Welcome to The Three Things Challenge. For those of you unfamiliar with the challenge, every day Di at pensitivity101 lists three things that may, or may not, be related. The challenge is to simply read the prompt and see where your creativity takes you, using one, two or all three words in your post. There are no restrictions regarding length, style, or genre apart from keeping it family friendly. You can use the 3TC, #threethingschallenge or TTC as a tag and the logo if you wish
Your three things today are:
FEASIBLE SENSIBLE TRAUMA
Arriving at the scene, Corina got out the car, and pulled on the white suit, plastic over shoes and gloves. “Okay Tim what have we got here?” she asked the exhausted young man standing on the business side of the police coreden. “Blunt trauma to the head marm, and they’ve made a real mess of her, no teeth, hands or feet.” He replied shivering. Scech! Carina thought, this case was ringing alarm bells already. “Have forensics got a time of death yet.” She asked. An irritated voice from inside the tent retorted, “no I only just got here but looking at the state of rigamortis I’d say at least a week.” Taking Tim’s coffee out of his his cold hands she thought to herself it was time she got herself a nice sensible job, 9 to 5….
Knew it! Worrisome snifz really woz bad news Sparky eyeballs the unfolding events.
The brown fourlegs is all large head, solid limbs and sculptured muscle, a crease of silky hair rippling along his spine as he runs. The pretty Afghan, her coat shimmering in soft movement, following him. For a moment Sparky stares in appreciation at these two magnificent gods racing in and out between outraged fourlegs and slow witted hindlegs, to freedom – before common sense slams in sideways and he barks a panicky warning.
No Poppet, don’t do it!
“wot’syourproblem,matey?”
KevLegs, we gotta stop Poppet
“alrightmatey,I’mhungrytoo”
No. We gotta stop Poppet before it’s too late
“hotdogorburger?”
We gotta sto– dog-dammit! in a burst of insane speed – wot Whippets are famous for – he sprints away from KevLegs, leash snapping from handpaw, and races off to save Poppet.
Poppet, I’m coming. I’m coming
And Sparky is transformed from tingly Whippet into Fenrir, the gigantic wolfmate of Tyr, Norse god of legend. At least, he thinks he is. Always sez so. An ultra-sleek lightning fast grey battledog, zeroing onto thems, zig-zagging corners and cutting air to catch up. Lessening the distance with each bound. God of acceleration chasing gods of good looks.
Poppet! he barks Poppet, I’m com-iiing!
Poppet hears Sparky behind her – his bark closing fast. But she’s got no time for this nows. That big brown backside ahead pumping sturdy legs through the drink puddles is calling to her in irresistible colourful song. Summoning up all she ever wants, needs, must have. Nows.
Poppet, wait up!
Leave me alone Sparky she manages to pant can’t yu see I’m – preoccupied?
Poppet, stop
I cannot – no – never as she crashes into the wonderful brown backside of the big fourlegs who has, in fact, stopped to face their pursuer.
Snifz yuz Drizzle roars keep away, she’s mine his body vibrating with heat, licking at Poppet and leaving her in no doubt who’s in charge here.
Solid Rhodesian Ridgeback awaits sleek grey Whippet speeding towards him.
Sparky skids to a halt on outstretched pads, not winded in the slightest.
Hey, girl, stop what yu doin’ he pleads to Poppet the only way he knows how hey girl, yu’ll drive me to ruin
Wha? Poppet blurts, astonished.
Zeppelin, init he licks his chops first album, the bestest
Who?
Changed rock forever, erh, anyways thin tail protectively curled between his back legs Poppet don’t do this
“Sparky,comehere,comehereboy” KevLegs longways off, wobbling fast as he can wobble to try and catch up.
Poppet? Nice snifz-name Drizzle shakes his head approvingly before dropping it menacingly towards Sparky’s own delicate snout and my conquest
Over my dead paws
Leave off, Sparky, we’re a pair Poppet sez, dizzy from all this wonderful male attention.
Sparky knocks snouts with Drizzle so nows yu’d better stop and rebuild all yor ruins
No Sparky Poppet pleads I want this
Not gonna happen
Really? Drizzle lunges so quickly Sparky don’t see it happening. Blinding white pain behind his earflaps, ‘round his scruff.
SUBMIT! Drizzle roars
The pain, the pain without quarter Sparky chokes, pinned down the d-dogs of doom are h-howling m-more
Poppet finds herself jumping in to separate thems stop Drizzle, please stop, it’s only Sparky
Good advice, streetlegs Duncan irrupts onto the scene. Snout cold and wet, eyeballs smoldering, his badge of office bright across his black and tan chest: Thames Valley PD Unit.
Step away from the little fella he slaps his snout against Drizzle sharpish
Drizzle releases Sparky, who gets up, shakes himself down and determined to get back into the fight.
Sparky! Duncan’s commanding growl making the whippet pause in mid-leap.
Not Sparky, Fenrir sez Sparky
Wotever, just do it
Sparky starts tingling violently but does wot he’s told and backs away.
