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by Seraphina Parts 6-10 Part 6 "Hellooo, are you in there Paul?" Paul�s eye ball rolled back into his head. Sara sighed and let go of his eyelid. It drooped closed again. She grabbed hold of his upper arm and shook him roughly. "Wake up sleepy head, I want to ask you a question." He groaned something inaudible and most probably unintelligible and rolled over so his back was facing her, hoping that if she couldn�t see his face then she�d forget he was there and leave him to sleep. He had no such luck. "Fine then, I�ll ask you while you�re still half asleep ok?" "Whadeva." He answered, still half asleep on not planning to wake up fully any time soon. Little did he know how dangerous such a decision was. Sara, annoyed that Paul, after twelve hours sleep already, wouldn�t wake up for the time it took her to ask one simple question, decided to see just how alert he was before using the situation to her advantage. "Can I give your entire wardrobe to the Salvo�s and replace it with bell bottoms and pink, ruffle shirts?" He didn�t reply. She nudged him. "Paul, can I?" "Yeah." He grumbled. She sat up and smiled. This could be interesting and she was going to milk it for all it was worth. "Can I burn that horrible lounge suit you�ve got?" "Yeah." "I�ll need to buy a new one then so can I borrow your credit card today?" "Yeah." "Can I invite Tim and Richard over tonight so we can all hump like bunnies until dawn?" "Yeah." "Ok, I�ll ring them in sec. But what I really wanted to ask you is, can I get a dog." Paul groaned, rolled back over to face her, pulled her back down next to her and flung an arm around her, burying his face in her neck. "Sara, do what you damn well like, just let me get some more sleep." "Ok honey, you go back to sleep." she said in a voice she would use to talk to a small child. Five minutes later, Paul sat bolt upright in the bed. "You want Tim and Richard to come over to do what?" "Hump like bunnies until dawn." He looked down at her with a horrified look on his face. "What else did I agree to?" This time she was the one to pull him back down next to her, draping an arm over his bare chest. "Um, I�m giving your clothes to the Salvo�s and getting you a seventies wardrobe instead, I�m burning your God awful couch-" "I love that couch, I�ve had it forever." "Yes well it smells like you�ve had it forever too, but I haven�t finished yet. You�re lending me your credit card for the day so I can get a new couch and whatever else I feel like buying at the time and I�m getting a dog. But don�t worry, I�m only holding you to the last one because I�m a decent kind of gal." Paul snorted in disbelief. "Decent? You just said that my couch�my best friend for as long as I can remember�smells." He turned his head to look at her. "What do you want a dog for?" "Because I get lonely without Timmy." "Well what am I? Just a boy toy to use when your feeling horny I suppose." He said bitterly. She slapped him lightly on the chest. "Don�t be such a sook. Having you around isn�t the same as having a dog around. For one thing, dogs are cleaner and more well behaved than you." "Haha, very funny. Maybe you should become the professional comedian of the household. But seeing�s how I�m an incredibly nice guy, you can get a damn dog�only if you promise not to say a bad word about my couch again." "Really?" she said hopefully. "I know I�m going to regret this�yes really." "Wohooooo!" She cried out, jumped to her feet and began jumping up and down on the bed ecstatically. "I�m getting a dog, I�m getting a dog, I�m getting a dog." "Note to self:" Paul thought, a look of appreciation crossing his face as he watched Sara. "Thank God that Sara prefers to sleep sans pyjamas." Part 7 "Paul, I�m back. Where are you?" Sara�s voice rang throughout the house to the study where Paul was sitting at his desk doing his tax, something he�d been putting off for far too long. Only one thing good came about from doing your tax, the government gave you money. "I�m in here." He called in answer. "Where�s �here�?" She called back. "In the study." Sara appeared in the door way. The way the desk was situated, she was looking at his back, and he had yet to look up from what he was doing. "I got the dog�" she paused but on no reply from Paul, continued to talk. "I went to the RSPCA and they gave him to me for free because he was going to be destroyed tomorrow if no one wanted him." "That�s good." He still didn�t look up from his work. Sara sighed but kept talking anyway despite the fact that she�d expect a more enthusiastic response from a corpse. "He�s already had all his shots and he�s had the snip," Paul winced in sympathy but still didn�t look up. "So that means we don�t have to worry about vet bills, for now at least. Anyway he already came with a name, it�s Tiny." Paul liked the sound of all this. A free, wormless, all expense paid dog named Tiny. He didn�t regret agreeing to this whole dog thing as much as he thought he would but he still hadn�t turned around to see the animal in question. "For God�s sake Paul! Do you think you could show a little more interest and meet the friggin� dog?" She was starting to get pissed and that was never a good thing. "I�m sorry, I was just finishing my tax returns." He said as he stood and began to turn. "You�d never guess how much money- Holy fucking cow shit!" He pulled off his glasses to look closer at the beast standing in the door way next to his beloved. "That�s not a dog, that�s a fucking thoroughbred!" Sara knelt beside the massive animal and put her arm around it�s neck protectively. "Paul, you�re over reacting. He�s a Great Dane cross Irish Wolfhound with a couple others thrown in for good measure." "Well whatever the hell he is, he ain�t staying in this house. No siree Bob, he�s going back to where you got him." She looked at him pleadingly. "But Paul, if I take him back, he�ll be put down tomorrow." Paul eyed the dog with distaste. "He should have been drowned at birth. That is one ugly looking son of a bitch. They�d be putting him out of his misery if you ask me. Nothing could live happily knowing that it looked like that." Sara stood and glared at him. " Well You seem to managing OK." she spat at him. "Hey, you�re supposed to be begging me to let you keep the dog, not insulting me." he said angrily. "Is that what you want me to do? Beg? Well fine, I�ll beg." She walked over to him, dropped to her knees in front of him and clasped her hands together as if in prayer. "Paul, I beg you�I implore you, to let me keep the dog." She looked up at him pleadingly. If there was anyone else that could make a pleading face better than Paul, it was Sara. She had this way of looking at you, her eyes begging, and there was no way that you could say no to her. And right now, she was working her magic on him. He threw his hands up in the air in defeat. "Fine, keep the blasted dog, but if he touches any of my shoes, I�ll kill him myself got it?" Sara jumped to her feet and flung her arms around his neck. "Thank you. You�re the best and I promise you won�t regret it." "Why do I doubt that?" Paul asked under his breath. She dropped her arms and stood beside him and Tiny regarded them both. He�d been standing in the doorway, unsure of whether Paul was friend or foe. "Paul, he thinks you don�t like him. Call him over and pat him." "He�s right, I don�t like him." Sara glared at him and he put his hands up in defence. "I�m sorry, I�ll be nice. Come on Tiny, come here boy-ahhhhh!" The gigantic dog lunged at Paul, pinning him to the ground with two massive paws and licking his face, salivating everywhere in the process. "Ahhhh, I take it back, we�re not keeping him." he tried to yell from under the dog but his voice was smothered. Part 8 "Give me back my fucking shoe you stupid mutt!!!" Paul�s angry screams echoed through the house. Richard and Tim looked at each other, worried expressions etched in both their faces. "Um, Paul, are you Ok mate? You sound like you�re experiencing a little trouble." Tim asked tentatively. "Nothing *grunt* a pound of rat sac in a certain dog�s feed bowl won�t fix." Came his reply along with sounds of a struggle in the hallway just outside the kitchen doorway where Richard and Tim had made themselves comfortable. "And I don�t make idle threats Dog so watch out!" The other two had come around so that they could all share their ideas on some new material. Paul had told them about Sara�s newly acquired pet but they still had yet to see it. "Really Paul, it�s just a dog. Can�t you just show it who�s boss so we can get on with our work. Slap it around the head a few- Jesus Christ All bloody fucking Mighty. That�s not a Dog, that�s a friggin� Clydesdale!" Tim yelped, jumping up from his seat. Tiny had managed to drag Paul a few feet across the polished floor boards so that they were both in full view. Paul had one shoe on his foot and the other was in the shared possession of himself and Tiny and neither of them looked as if they were about to give up any time soon. "That�s *grunt* what I *grunt* said." Paul managed to say through clenched teeth. "I thought you said your dog was tiny." Richard said. "That�s it�s name you bloody *grunt* dickhead and he�s not mine, he�s Sara�s." Tim circled cautiously to the other side of the room to get a better view of Tiny. "Ugly mother fucker ain�t he?" "Try telling that *grunt* to Sara *grunt*, she won�t be convinced. She even has the bloody cheek to *grunt* let it lie on my couch...MY couch. LET GO OF THE FRIGGIN� SHOE!!!!!!!" If Tiny understood what Paul was saying, he