IMPORTANT A/N:
Normal: Humans. Like their thoughts and everything else. Descriptions are also written in normal letters.
Bold: Brian as Cooper
Italic: Wolfram
Thanks to Elyxer and Alex for their beta work and giving me enough thoughts to really get the nerve to post the story.*hugs*
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Claws scratched across a painted canvas. An abstract that was almost finished.
The cat purred.
He liked to scratch his nails over the hard canvases of the blond invader.
It was the only thing he liked about having him here.
"Wolfram!", he heard the voice of the intruder and backed off.
He knew that he wasn't allowed to scratch his nails here, but who cared?
He was here long before the interloper. He had a right to do as he pleased.
Justin was furious.
He had to finish three canvases for the next exhibition at the GLC, and now, Ethan’s cat had destroyed ANOTHER one of his paintings.
As loving as the cat had appeared in the beginning, now, the only feelings he had towards the cat were disgust and anger.
The cat was a bitch to live with.
He'd hated him since Justin decided to move in with Ethan.
Wolfram drove him nuts, even his name made him want to puke.
Wolfram von Eschenbach.
Who would call a cat that? A cat with a title? Justin sighed.
His boyfriend of course.
Because, Mr. Eschenbach, once was an important poet in Germany, a few centuries ago, or so Ethan had told him when Justin asked him why he named his cat the way he did.
"Tsk, tsk."
He asked a German student once and she didn't even know who the hell he was, and Justin thought that she'd have to know it, because she studied stuff like that, but no.
She had no fucking clue.
So, the name of the cat was silly, and the cat was stupid. Full stop.
That cat even liked Ethan’s violin music, which Justin didn't like anymore.
What once was romantic, now only was nerve wrecking.
And the cat... the cat just fit to Ethan's violin music.
Wolfram had destroyed another canvas. A canvas he needed for his show, so that at least one of them could earn some money.
That was the final straw. He knew he had to do something about that cat.
Otherwise, he’d be tempted to kick that damn cat out of the window, at the next opportunity.
He knew if he did that, he'd be the next one who'd be kicked out of the window, or the door.
It wasn't like it would destroy his world, but Ethan was still his boyfriend and he didn't want to fight with his boyfriend.
They did it enough already.
He sighed. It still depressed him sometimes that he couldn't remember the night he lost his virginity to some stranger, but somehow he knew that if he would remember this particular event his whole world would change.
At least he wouldn't have to live with that prick of a cat anymore.
He woke up that day in a strangers bed with only a note on the pillow beside him.
'Take your time and take a shower.
But be out before I'm back.
-BAK'
He knew that he named the guys son. Gus. Like his teddy bear, but he couldn't remember the guys name or his face.
He sighed again.
It didn't matter, what had happened.
He couldn't change one single thing. Even if he wanted.
*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°*°
Just fucking great. Could my week be any worse?
I don't think so.
I mean shit...
First, I got fired at Vanguard then this fucking dog bit me on my ankle when I passed it in the park, and now this.
I look at the reflection in the window and curse.
This wasn't happening, right?
Certainly, the shit Anita gave me last night was made in a bathtub in Taiwan, and I am on a bad trip.
A very bad trip, I have to say.
This just couldn't be happening.
I sigh with what sounds like a yelp.
I roll my eyes at my reflection. Just fucking great.
I'm a fucking black Labrador retriever! I have black fur everywhere.
This just has to be a bad joke. I mean I hate dogs.
Okay generally, I hate all kinds of animals, and dogs weren't even on top of my list.
It could have been worse. I could be a cat. A fucking pussy!
At least I'm not one of the dogs you could compare to a rat.
Like that dog Paris Hilton always carries around with her.
Like an animal is a fucking accessory!
"Got you!", I hear someone yell, and at the same time, I feel a sling tighten around my neck.
Okay, let me rephrase my last statement.
It could get worse than being a cat.
I could be a dog, in a cage, imprisoned in an animal shelter.
Well, right now it can only get better, right?
I can't think of a more pathetic way to spend my day.
I growl and bark at the guy, but he doesn't seem impressed.
He pulls on the sling and I follow.
What else can I do?
I mean, I'm a dog.
It's not like I can say anything to the guy so that he lets me go.
"Well pal, your next stop will be the animal shelter," the guy picks me up and pushes me into the dark back of his car.
I sigh and again it sounds like a yelp.
I look around and sigh again.
In front of me are more dogs, and they don't look very pleased to be in here.
The only breed I can say I know is that white Poodle in the back of the trunk.
"Oh, what a cutie."
"I hope they put the two of us into one cage."
I hear someone say and the Poodle trots forward, walks around me and sniffs on my back.
I turn around and growl at the Poodle.
"Don't you dare sniff on my ass. That part of my body is reserved for the male population of the country. Do I make myself clear?"
With an arrogant flip of her tail, the Poodle looks up at me and barks.
"If you say so."
Oh hell, I want to get out of here.
Okay, well, first I need to know how I got to be a dog to begin with...
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