t w o
when shit hits the fan, count to ten
•.•.•$•.•.•

It was my day off and I was finally getting a chance to get some sketches done- finding inspiration for my, god willing, future fashion line ideas and just practicing my drawing skills.

A girl could dream.

The park was full of kids playing, people shouting around in laughter and was such a cool vibe, I got plenty of skirts, dresses drawn in the 30 minutes I was lounging in the sun.

I picked up my eraser, rubbing away at the old women face on my sketch pad, peeking at my muse sitting on the old, clad bench in front of me. I hadn't shaded in her eyes quite right- so I did it again, really looking at the sharp line of her wrinkles surrounding her eyelashes.

The women might be old, but she was smexy for a grandma. I had drawn enough portraits to know a hottie when I see one. She had a lot of wrinkles, and grey hair- but somehow I could tell she could have been on the cover of Sports Illustrated like 200 years ago.

I smiled as I watched her tuck her hair behind her ear as she stared down at her book, stroking her white cat next to her with her wrinkled hand ever so gently and gracefully. Damn if I saw a picture like this for a old people's home, I would definitely sign my grandma up if she was alive. Beats dad always sending her on cruise vacations until she died in her sleep- found by her latest boy toy the next morning.

I was too busy simping over grandma hottie so intently that I didn't register the loud bark, and also didn't realise it was getting closer.

"Punch, slow down!" A heard a deep, low voice yelling at me, but I didn't pay attention fast enough.

A gigantic fur ball hurled towards me, picking up speed and showing no sign of slowing down. I don't know if it was the massive amount of white fur- or the fact that it was so white and fluffy- I stayed frozen thinking it would bounce off me like cotten.

I was so wrong.

It hit me like a ton of bricks.

Hard.

I collapsed as the cotton ball jumped on me, licking me all over the face.

Now I'm not saying dogs scare me, but that's exactly what I was saying, and this one was huge! It was licking me all over my face with its long wet tongue as if it was giving me my own shower.

How gross.

"Get this beast off me." I struggled to let out under all the weight, and fur.

"Punch! Off boy!"

"Get off! Get it off!" I screamed more in fustration.

"Punch, come here boy!" I heard again.

What was wrong with this buffoon.

This thing clearly wasn't listening to him. After struggling I finally felt the weight get lifted of me, as I sat up in a complete daze, soothing my sore arm that had taken the impact of the large fur ball.

I hated dogs!

I got bit by a ugly Rottweiler when I was 6 on my left thigh. I still had the scars, physically and emotionally from that vermin I couldn't bare to be next to a dog ever again. I know it was irrational to be this scared and angry- but my arm was sore, my sketch was ruined and the dog was gleefully barking at me as if it hadn't just ruined my afternoon for free!

"I'm so sorry, are you-"

"No, I'm not okay you idiot!" I yelled, before looking up at the person behind all this fiasco. A man was standing in front of me, wearing a old Raggy t-shirt with dirty stone washed pants and, to my dismay, crocs.

He looked like a bum, unshaven with long hair that stopped just above his shoulders, holding back a big fluffy puffy fur ball that was now breathing heavily and barking at me.

Oh my god, what if it had rabies.

"Get that thing away from me." I yelled.

"Woah, relax. He means no harm-"

"No harm? Your infested rat attacked me!"

"He is a dog and is perfectly clean. What's your problem?" he asks, frowning.

The dog barked at me, lunging forward.

"Are you a stupid? Keep it away!" I stumble back with disgust as the dog whines as if I hurt his feelings.

I hope so, he almost killed me.

"What's with your attitude? Punch is harmless, he just wanted to play." The gruff man asked, noticing his dog retreating with upset eyes next to him.

"Play? He practically chewed at my face!"

He rolled his eyes, before staring at me so hard his light green gaze felt like lasers.

"Stop acting like a drama queen. Your exaggerating."

I barely stood up, holding my bruised arm against my chest in frustration.

Breathe Gabby, calm down.

"Your dog came chewing at my face bringing with him god knows what dirty illness you hobos carry around and you have the nerve to call me dramatic?" I seethed through me teeth, controlling my anger.

"He almost broke my arm! I could have you sued!" I add.

The man bends down to pet his dog tenderly before staring up at me with annoyance again.

"Punch just likes licking stray garbage. He means no harm. But if you think you can sue a hobo like me, good luck, you won't get a dime." He replies unbothered before pulling at his dog to walk around me.

