and the people traveled far and wide just to kiss our hands
Brutus has a performer's heart and for a fraction of a second it frowned inwardly. He was accustomed to eliciting reactions out of others, whether they be good or bad. This missing piece of a girl he had been stalking offered neither, at first, and only gave him an uncertain look. He wanted to sigh and correct her, show her what she was supposed to do when one such as he came prancing up to her. Or perhaps he should roll over. Sometimes a good ol' log roll fixed most confusion up - not by curing the confusion, but by making others realize that they were supposed to be confused.
When she finally began to smile, Brutus's own tail responded by going a mile a minute. Little bombs of colored chalk were going off in his chest alongside his rampant heartbeat, coating his insides with rainbows that turned to very colorful goo. It was such a big feeling, bigger than anything he was used to, and so big that it actually hurt a little. It stretched at things that weren't used to being exercised so much that he could almost feel tiny cracks forming. All his colorful goo would leak out, he was certain.
This was terrible and wonderous at the same time.
When she thanked him, his chest puffed out in pride and he scooted his bottom underneath himself to sit before her, his tail still throwing leaves to and fro. Even in his jubilance, and even after time spent with pack, he still looked like a scrawny and dirty thing. He was angular and crooked, he was matted and torn... and this sudden new North he had found in this girl made him grimmace somewhere in the back of his head, but he was the happiest looking pile of tattered rags around. She would only find verisimilitude in his goofy, toothy grin.
"You should, I don't do this often," he said flippantly, though his focus on her suggested anything other than nonchallance. Besides, he was still a Brutus who liked the chance to casually brag. "Utilize my unmatched hunting skills for the benefit of others, I mean. I'm Brutus, by the way, but you can call me whatever the hell you like... I get 'Fool' and 'Idiot' a lot, so those work. Or 'King of Everything'."
B R U T U SThe Jester of Glorall |