sure wasn�t paying attention. Instead of letting go he started to pull even harder. "Tim, *grunt* do us a favour mate and grab *grunt* that box of �Lucky Dog� bones." Tim looked suspiciously at Paul but picked up the box anyway. Paul, on seeing that Tim had done what he�d asked, proceeded with further instructions. "Now, go and stand by the other doorway and shake *grunt* the box." Again, Tim gave a look that showed he didn�t quite trust Paul but walked over to the doorway leading to the lounge room. He then started to shake the box, the biscuit bones inside it making a rattling noise. Tiny�s ears pricked up at the unmistakable sound of food. "Now what?" Tim asked, getting bored with the whole situation. "Run!" Paul yelled as Tiny let go of his end of the shoe, making a B-line towards Tim who took one look at the great hulking form coming towards him, screamed and ran through the door. At the sudden absence of Tiny from the other end of the shoe, Paul had been sent flying backwards onto the floor. He was now picking himself up off the ground and making his way back to Richard who had been trying no to laugh throughout the whole incident. He couldn�t hold it back any longer as he saw Tim flash past the hall doorway, Tiny in close pursuit, Tim yelling frantically as he went. "Paul you bastard! Call your fucking dog off! Ahhhhhhh!" The sound of the back door opening and then slamming, could be heard as Tim tried to make an exit that way but to no avail... Sara had been thoughtful enough to install huge doggy doors in both the front and back entries so Tiny had no trouble following. Paul plonked himself down at the kitchen table just as Tim ran up to the window, pounded on it, looked over his shoulder, screamed and ran out of site. A few seconds later, Tiny ran past the window, having lost a little of the ground between himself and the biscuits (Tim stupidly still had them in his grasp) after having to jump the side gate that Tim had shut on him. The front door opened, slammed as Tim came thundering back into the house. The Doggy door opened and swung a few times as Tiny entered, still on the trail to finding food. Tim came back into the kitchen, ran over to Paul who was now standing at the fridge, trying to find a beer, and tried to give him the box. "No way, I�m not taking them." Paul put his hands up. "Take them, it�s your dog." "It�s not my dog it�s Sa-" "Um, guys?" Richard interrupted. "What?" they said in unison. Richard didn�t say anything, just indicated to the doorway where Tiny regarded them both and then lunged at them. "AHHHHHH!" Richard watched and listened in amusement as both Tim and Paul were chased every which way throughout the house but after a while, it got boring laughing by yourself, even if you were laughing at another�s expense so the next time the trio came racing into the kitchen, he took matters into his own hands. "TINY! HEEL!" The dog skidded to a halt and looked at Richard. A couple of seconds later, Tim and Paul did the same, seeing that they were out of danger for the moment although they didn�t relax too much should they need to make a run for it again. "SIT!" Once again, the dog did as it was told. Richard walked over to Tim, snatched the box from his hands and fed a biscuit to Tiny. "What are you giving him a reward for? He nearly just ate your two best friends!" Paul said incredulously. "And how come he did what you said?" "Paul, Paul, Paul. You have to talk to him on the same level, treat him like he�s one of us." Tim and Paul rolled their eyes. They were sick and tired of what they liked to call �Richard logic�. "Well he�s closer to being one of us then you�ll ever be." Tim said, snatching the box back from Richard and examining one of the biscuits. Paul took one too and had a sample bite. Richard glared at them, then smiled back at Tiny who was waiting patiently at his feet. "Tiny�get the biscuits." Tiny didn�t need any encouragement and barrelled straight towards Tim and Paul once more. Anyone walking past the house over the next half hour would stop and stare at it in horror as one of many blood curdling screams were emitted, before hurrying on their way to put as much distance between themselves and the house as possible. Part 9 "Smile for the camera, Paul." Paul looked up from the kitchen bench where he was preparing food for their three year anniversary barbecue. "What�s that?" he asked, disregarding her request completely and instead, frowning at the sight of Sara behind a small, hand held camera. "It�s a camcorder. I bought it yesterday to help celebrate this momentous occasion." "I don�t see how it�s going to help, but this barbecue is. This is going to be the barbecue to end all barbecues." She focused the camera on the ridiculous amount of food that Paul had insisted on having, even