Tuesday howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.
A bit of promo first. On the 2nd, I'll be participating in the February FIRST KISS flash scenes featured at KMN BOOKS ~ or Karen Nutt's blog ~kmnbooks.blogspot.com~. It's a month long 'kissing' event!
Okay... looks like Dugger's story continues from last week. He's on a mission for Dante, and watching out for Ewan. 'Cause, after all, a threat is a threat, no matter the low-level players. Fate can always throw in the 'monkey or ape' wrench.
This week, Dugger has some fun and dingo games with the amateur monster hunters.
Yeah, Dugger thought, dog-monkey mutant.
The motley crew belonging to the 'let's exterminate all werewolves' club -- a couple with cigs still in their hands -- charged toward Dugger from across the parking lot. Crickey!
Contacting Hoover would have to be put on the backburner. Behind him Mr. Blonde Sluggo made grunting moans of pain. "Kill him!" he squealed in an unmanly shout. "Or get the fucker dog-monkey mutant for Mr. C."
'Yeah,' Dugger thought, 'dog-monkey mutant. Have to remember that one for me bar mates.' Spinning around on top of the auto's slick roof, he balanced, then sprang.
Dugger sent the full force of his dingo body between the bloke's Hulk like shoulder blades. A bloody bull's eye.
"Argh-shit!" Slugger choked out as he toppled forward and crashed face first onto the cold hard asphalt. Dugger rode him all the way down.
'Yippie-kai-yay,' as they say in these parts. Dugger grinned from dingo ear to dingo ear.
Suddenly sensing the presence of Moon-Moon's camera surveillance -- set up to catch St. Nick at work -- Dugger figured he'd give a right good show for the local Taltube afficionados. Yeah, the 'hunt a werewolf' posse wasn't slashing at him quite yet.
Given their running footsteps, the yells of concern, the drongos were dodging between autos, and still a few minutes away. Righto, piss for hire! Those ales he'd shared with Dante were about to be served up again.
Half-unconscious, Sluggo-brain writhed like a hooked fish out of water. Dugger hopped off his back. Raising his back leg high, he let the yellow river flow. Flow fast, given his nose told him the 'pizza out the pores' pack was about to make a right serious grab for his tail.
'Marinatin' you in the finest ale at the Pleasure Club.' Dugger smirked, then dashed for the nearest set of legs.
'Dingo sport for piss and grins. Keep the cameras rolling, mate.' As if he hunted a hare, Dugger snatched hold of the raggedy bottom of the ape's jeans. Barely breaking stride, he jerked, then let momentum take its course. Crash-boom-bang, the bugger slammed against the side of the van.
Sighting the flash of a silver blade, and another pair of jogging legs, Dugger shot beneath a monster, chromed-out pickup. Scooting fast, he clamped his jaws on the grimy, fake rubber of the ape's tennie, and gave a sharp tug.
A scream followed before the thwack-thump-bang of a human body against unforgiving metal. "Fuck! Over here," his hapless victim shouted.
"What the hell are you kids doing?" a guttural, parental voice demanded. A wolf shifter voice. Deciding it was Hoover, the super-nose bloke, Dugger froze, listening.
"Someone better start explaining or I'm calling the police," Hoover boomed. "I guarantee you Officer Friendly won't be too friendly."
"There's a rabid dog attacking us," one of the blighters called out.
"Yeah, yeah rabid... he's foaming at the mouth, and all. We were trying to save..."
"Stuff it," Hoover growled. "Where is this rabid dog?"
Moments ticked by as if an Agatha Christie murder scene unfolded. "I got the cell phone," Hoover threatened, "and I'm about to punch in 9-1-1."
"Over here," the hapless victim meekly spoke up. "Think he's hiding under the truck."
Figuring his fun and dingo games were over, Dugger peeked out to make certain a knife blade wasn't waiting for his tan, furry hide. Seeing a clear field and not scenting any immediate danger, he popped out from beneath the pickup.
Dugger gave himself a proper shake, then trotted toward Hoover. He added an 'I got you blokes' spring to his step.
"Watch out!" one of the wet-behind-the-ears werewolf hunters shouted. "Looks like he's gonna attack you."
Tame as a right castrated poodle, Dugger approached and sat. He gave Hoover a big cheeky grin.
After a wink, Hoover scowled formidably at the 'we're gonna save the world from monsters' gang. "I sure don't see any foam. He ain't attacking me." Hoover paused for dramatic affect, one brow reaching for the night sky. Beneath the harsh neon lights, his large mug looked like a cranky Tazzie Devil in human form.
"What did you slime buckets do to this dog? Tell you what. You got five minutes to clean up your act, and get out of my sight. Any more problems, and I'll have the cherry tops rolling in here."
"Why don't you try patting his head, see if your hand is still attached," the slurred voice of Hulk-Sluggo interrupted.
"Need an ambulance, man?" one of the gang asked.
"Save you the trouble. I'll call an ambulance if it'll get you troublemakers outta here," Hoover snarled. "Come here, doggie," he gently called, then bent toward Dugger.
Sweet as American apple pie, and all that, Dugger padded close to Hoover. When the big wolf patted his head, Dugger smiled like he'd found his last best buddy.
"You'll be sorry," Mary Jane-smoker began.
"Good onya," Hoover whispered before straightening. "No, it's you who's gonna be sorrier than a skunk-sprayed idjit. When the local humane society gets a hold of this story... and they will. We got cameras for the protection of our patrons...got the message?"
"We got the message. Let's get outta here," Hulk-Sluggo rallied his troops.
"Trouble in River City?" Hoover asked, once their steps faded away.
Have a Magickal Shapeshifting New Year...
Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance