Alastair sat in his flat, sipping on a milky cup of tea like the proud Englishman he was. He picked up his newspaper, flicking through endless media tales (lies, essentially) that didn't interest him one bit. Suddenly, his front door burst open.
"What is it now, Carl?" Alastair questioned monotonously. Carl slammed the door behind him - ignoring the question as well as Alastair himself - and gave a sigh of relief.
"Jesus, it's raining cats and dogs out there!" he gasped, helping himself to a shortbread biscuit on the counter.
"Excuse me-"
"Absolute chaos!" Carl puffed again. Alastair turned to his window as a tortoiseshell flew past, followed by a chihuahua plummeting to its presumable doom. He winced.
"We're going to need an umbrella." Carl grimaced.
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The two exited the lift and strode - at each other's sides as always - out of the lobby. Carl's umbrella shot up while another dog was flung at them like a missile. Alastair caught the fluffy thing in his arms. The plump corgi panted, beaming. It sniffed Alastair, only before giving him a soft lick in the nose; Alastair almost sneezed but didn't want to scare or make the dog disgusted by him at all. Corgis were upper-class creatures, he knew that well.
Carl held the umbrella over him and Alastair. He grinned, Alastar's lips curved ever-so-slightly so Carl could recognise it as at the very least a small smile.
"I'll call him Watson."
"What? Like John Watson?" Alastair clasped a hand over his own face.
"No, Caaaarrrll," he exhaled in irritation. "Seriously, you watch too much television."
"And you don't, Mr 'never misses an episode of The Great British Bake Off'?" Carl folded his arms.
"No, I think it suits him, Watson really does." Alastair mused, avoiding Carl's retort. What he had said was true, after all.
Carl pouted and turned away, muttering "Boring." just loud enough for Alastair to hear.
"What do you say, Watson? Want to come home with me?"
YOU ARE READING
Idiom
HumorWARNING - OLD AND RUBBISH CONCEPT WAS OK I ADORE THE COVER STILL BUT THIS WAS TOO BAD TO GO ON MY PROPER ACCOUNT SO IF YOU WANT IT'S HERE BUT DON'T TORTURE YOURSELF WITH BAD WRITING When idioms and sayings become literal, best friends Alastair and C...
