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More from Articus-the-tigulf
A late story about how Daryl "Cookie Dog Sports Blog" came into being
"A blog?..."
The white lion sat there with an incredulous on his face, staring back at the retriever mix as if expecting to say that the idea was a joke. Daryl chuckled, rocking back in the metal chair of their cafe table as he said, "Hey, plenty of legitimate reporters have blogs."
Leone scoffed, making the dog lean forward and retort, "I just want it to keep in practice of sports writing, maybe get a little known in FBA media circles. I mean, I can't do much with my limited knowledge, but I'm learning more everyday. I'm actually gonna go to a Voyageurs game the next chance I get. Since they're close, it won't cost too much to get there. Also, I have some interviews I wanna set up."
Leone sipped his cider before responding, still not buying this, "Yeah, and where are you gonna fit that in with your reporter job, the club, the theatre and everything else." perking up his ear as he saw the goldmation flinch at the mention of the first item on that list. The dog cleared his throat, tapping his finger on the straw of this drink and swirling it about as he said, "Well, that list is a little smaller now..." He looked down, as if gaining a sudden interest in the frost creeping up the bottom of the full length window. For a moment, the pair could only hear the chatter and the wind between them before the lion leaned forward and said, "And what does that mean..."
Taking a sip of his soda, Daryl cleared his throat and said, "Its a bit of a long story..."
Fussing with his vest, Daryl checked his reflection again in the mirror. He had dressed up special today, because it was the day that his editor was finally going to get back to him on the Alfie story. He'd written more an mini exposé than he normally would have, but with the interview being the only one before the rat got drafted, he thought it only fitting to put a little more meat to its bones. By the time he was done, it was about twice the size asked for; something the retreiver mix was sure would just get taken care of after editing. So, it was with great excitement that he went to the door of his editor's office, getting a gruff, "Come in..." after he knocked on the door.
The man behind the desk was not a small man. He wasn't fat, as some might assume for a house cat like himself, but went in the other direction. The cat, grey on grey stripes denoting him as a tabby, was incredible tall, and slender. He lounged back in the black leather desk chair; still able to loom over Daryl even as he sat. He was a grim to say the least, every feature seeming to be made to make him more intimidating. The stripes around his eyes were jagged and a darker shade than the rest, bringing his deeply emerald eyes into sharp focus. His cheek were swallow, showing off sharps cheekbones behind the fur. Even his name was grim. Arterio Claus, though he demand all his employees call him Mr.Claus or; though the braver workers had the penchant to calling him "Sir Claws." In a gruff voice, heavy with a Italian accent, he growled, "Sit down." Daryl, who had been standing at attention and holding back his excitement, nodded, sitting down on the threadbare chair in front of the feline's desk. He reigned in his look of overeager anticipation, wanting to seem at bit professional. Donning what he hoped was a relatively neutral face, he awaited for the cat to speak. In the mean time,Mr.Claus had poured himself a drink and took a deliberate sip before clearing his throat. These two acts alone were enough to rob the dog of his excited energy; sinking a bit in his chair. When the cat finally spoke, he took some papers off his desk and, never taking his eyes off them, said. "So, Daryl... I was able to look over the interview and I had a few questions."
Daryl's tail sagged, drawing in close to him as he nodded, saying softly, "Yes?"
The cat, his cold eyes trained firmly on the page before him, said in a low tone. "Let me first say that I commend your writing skills in this article of yours. It reminds of how it was good choice to hire you; even with your severe lack of experience." He put a heavy empathsis on the word severe, as if to drive the word further into the goldmatian's head and remind him how limited his time had been in the world of professional reporting. Further more, a brief but powerful glance hit the dog as the cat moved on to say, "However, I have some concerns on the content... I gave you a list, a very specific list of questions which you were to interview this...rat who has so deigned to play in the league. My question is why you did not follow my prescribed questions to, the, letter."
The cat never raised his voice beyond normal level, but it was obvious that he was thoroughly unappreciative of the article, well written as it may be. Had Daryl not already lost his positive energy, it would have definitely have vanished under the assault of the feline's words. However, a small spark remained a light inside the canine, allowing to clear his own throat and say, "Well sir, I was following the list, as you said, but I decided it best to change some of the questions because of how Mr.Norwich was reacting. I only changed my line of questioning for the sake of preserving the interview. Also, I'd like to think that this interview allowed us an insight on a different side of Mr.Norwich's life; that he isn't all some hellraising, speciest street rat. It really explores-"
He was cut off by a sharp cough from Claus, the cat laying down the article in a motion too slow as to not be deliberate. His voice cut through the still air between the pair; making the dog flinch. Just as slowly, the cat rose from his seat to lean forward, truly looming over the boy now as he said, "If I had wanted a fesh aspect on that filth that hawaii drafted, I would have told you to get one. I wanted the world to see that rat as the dirty asshole we all know he is inside. But no, the new boy gives the exact opposite, making it seem like this ass has some goddamn redeeming factors. This. Is. Garbage, to me. Now, rewrite that the way I wanted."
