Good Dog [Tuvlan]

End of the boy's first day plus a few hours.

He was being assigned a job by the school to help plant and beautify a certain plot of land. Seeing as how the boy had shown an inclination to be less agressive in more natural surroundings, the Administrator could justify sending this special case here with minimal observation. And, without the boy really knowing or caring, this particular spot was an area around the school that was rather out of the way of usual passersby, which meant the boy could both screw up incredibly and minimize his chances of getting... distracted.

The Aide finished instructing him and he had begun his work fifteen minutes ago. Lucia would see a 6'2 tall red head with hair that went down past his shoulders walk into view. Parts of the left side of his head was shaved, he wore a black eye-patch around his right eye, and was wearing what looked like... was probably a dog collar with a nametag on it. Black t-shirt, black double-belted kilt, worn looking black boots that groused beneath him with every step---from all the black that the boy was wearing, he looked ill-equipped and probably smell it as well. As he got closer, Lucia might be able to see the nametag, which read:



The boy himself would not notice the small, blond girl atop the wall, hefting a large plastic bag of dirt and slamming it down next to the plot. He smiled to no one, an excited, happy smile that seemed just a tad happier than any normal person should.

Today, the boy was growing things. And the boy loved it when things were GETTING HUGE.

New Thread Theme Song: Nujabes Compilation

       The boy then proceeded to stretch himself skyward toward the sun. Sweat made his clothes stick to his body and his kilt into world's greatest natural air conditioner.

       ...And as he did, something pitter-pattered against his back. Slowly, he reacted, turning around, scanning for whatever it was that hit him until his gaze went earthward. He face began glowing. Seeds.

       Reverently, the boy crouched down, scooping them up and pocketing them in the back of his kilt. As simple as they might be the boy actually had some plans for these. The boy went about face though after the moment's pause leaving again. If Lucia would continue to watch him, she'd eventually see him reappearing, pushing a wheelbarrow filled with shovels, hoes, fertilizer, and a coiled up length of hose, before setting them down. Grabbing the length of the shovel, the boy began to pick up the roses, hybrid delphinium, freesia, daffodils, anemone, and several other species and started placing them in some of the pre-dug holes while putting others on top of untouched soil. It would be blatantly clear that the boy was trying to arrange them---trying to envision them as they would look, all planted. ---A skill that never really manifested itself in the boy ordinarily. This would continue on for the next thirty minutes as he kept bringing out flowers, re-arranging them.

       "Smash."

       It took a while, but as he pulled the shovel back into his hands, he nodded to himself, seemingly satisfied. He went to the roses, taking them away again, constantly looking back from where he had pulled them as if trying to remember something. The "something" became clear, as he began to dig a corresponding number of holes for all the roses. They all seemed to vary in width by a bit and every now and then the boy would drop his shovel behind him before going back to the rose, carrying it over and double-checking.

       It was a meticulous amount of work, but the boy didn't stop moving even once, placing the displaced dirt into pile towards the back of the patch of the dirt. Finally bringing in the topsoil into play, he fill in the newly planted roses' gaps accompanied by a firm patting down with a smaller hand-held shovel.

       ...As for how exciting this would be to any observer never entered into his mind. The boy, when finally focused, was a workhorse, his muscles aching gloriously, the sweet smell of a growing garden filling his nose...

       All things considered, the boy was making spectacular time for his first day when he hit his first roadblock. There was an incredibly large rock in the pathway that the boy seemed to ignore, seemed to just put the pots on top of, in fact. But now, as he was digging and planting the plants, he finally was forced to deal with it. He looked around for something, but he always ended up staring back at the large thing, shaking his head.

       "Smash."

       After what felt like three minutes the boy just stalked his way over to it and began trying to lift it, but to no avail. It budged, but it appeared to be stuck deep in the ground. Probably awkward shaped, but the boy didn't notice anything like that. It almost seemed like he would give up WHEN HE SUDDENLY CROUCHED DOWN TO IT QUICKLY AND TRIED IT AGAIN.

       ...Was he trying to trick the rock into letting its guard down?

       He turned away from it.

       AND REPEATED THIS FIVE MORE TIMES.

       On the fifth time, he seemed to just to decide to go with it and continue on pulling it up, these awkward, ungodly sounds disturbing the otherwise peaceful nature---*POCK*

       A chunk of the rock flew up to his face, knocking him backwards, crashing onto one of the flowers. Stupid idea. To the boy who he was earlier, it would have been appropriate for him to look mournfully at his stupid mistake.

       Would have been.

       Instead, as the swelling of a bruise on his forehead began to form, an EXCITED look seemed to glaze over the boy's face, who quickly pushed himself up from his backwards prone position and tried lifting the rock again.

       *POCK* *POCK*

       More rocks crumbled under him, the spray flying about. He suddenly dropped it onto his toes, catching it with the steel-toes of his boots, and slipping away from it, stalking away in what looked like a trance over to the wheelbarrow.

       He returned to the rock with a mattock. His once calm face was now positively GLOWING with completely unwarranted and unnecessary violence.


       First strike. Debris flew everywhere over the dirt patch.

"SMASH! SMASH! SMASH!"

"SMASH! SMASH! SMASH!"

"=D!!!"

       The once beautiful potential of the dirt pile began to shower with rocks flying everywhere, even far into the grass, some shooting off and breaking against the wall of the unknown observer as the boy seemed to lose himself in the sudden challenge.

       TODAY WAS THE BEST DAY EVER.