She’s with me, nows Drizzle sez, not giving ground my conquest, that’s fourlegs rules, and yu knows it
“easyboy” PC Andersen pulls Duncan to heel.
Duncan twitches earflaps, reluctantly agreeing the streetlegs is right. He turns his snout away, dismissing the problem.
Thought so Drizzle replies, returning the compliment. Nudging Poppet he whispers in her earflap run darling!
They sprint away into the distance, out of Herdwick pooping park, gone.
No wonder Poppet screwed up doggy intellectuals sighs Duncan.
Duncan looks down at him, his eyeballs cooling yu know I cannot. He ain’t broken no laws he grates between his teeth and he ain’t broken our ways
Wotz broken? Henry lumbers out of nowhere, all loose limbs and slobbery jowls.
Hello Henry Duncan looks at him didn’t see yuz down at doggy’s intellectuals?
Doggy’s wotzits?
▪
The trouble with hindlegs, PD Duncan muses, is they get all sorts of excited about nothing. PC Andersen is scritching into his handpaw to Roger which, to start with ain’t natural and, to end with, coz he’s got himself agitated.
“domesticdog,goneintowoods” PC Andersen is scritching in agitation
“nonsense,nonsense,nonsense” Roger scritches out of thin air.
Listen yu twos Duncan advises Henry and Sparky in a soft growl don’t go thinking of doing anything stupid?
Some mutts gotta go save Poppet? explains Sparky.
That’s her problem, not yors
And not yors either, s’pose Sparky is hoping about on tiny paws.
Yu twos got any common sense–
Sense? Henry quizzes.
Yes, sense repeats Duncan yu’ll both ignore that big brown muttwit and go grab some free nosh while it lasts
All yuz police fours ever think ‘bout is noshing Sparky yaps.
Dog-damned right! PD Duncan trots off towards the nosh stalls, PC Andersen still scritching into his handpaw at Roger.
Come on Henry, let’s get after ’ems
Both fourlegs wait for Duncan to disappear before dashing out of Herdwick pooping park, all stealthy lyk. Stealthily as a stout English Mastiff and tingly Whippet can manage.
They’re wearing steel that’s bright and true.
They carry news that must get through.
They choose the path where no-one goes.
The song bounces ‘round between Sparky’s earflaps.
Sparky? Henry whispers in a loud voice I got common sense, ain’t I?
Aww, buckets, mate
▪
Poppet and Drizzle find the nearest street corner to squirt off some of the excitement. Running from the law may not be new to the streetlegs Rhodesian Ridgeback but it certainly is to the pretty Afghan hound.
Come on we need to move Drizzle nudges her forward.
Where?
Follow me
Drizzle leads Poppet up Nelson Avenue and across Westley Piddle High Street, dodging between roundlegs.
“stupidanimals!” hindlegs shouts.
Drizzle trots a maze of back streets in a wide circle towards home, taking the long way to throw off any pursuit, his sporting female close at tail – just how he lyks it.
Caught up in the danger, Poppet starts considering wot she’s gone and done. Deserted Stonks at the Doggy Intellectuals Show. On the one paw, she’s never gonna hear the end of her scritching over that. On the other paw, she’s run off, init? So she’s probably never gonna hear about it, anyways.
Wot about Stonks?
Who?
Sharonpackmate, me companion
Wot about it without lessening his trot beforenows, init?
S’pose so!
Poppet’s can hardly get earflaps ‘round this new nows. Wotz harder is getting earflaps ‘round this big male with his earthy orange-snifz and meaty hindquarters wotz nows allhers. All hers! Wet snout holes pinch together in lustful delight. Honest to dog, there’s gonna be no probs in getting her earflaps ‘round any of that meat loaf up front. Thank yu!
Scraping clouds let fall a right load of rainlick, soaking both fourlegs. Drizzle’s fur stains black under all the drink – another alluring feature of his, Poppet thinks. She’s also thinks that Stonks always makes a B-line for the nearest coffee shop when its rainlicking. Unexpected memories of the snifz of coffee falters her step.
Keep up Drizzle barks
Stonks needs her coffee she whines.
Don’t bark poop he grunts, dismissively keep on trotting
Rainlick is bouncing up from the pavement into Poppet’s eyeballs, her beautiful hair is dripping in black tails, her pads are soaked and she stops to lick thems.
Wot nows? Drizzle turns on her we gotta reach thems woods and safety
Givvus a second
Two muttwits saunter ‘round the corner at the far end of the street.
Argh, not thems again!
Who?
That skinny muttwit, Fenrir and some right ugly wrencher
Fenrir? Nah, that’s Sparky. Right dreamer is wot that Whippet is
Don’t know, don’t care. Cock a leg and keep up!
Poppet wants to flop down and throw a sulk but, wotz even more important, she don’t want to lose her stud muffin, neither. They hurry through the rainlick, pursued by the two muttwits. After a squirtz or two further on West Pid’s housedens give way to woods and hedgerows.
Keep up Drizzle shoots left into the undergrowth beneath the trees.
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