though there was only going to be the two of them plus Tim and Richard. "No comment," she said simply, focusing back on his face as he stuck his tongue out at her. "It is going to be great. All a man needs to make a good barbecue is a brain and plenty of good food." "Well at least you have one of the two." "Excuse me?" he asked incredulously. "Are you implying that this isn�t good food?" "No, there�s plenty of good food here." He looked at her, a clear look of confusion painted on his face. It took a while for what she was saying, to dawn on him. "So you�re saying that I have no brain?" "Paul," she sighed, "Face it. You�re a male and as a male, stupidity comes naturally. So I suggest that you learn to live with it or get a sex change." "Well seeing as I�m so stupid, being a male and all, you can cook the barbecue!" "Fine." "Fine." "Paul, you�re so childish sometimes." He opened his mouth to defend himself but before he could voice his comeback, the doorbell rang. "I�ll get it," Sara yelled, still viewing the world from behind the camcorder, as she ran like as excited child to answer the door, even though she knew it would only be either Tim or Richard. Paul stayed in the kitchen and brooded. As it turned out, it was both Tim and Richard. He heard Tim begin to say hello, only to have Richard cut in. "A camcorder! Cool!" "I know, isn�t it? Do you want to have a go?" She asked him, leading him to the kitchen table where they sat down next to each other. "Wow," Richard gasped, "Could I?" Tim took one look at them and walked over to stand by Paul who was also watching the other two, amusement showing in his face. "Sure," Sara said. "But you have to be careful. I�ll show you how to work it." "Cool, it even has a zoom on it." They looked remarkably like two children, one showing the other what they�d got for a birthday or Christmas. Tim put his arm around Paul�s shoulder. "Aren�t you so proud of our two beautiful children?" he asked in a motherly voice. Paul looked up at his friend. "Get your hands off me Ferguson." He said warningly to Tim and then turned and faced the �children�. "Ok kids, we�re moving this party outside. Sara, I believe you have a barbecue to cook, or you could of course apologise for your earlier comments and I could save you the trouble by doing it myself." "Fat chance midget boy." She turned to Richard who still had the camera in his hands. "Richard, I�d like for you to capture today on film, I appoint you head cameraman." Richard was speechless, his eyes wide with excitement at the thought of having, what was in his eyes, such an important job. His first job as head cameraman was to capture the seething look on Paul�s face. One of his pet hates was to be called short and Sara, on the day of their three years of being devoted entirely to each other, had just called him a midget without any qualms whatsoever. Tim, seeing that a heated argument was about to arise, started commenting on the wonderful food that lay before them. At the mention of his pride and joy, Paul forgot his annoyance and took the spotlight instead. "Yes, well, you know that I don�t like to brag�" He ignored the comments made by all three and went on. "But here we have what I like to call �garlic prawns � la Paul�, then over here we have �chicken satay � la Paul�, not to mention �rissoles � la Paul�." "And for dessert," Sara cut in, " We have �Pav � la Me." She held her creation up for all to see. Richard dutifully zoomed in on it. "Bullshit!" Paul said incredulously. "That�s �Pav � la Woolworths�. I should know because it cost me five lousy bucks." "Yes, but I put the cream and the strawberries on it." "That hardly constitutes as making it." Sara placed the pavlova on the bench put her hands on her hips and glared at him, her blue eyes flashing. Richard concentrated on getting ready to film an all in brawl if there should be one and Tim backed well away from ground zero. "Would you like to sit down and take a rest Paul? I�d hate to think that you were warn out from the exHAUSTING TASK OF PUTTING THE GARLIC ON THE �PRAWNS A LA PAUL�!!!" Determined to keep his cool, Paul, unlike Sara decided that he would keep his voice below 140 decibels. "I�ll have you know that it�s �GARLIC prawns � la Paul�." What followed was basically a glare off between the two, whilst Tim and Richard stood by apprehensively, unsure what would happen next. They weren�t prepared for what did happen. All of a sudden, Sara and Paul started laughing, stepped in towards each other and kissed. "Geez Paul," Richard said from behind the camera, still filming, "I�m glad you don�t solve the arguments we have like this." Part 10 "Having trouble there lighting the barbecue I see, Sara." Paul said, in a mocking tone. "You know, all you have to do is say you�re sorry and I�ll light it for