delicate as the gentlest flower.  

Tell me, then, what you have planned for this first date of 

yours."

     That made El Brujo raise her head.  "Date?"  She looked 

over at the two crows, her ears flicking.  "I don't know what 

you may have been told, Traveler, about August's situation, 

but one would scarcely categorize tonight's goings-on as a 

date."  She even held her front paws up, popping her claws and 

wiggling them to make air quotes around the word 'date,' 

something I'd never seen her do before.