Daryl sat there for a moment, struck silent. After a moment, he said, "But sir... I don't have any response-"
The cat broke in again, "That's why we lie, boy. I want that rat's name smeared through so much dirt that it'll make germaphobes cry." With that, he sat and turned to look at other things while Daryl sat there in shock. For a second, he just sat there. But then, then he got mad. He didn't work to get hired to write lies. Besides, he liked Mr.Norwich; even if he was a bit rough around the edges. Daryl wasn't one to get mad; unless you drew him into betraying his beliefs. To be told to lie just to make a decent rat look bad, well that just royally pissed of him and every single belief he had. Angrily he stood up and, too angry to think about what he was saying, and yelled, "I quit!" slamming his hands down on the table. The fur on the back of his neck bristled, his whole body raising up in that canine way. All the cat did was narrow his eyes, the rest of his features staying still as he said flatly, "Then get out of my building."
The next few minutes went by in a blurr for Daryl. He cleared his sparsely cover desk, growling under his breath the whole time and left the building shortly after. It wasn't until he was out of the building and a few blocks away that the sudden realization hit him. He'd just quit a job that he had been lucky to even had, and now he was more or less cut off from the world of the FBA. The sudden weight of what that meant hit him like a sandbag across the back. It made his shoulders slump as his thoughts to shift out of focus. He rode the bus home in silence; the world seeming to almost turn grey as he made his way into the small rental property he called home.
It wasn't until he bumped into a wall of black furred muscle that he snapped out of it. Shakin his head and the cobwebs from his thoughts, he looked up and said, "Oh, hey Darrius." The massive stallion turned around; his torso bare except for the stitched heart tattoo that covered his. The equine smiled wide and said, "Evening Daryl, you're home early."
In a flat, resigned tone, Daryl replied, "Yeah well, I kind of quit my job." Without even stopping, as if the statement was of less consequence than it actually was, he walked around the equine and went to his room. He didn't even bother closing the door before he crawled onto his bed; curling up and closing his eyes. From the living room, Darrius folded his ears back ashis lips pulled down in a concerned grimace. He ducked into the canine room and sat down beside him, reaching over to gently rub his broad hands over his back. In a low voice he asked, "You wanna talk about it." to which he received only a headshake. He nodded, gently pulling up the canine it a gently hug, wrapping him up in his broad arms. After several quiet moments had passed, the stallion perked up, saying in a voice just above a whisper, "Hey, I think I have an idea..."
"...and that's where the thought came from." Daryl said, sipping his drink again as he smiled at the feline scross from him.
By this point, Leone had relented in his position, nodding thoughtfully. Licking a bit of the hot cider off his upper lip, he said, "Well, I guess you make due with what you have. I'll have to agree that it will help you stay in tuned with what's going on. It just seems so, I dunno..." His gaze drifted to the window, thinking of what word would fit best. In the meantime, Daryl broke in with, "I know, but I'm too invested in this now. I... I really like it; more than I ever thought I would. The people I'm meeting, its like nothing I've been a part of before. I can't give it up now."
Leone's gaze came back from the window see the canine across from him smiling a bit in the way of someone who had stumbled on a new passion, but still wasn't good at talking about it. The cat let out a long sigh, pushing the steam away from his cider. A small smile spread across his face and all he said was, "Well, I guess we'll just have to see where thigns go won't we." The smile was soon mirrored on Daryl's face and the two soon returned to their pastries, the promise of what was to come hanging between them.
Art ©
pac
The FBA ©
BuckHopper
"A blog?..."
The white lion sat there with an incredulous on his face, staring back at the retriever mix as if expecting to say that the idea was a joke. Daryl chuckled, rocking back in the metal chair of their cafe table as he said, "Hey, plenty of legitimate reporters have blogs."
Leone scoffed, making the dog lean forward and retort, "I just want it to keep in practice of sports writing, maybe get a little known in FBA media circles. I mean, I can't do much with my limited knowledge, but I'm learning more everyday. I'm actually gonna go to a Voyageurs game the next chance I get. Since they're close, it won't cost too much to get there. Also, I have some interviews I wanna set up."
