"How's the pup?"
"He's so cute. I love him."
"Did you name him?"
"Yes..."
"Okay. What is it?"
"You'll just make fun of me."
"No I won't."
"Fine... Box."
"What? What do you mean box?"
"No. That's the dog's name."
"..."
"I named the dog Box, Grey with an E."
"Really?"
"Yes. See this is-"
"HAHAHAHAHAHA."
"Would you st-"
"WHO NAMES THEIR DOG BOX?"
"He is my dog and I-"
"HAHAHA I'M CACKLING."
"..."
"I NEED OXYGEN."
"GREYSON."
"Yes?"
"Are you done, jackass?"
"Kind of."
"Good. Now shut the hell up. He's my dog, and I thought it was cute. And he has that little spot shaped like a box on his ear."
"True."
"Exactly."
"hahaha..."
"You dipshit."
"How old are you?"
"What?"
"You are way younger than I expected."
"Bro, I'm 17."
"Oh. I'm 18."
"Only a few months age difference."
"I'm still older."
"Yes, we've established that."
"Haha, respect your elders."
"Stop."
"I look down at you."
"..."
"With pity filled eyes."
"You son of a biscuit."
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
My hands are so numb. Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?!
Alrighty then.
YOU ARE READING
Dog Pound
Short StoryIn which a girl calls a dog pound and a boy needs a friend. *SEQUEL TO WRONG NUMBER* *written through calls* *contains swearing*