Licking stray garbage?

...did he just call me...garbage?

I scoffed in anger.

What a rude bastard.

I whipped around and saw him smile at me before walking off, moving towards the dog park, crocs smacking against the pavement.

If I ever see him again I'll be sure to show him how stray garbage can be. I sigh, grabbing my sketch pad blowing away the grass stuck on it. Thank god that thing didn't completely ruin my sketch pad, I would have made a coat from his fur. I was planning a whole assassination of said dog when my phone rang, and I saw my mother was calling.

I didn't want to answer, but it kept ringing and I felt guilty since I practically dumped my mother today on my day off- so I begrudgingly picked up the phone.

"Gabby?" she calls out as I sigh out in distaste.

"It is she." I say packing my stuff and rubbing the painful red lump on my arm.

"And where are you? Dinner is almost ready!"

"I'm at the park in the middle of a zombie outbreak. Cut me some slack." I joked dryly.

"Hmmhmm, don't worry they only eat brains, your perfectly safe."

"Harhar- why are you even calling, you obviously don't care about my safety." I murmur.

"I know but I need to know if we can save money by making less food if your dead and not coming."

"Im not coming..." I lie.

"Fine. Less mouths to feed."

"Are you even my mother?" I ask, standing up and making my way home.

"Of course I am, you got my smart mouth, hurry up and come home, your Dad has something important to tell us."

I rolled my eyes. Lately my dad has been sinking deeper and deeper into depression. Drinking and having no life tends to do that to you. I haven't really been on the best of terms with him lately, ditching your responsibilities and making your wife and 20 year old daughter support you was frustrating to say the least, so I would be lying if I said I was excited for this dinner.

"Okay fine. I'm on my way." I hung up with her, patting the grass off my jeans and got ready to leave, just as something caught my eye.

Some creepy dude with a baseball hat was approaching my old lady muse, sneakily from behind her, as she was unaware reading her book with her cute like cat.

I watched as he reached his hand in between the space of the bench, trying to get into her bag.

That piece of trash was trying to rob my old lady muse!

"Hey! Asshole, stop right there!" I yelled as he grabbed her purse looking up at me in shock.

The women was old and slow, and didn't turn to face the man fast enough- so I sprinted forward toward them as the man ran like his ass was on fire.

"Hey! Stop!" I yell, following after him as he run down one of the jogging paths, dodging a couple of slow joggers on the road heading towards the dog park.

"Thief! Stop the thief!" I yelled as he kept running.

I was almost out of breath but I kept following him, when I heard a familiar barking, again, in front of me as a ball of white fur entered my line of sight.

You have got to be kidding me?

I saw the homeless man, picking up dog poop from the floor, as I yelled waving my hands.

The thief was approaching him.

"Hey! Croc shoe! Stop that thief!" I yelled at him, as he looked up at me. I saw his brows wrinkle in confusion just before he spotted the running douche bag approach him.

He stood up as if it was a slow motion movie scene, and he did something that made me stop in my tracks and gag.

The homeless man grabbed the bag of poop in his hand, as it was the only form of weapon he had, extending out his arm and smacking the thief in his face with it- practically causing it to splat all over the douche bags cheek and down his neck.

I blinked in disgust and shock, approaching the scene, as the guy started aggressively wiping his face- yelling and shouting in anger.

"Holy...shit." I breath catching the literal meaning of my words before busting out a laugh eyeing the thief who was going through a crisis, and had dropped the bag on the floor.

I picked it up, carefully to not get dog shit residue all over me or my muse's bag.

"What you do that for?" I asked full on gasping for air at how funny this was.

"You said he was a thief!" The hobo replied.

"You could have tripped him over! Not thrown dog shit on him!"

"You really are annoying. Not even a thanks?"

I spotted a park guard, who was a short blobby man- sweating through his uniform and hiding his balding hair under his tight cap. He approached us with shock on his face, trying to make sense of everything.

"What the heck happened!"

"They assaulted me with dog poop." The thief yelled.

"I know you did not just say 'they'. I was catching your thieving ass. He had the dog shit!" I laughed at this whole situation.

"This isn't funny! Come with me now!" The guard ordered talking through his walkie talkie.

"What?!? Why?!! He did it!" I yelled at the homeless man.

"Are you serious? You said he was a thief!"

"He is a thief!"

"You too!" The Park officer pointed at the man.

"What!"

"All three of you follow me, before I lock you up with handcuffs!"

Well...shit.