Leone sipped his cider before responding, still not buying this, "Yeah, and where are you gonna fit that in with your reporter job, the club, the theatre and everything else." perking up his ear as he saw the goldmation flinch at the mention of the first item on that list. The dog cleared his throat, tapping his finger on the straw of this drink and swirling it about as he said, "Well, that list is a little smaller now..." He looked down, as if gaining a sudden interest in the frost creeping up the bottom of the full length window. For a moment, the pair could only hear the chatter and the wind between them before the lion leaned forward and said, "And what does that mean..."
Taking a sip of his soda, Daryl cleared his throat and said, "Its a bit of a long story..."
Fussing with his vest, Daryl checked his reflection again in the mirror. He had dressed up special today, because it was the day that his editor was finally going to get back to him on the Alfie story. He'd written more an mini exposé than he normally would have, but with the interview being the only one before the rat got drafted, he thought it only fitting to put a little more meat to its bones. By the time he was done, it was about twice the size asked for; something the retreiver mix was sure would just get taken care of after editing. So, it was with great excitement that he went to the door of his editor's office, getting a gruff, "Come in..." after he knocked on the door.
The man behind the desk was not a small man. He wasn't fat, as some might assume for a house cat like himself, but went in the other direction. The cat, grey on grey stripes denoting him as a tabby, was incredible tall, and slender. He lounged back in the black leather desk chair; still able to loom over Daryl even as he sat. He was a grim to say the least, every feature seeming to be made to make him more intimidating. The stripes around his eyes were jagged and a darker shade than the rest, bringing his deeply emerald eyes into sharp focus. His cheek were swallow, showing off sharps cheekbones behind the fur. Even his name was grim. Arterio Claus, though he demand all his employees call him Mr.Claus or; though the braver workers had the penchant to calling him "Sir Claws." In a gruff voice, heavy with a Italian accent, he growled, "Sit down." Daryl, who had been standing at attention and holding back his excitement, nodded, sitting down on the threadbare chair in front of the feline's desk. He reigned in his look of overeager anticipation, wanting to seem at bit professional. Donning what he hoped was a relatively neutral face, he awaited for the cat to speak. In the mean time,Mr.Claus had poured himself a drink and took a deliberate sip before clearing his throat. These two acts alone were enough to rob the dog of his excited energy; sinking a bit in his chair. When the cat finally spoke, he took some papers off his desk and, never taking his eyes off them, said. "So, Daryl... I was able to look over the interview and I had a few questions."
Daryl's tail sagged, drawing in close to him as he nodded, saying softly, "Yes?"
The cat, his cold eyes trained firmly on the page before him, said in a low tone. "Let me first say that I commend your writing skills in this article of yours. It reminds of how it was good choice to hire you; even with your severe lack of experience." He put a heavy empathsis on the word severe, as if to drive the word further into the goldmatian's head and remind him how limited his time had been in the world of professional reporting. Further more, a brief but powerful glance hit the dog as the cat moved on to say, "However, I have some concerns on the content... I gave you a list, a very specific list of questions which you were to interview this...rat who has so deigned to play in the league. My question is why you did not follow my prescribed questions to, the, letter."
The cat never raised his voice beyond normal level, but it was obvious that he was thoroughly unappreciative of the article, well written as it may be. Had Daryl not already lost his positive energy, it would have definitely have vanished under the assault of the feline's words. However, a small spark remained a light inside the canine, allowing to clear his own throat and say, "Well sir, I was following the list, as you said, but I decided it best to change some of the questions because of how Mr.Norwich was reacting. I only changed my line of questioning for the sake of preserving the interview. Also, I'd like to think that this interview allowed us an insight on a different side of Mr.Norwich's life; that he isn't all some hellraising, speciest street rat. It really explores-"
He was cut off by a sharp cough from Claus, the cat laying down the article in a motion too slow as to not be deliberate. His voice cut through the still air between the pair; making the dog flinch. Just as slowly, the cat rose from his seat to lean forward, truly looming over the boy now as he said, "If I had wanted a fesh aspect on that filth that hawaii drafted, I would have told you to get one. I wanted the world to see that rat as the dirty asshole we all know he is inside. But no, the new boy gives the exact opposite, making it seem like this ass has some goddamn redeeming factors. This. Is. Garbage, to me. Now, rewrite that the way I wanted."