      "SMASH---?"

       The boy abruptly turned about as he snapped the head of the mattock into the rock. He was readying his fist to start punching it instead, but there was laughter. LAUGHTER.

       HAD SOMEONE COME TO PLAY WITH HIM?

      "=D!?"

       He watched as a small... pink rabbit slid slightly into view from behind the tree, but it was on top of a wall. Or what he thought was a rabbit, anyways. His expression calmed as he was trying to remember what he was supposed to be doing, while trying to figure out what was going on behind that tree---

       ---The boy saw a blur of small, brown movement rush. He jumped after it, going onto all fours, mouth hanging open, hands lashing out ungracefully as he tried---tried but failed---to catch the small blur of motion.

       "Good Boy, come to Momma."

       Was

       Was the wall talking to him?

       So caught up in the motions of chasing after the thing, he didn't stop to ponder, until he was at the base of a wall.

       He only realized then realized, staring at the stopped thing, that he had been chasing just an acorn.

       ...

       God, that was fun.

       ---Another quick movement caught the boy by surprise, looking down at a small wrapped parcel. He crouched down to it, picking up the thing, sniffing it.

       A reward?

       "=D!?"

       His nose was about to touch the gift, sniffing rather violently at it, when he heard rustling from above him, making him stare up immediately. Standing atop the wall was the pink rabbit he had only glimpsed at before---only to realize it wasn't a rabbit.

       It was a very large rabbit. Or person in a fluffy pink dress.

       BUT IT WAS PROBABLY A VERY LARGE RABBIT.

       ---Suddenly, the acorn that he had abandoned in favor of ogling the wrapped gift. But he had forgotten that it was an acorn. All the boy saw was the sudden movement of a small brown blur.

    "Tuvlan was it?" the rabbit asked... clearly, drawing the boy's attention again. He nodded fervently in affirmative.

       "SMASH! =D"

    "Lets play a game, we'll start off slow."

      "=D!?"

       She made no motions towards him, nor raised her hand... instead succeeding in drawing all focus on the small brown blur. The boy looked up excitedly, his eye trying to keep after it.

   "Fetch!"


       Quickly, the boy bounded after it, tongue sliding out to the side of his face absentmindedly as his face was staring skyward, trying to listen for the whistle. THIS WAS SO INCREDIBLY FUN.

       And perhaps... Lucia didn't realize it. However, this was probably the first time that the boy had played anything with anybody in what was probably... ten years. How could she possibly understand the full weight of her actions to the boy?

       He raced onward and onward to catch the small brown blur... only to realize that he had chased after an acorn again. HOW did she DO THAT?---Although, if the boy really thought about it, he could turn his fists into blurs by punching really fast... but the synapses in his mind weren't firing rapidly to make conclusions. He had been told by Rabbit to fetch---and she held the authority of the wall. Quickly retrieving the precious parcel in both his hands, hugged dearly to his chest, the boy raced back to complete his assigned mission. Fetch. To retrieve and give back. He had seen dogs do it. Sometimes, he joined them, though the person who told them to fetch always ended up yelling at him and sometimes the two of them would end up "playing." The dogs also sometimes joined in on the playing.

       Those were good times, although people in blue uniforms and stars on their chests often appeared and told him to come with them.

       "Good boy."

       Rabbit reached on down and the boy shifted quietly in his own mind. However, the boy could only register that this was not an offer for him to pull down Rabbit and engage in "playtime." They were already playing. Then, the synapses fired in his head again and he reached up, offering the acorn. Completing his mission.

       Accomplishing things made him feel good.

       As if to acknowledge this, another similar gift dropped and the boy, failing to catch it, immediately went to pounce over it, crouching and sniffing it close to his face. He promptly pocketed it so that it could join its brother. Then, Rabbit's voice called out to him again, drawing his attention. At this point, the boy looked up instinctively. Happily.

       "Alright, this time I'm throwing it super far!"


       ---OHGODHECOULDN'TEVENSEETHEBLUR---

       The boy ran.

       THE BOY ran.

    THE BOY RAN.

---

Lesson Learned:
-Extended hands in close proximity does not always mean "playtime." Sometimes an extended hand is for praise. (Very Slight Increase To Acumen Of Understanding Body Language)

After Hours End Theme Song: Sincerely by Nujabes

       THE BOY RAN.

       The boy ran until his lungs were on fire. The boy ran, trying to see the acorn, the whistling going on beyond even the boy's scope of vision and hearing as far as he could tell. Rabbit had told him that she would throw it far, but he didn't know she had such an arm on her.

       The boy ran, until he ran into the suburbs, collapsing onto the concrete, into the cement...

       ...And as he collapsed, his body completely, thoroughly exhausted, he whimpered a little bit.

       After all, it had been a good day. And he didn't want to let down who finally, finally decided to play with him. Slowly, even though it hurt him incredibly, he continued to crawl. Every bit of energy he recovered was immediately expended...

       The night grew dark, when the aide found him.

       Laughing.

       She was frazzled, hair looking unkempt, as she finally spotted him with her low-lights. She stepped out of her car, ready to give her a scolding, but when she saw the boy, she couldn't be angry.

       The boy was crying.

       Crying with laughter.

       As he sat against the base of the acorn tree, he slowly treasured the acorn close to his chest. He couldn't wait to give it back...

       But it would have to wait until tomorrow---

---

End of After Hours Word Count:
"Tuvlan" - 2129 Words
Lucia - 2008 Words