PAW Patrol: Ryder's Errand

Chapter 3- Always Piss in Aisle Four

Entrusting Rocky, Marshall, Skye, and Zuma to possibly fixing the TV and maybe doing something about the kitchen fire, Chase and Rubble split from the squad and piled into the officer's police cruiser. Their objective was thrillingly different, a "plan B" in case Rocky's -inevitable to fail- plan didn't work out.

"This'll be fun, you and me," Chase said, giving the bulldog a slightly unnerving smile. "We don't hang out often."

"Indeed... it almost feels too good to be true," came his copilot's sarcastic reply.

"How so?"

Rubble's greatest failure in that very moment was not realizing Chase hadn't caught on to the sarcasm. "Well you know," he sighed, leaning back in his chair as a joke came to his head. "Clearly Rocky's just getting you out of the tower so he can fix it first."

"What!?" Chase slammed on the brakes, dragging the entire car to an abrupt stop.

"Aaaaaahhhh!!" Rubble was launched forward, with no windshield to catch his flight path. His body flung itself into the road and landed in an awkward tumble.

"You never mentioned that!" the officer called out to him, yelling at the tattered corpse where it lay.

The bulldog weakly looked up, his vision blurring. "That... was sarcasm. Why doesn't your car... have seatbelts?"

"Don't change the subject!" Chase flattened his ears. "If Rocky's racing me, this changes everything! Now get back in the car!"

Rubble didn't move right away, likely from the blunt force trauma actively wreaking havoc on his body. Dragging his small frame back into the car, Chase was relentless in his new mission; anytime Rocky's competitions got involved, the gloves came off. Chase dropped his dazed friend in place, shifted the car's gears, cracked his neck to the side, and pinned the gas pedal. They sped off in grandiose fashion, like superheroes soaring to the climatic third act of the movie.

"Ugh... my head," Rubble's vision gradually returned. "Malmart is roughly across town, I believe. Ryder doesn't shop there often; great prices, horrible quality."

"Oh yeah, tell me about it. I buy dog treats from there all the time," Chase replied, steering the vehicle downtown. "How long till we get there?"

"Well given traffic around noon, it might take us thirty minutes, maybe more."

"Not good enough," Chase squeezed his paws against the controls, brimming with intensity. "If I'm gonna beat Rocky, we need to be faster. We'll need to take the shortcut."

Rubble gave him an odd look, "beat him? Why though, it doesn't need to be a competition. And what shortcu- aaaaahhhh!!!" The bulldog yelled in surprise as the world swerved under him. Emitted a deranged cackle, Chase floored the gas pedal and drove directly through a wire fence, annihilating the obstacle and hurling into a public park.

A wooden bench was the first victim, obliterated by the speeding vehicle and blasting wood shrapnel across the park. "Enng- road's uneven!" Chase said, bouncing unstable in the driver's seat. Screaming people dove away for dear life as the police cruiser smashed through the park like a drunken battering ram.

Rubble shielded himself with nothing but his arms, "Chase!!!"

"I need to get my tires aired!" came the shepherd's gritted reply, fighting to not get thrown out of the car from the collisions. They barreled through with reckless abandonment, shredding the fine grass under the tiles and catching air off the decorative rocks.