Daryl sat there for a moment, struck silent. After a moment, he said, "But sir... I don't have any response-"
The cat broke in again, "That's why we lie, boy. I want that rat's name smeared through so much dirt that it'll make germaphobes cry." With that, he sat and turned to look at other things while Daryl sat there in shock. For a second, he just sat there. But then, then he got mad. He didn't work to get hired to write lies. Besides, he liked Mr.Norwich; even if he was a bit rough around the edges. Daryl wasn't one to get mad; unless you drew him into betraying his beliefs. To be told to lie just to make a decent rat look bad, well that just royally pissed of him and every single belief he had. Angrily he stood up and, too angry to think about what he was saying, and yelled, "I quit!" slamming his hands down on the table. The fur on the back of his neck bristled, his whole body raising up in that canine way. All the cat did was narrow his eyes, the rest of his features staying still as he said flatly, "Then get out of my building."
The next few minutes went by in a blurr for Daryl. He cleared his sparsely cover desk, growling under his breath the whole time and left the building shortly after. It wasn't until he was out of the building and a few blocks away that the sudden realization hit him. He'd just quit a job that he had been lucky to even had, and now he was more or less cut off from the world of the FBA. The sudden weight of what that meant hit him like a sandbag across the back. It made his shoulders slump as his thoughts to shift out of focus. He rode the bus home in silence; the world seeming to almost turn grey as he made his way into the small rental property he called home.
It wasn't until he bumped into a wall of black furred muscle that he snapped out of it. Shakin his head and the cobwebs from his thoughts, he looked up and said, "Oh, hey Darrius." The massive stallion turned around; his torso bare except for the stitched heart tattoo that covered his. The equine smiled wide and said, "Evening Daryl, you're home early."
In a flat, resigned tone, Daryl replied, "Yeah well, I kind of quit my job." Without even stopping, as if the statement was of less consequence than it actually was, he walked around the equine and went to his room. He didn't even bother closing the door before he crawled onto his bed; curling up and closing his eyes. From the living room, Darrius folded his ears back ashis lips pulled down in a concerned grimace. He ducked into the canine room and sat down beside him, reaching over to gently rub his broad hands over his back. In a low voice he asked, "You wanna talk about it." to which he received only a headshake. He nodded, gently pulling up the canine it a gently hug, wrapping him up in his broad arms. After several quiet moments had passed, the stallion perked up, saying in a voice just above a whisper, "Hey, I think I have an idea..."
"...and that's where the thought came from." Daryl said, sipping his drink again as he smiled at the feline scross from him.
By this point, Leone had relented in his position, nodding thoughtfully. Licking a bit of the hot cider off his upper lip, he said, "Well, I guess you make due with what you have. I'll have to agree that it will help you stay in tuned with what's going on. It just seems so, I dunno..." His gaze drifted to the window, thinking of what word would fit best. In the meantime, Daryl broke in with, "I know, but I'm too invested in this now. I... I really like it; more than I ever thought I would. The people I'm meeting, its like nothing I've been a part of before. I can't give it up now."
Leone's gaze came back from the window see the canine across from him smiling a bit in the way of someone who had stumbled on a new passion, but still wasn't good at talking about it. The cat let out a long sigh, pushing the steam away from his cider. A small smile spread across his face and all he said was, "Well, I guess we'll just have to see where thigns go won't we." The smile was soon mirrored on Daryl's face and the two soon returned to their pastries, the promise of what was to come hanging between them.
Art ©
pacThe FBA ©
BuckHopper
Category All / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 1280 x 879px
File Size 91.9 kB
Sir Claus, Mister Claus, whatever the fuck his name is, is an asshole, and ABSOLUTE ASSHOLE! You go Cookiedawg! Daryl is too good to go and lie just to get the media's attention, Alfie's no saint, but that's just going too far. This was a terrific read, and I am really glad that Daryl took the highroad and scrupled when it came to his sense morality, because it's obvious that his ex-boss doesn't have a conscience.
But I digress, Great Story, even better character and it was just overall awesome! I hope you will write more Arti!
But I digress, Great Story, even better character and it was just overall awesome! I hope you will write more Arti!
Awww, thanks Rod, I'm glad you liked it. I just wish I hadn't taken so long to finish.
One thing is that Daryl can relate to the part of Alfie where he comes from a poorer home situation. Not as bad as Alfie by any means, but by no means rolling in money. Also, he can't help bu look for the good in people.
One thing is that Daryl can relate to the part of Alfie where he comes from a poorer home situation. Not as bad as Alfie by any means, but by no means rolling in money. Also, he can't help bu look for the good in people.
Aww, thanks Kinto ^w^
He's a friend who help him out a while back in this story http://www.furaffinity.net/view/12629977/
He's a friend who help him out a while back in this story http://www.furaffinity.net/view/12629977/
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