you." Sara was hunched over the barbecue, attempting to ignite it but not having much luck. Abusing it didn�t seem to be helping either. "No, I�m fine. We�re fine. Barb and I just aren�t seeing eye to eye at the moment but after a bit of bonding and maybe some bribery on my part, we�ll work things out." She said and went back to cussing at the barbecue. Paul sat down on one of the spare fold up chairs next to Richard and took a sip out of his stubby. "Well remember that the offer still stands." "Paul, you�re living in a fantasy world. I�m not apologising for voicing the truth." "Fine, I take it back. Light the damn thing by yourself but hurry up about it because I�m getting hungry." He said, cracking it for about the hundredth time that day. "And turn that stupid piece of crap off Richard." "No." Richard replied simply and zoomed in on Paul�s face which, at that moment, was far from being a pretty sight. "Turn it off or film something else." Paul said in a menacing tone. "Here, film me Richard." Tim said, standing and striking a statuesque pose. "You can never have too much of a good thing and seeing as I�m the best thing within a fifty mile radius�well, just keep the camera rolling mate." Richard snorted doubtfully but focused the camera on Tim all the same. Tim was in the middle of his fifth simper- which involved looking seductively in the direction of the camera, raising one eyebrow and pouting- when a unexpected �WHOOSH� caused them all to look suddenly at the barbecue. Well, at least it had been a barbecue but now it resembled something of a forest fire. Sara stood proudly next to (or in the close proximity of it so as not to get her arm hairs singed) the inferno as it slowly began to die down to what could only be described as a bon fire. "What the fuck did you do to it?" Paul spluttered, jumping up from his seat to escape the searing heat. Tim was still standing from his little modelling fiasco, and Richard was circling the whole scene, intent on capturing the whole affect of the conflagration. "I added lighter fluid." She replied, holding a bottle up loftily. An obscure look crossed her face and she regarded the blaze thoughtfully. "Do you think it needs more?" She asked, beginning to uncap the bottle. "NO!" Came the reply, the three of them in unison as Paul made a frantic and successful grab at the bottle of lighter fluid before they all spontaneously combusted from the effect of the pure and hellish heat that was radiating from what was now beginning to resemble a barbecue once more. "You don�t like my barbecue?" she asked, pouting sulkily. "That�s not a barbecue," ventured Tim, "That�s a bloody funeral pyre. Who died?" "It�s Hell is what it is." Paul retorted, putting the extremely flammable substance, on the table with the food. "Eternal bloody damnation, right here in my backyard." He added, returning to where the others stood, surrounding Sara�s creation. "Well I guess that makes me Lucifer. So unless you want me to condemn you to an eternity of being sodomised by a demon elephant, hand me the stuff that�s got to be cooked and stop bagging my barbecue." Paul didn�t move, just regarded her coldly. "Did I mention that the demon elephant has herpes and a bad case of dermatitis in places I won�t specify?" Begrudgingly, he grabbed a plate of steaks and handed it to her. She took it and thanked him politely, giving him sweet, loving, patronising smile. "I can�t believed you�ve stayed with this guy for three years, voluntarily," Tim said, looking at her with renewed respect. "How did you do it?" A pensive look crossed her face and she cocked her head to one side. "I�ve often asked myself the same question and finally, I�ve reached a verdict. You see, as a child, I was forever taking pity on stray and injured animals. Fundamentally, I had a menagerie in the backyard until mum called the RSPCA and had them all taken away. I guess you could say that Paul here, is just one of my charity cases." Paul shot her a foreboding look but otherwise, did not react only to sit back down and scull half his beer. Sick and tired of the spontaneous arguments that kept erupting between Paul and Sara, on their anniversary of all days, Richard decided to change the subject. He thought that the camcorder was a safe topic to base a conversation on. How na�ve he was. "So, Sara. This is a pretty spiffy camera. How much did they sting you for it?" "Fifteen hundred." Her voice was accompanied by a �slap� and �sizzle� as she began throwing meat on the grill plate. "Fifteen hundred?!" Paul asked incredulously. "You spent fifteen hundred bucks on that?!" "No," she said. "But you just said..." clear confusion showed in his face. "I didn�t spend fifteen hundred dollars on it, you did. I used your credit card." A Long Time Dead chapter index DAAS fiction index |
