Page 16 of Their Pup to Tame

“Damn, folks must have hated that character.”

“No bull. I wish I remembered which it was. I’d love to look it up and read the story now.”

“So, look it up,” I suggested. “Just put in what you told me and see what pops up. There can’t be that many…or maybe there are and it was a popular thing in comics, in which case, I don’t know what to tell ya, but I’ve read a lot of comics, and I’ve never heard of that before.”

“Good idea,” he said, tapping away on his phone.

He paused when Parker returned, hit play on the movie, and finished entering his question.

“Ohh, that makes sense. They were both huge Batman fans too. It was Jason Todd in the Death in the Family arc,” Aspen declared a short time later.

“I have that in graphic novel format,” Parker declared. “I didn’t know the readers voted on the outcome, though. I prefer him as Red Hood anyway. I never liked any of the Robins besides Grayson.”

“Not even Damien?”

“Bleh, Damien is yet another bat that didn’t need to exist,” Parker declared. “And I hate the way he’s drawn to take more after Nightwing than Bruce, but that is a whole separate issue. There is literally nothing to like about that character or where they went with the storyline leading up to his creation.”

“Note to self: do not get him talking about comic books if we want to hear the intro to the movie,” Aspen declared, winding it back.

Parker blew him a kiss, then settled in with his notebook, while I clutched a pillow to my chest, head resting on a second one. At home, I had a large stuffed Rottweiler I curled up with when I was watching TV, a gift from Raleigh and Murry. I’d left it in my room so Aspen wouldn’t look at me funny for snuggling with it.

It didn’t fit who most people saw me as.

Hell, it didn’t fit with the image I’d cultivated to effectively help me do my job.

But it fit who I was when I was away from all that, like now, as I settled in to watch yet another movie I’d never seen before.

“What if they haven’t invaded because we’re in a huge no-fly zone?” I mused. “Like, to be avoided at all costs. A planet full of toxic waste and more-toxic idiots. Visit at your own risk.”

This time he paused, since getting through the intro of the movie already seemed like it was going to be an issue for us.

“How would they know not to come here if they hadn’t already come here?” Aspen responded.

“Point. Maybe the whole Roswell thing was how we got on the no-fly list in the first place,” I replied. “Those poor aliens were probably on vacation or some shit, and we shot them down.”

“I feel like I’m missing something,” Parker said. “But please continue, because this is amusing.”

“Well, if this is a giant television production, I’d like to have a chat with the casting director about switching roles,” I grumbled.

“Really?” Aspen asked. “And which part would you ask to play?”

I lifted my shoulder and let it fall, because I didn’t have a clue. It was one thing to believe that I could change my fate if I tried hard enough, and an entirely different thing to envision a future beyond the only lifestyle I knew.

“I find it hard to believe that nothing comes to mind,” Parker insisted. “Not even something drab and mundane?”

“Sad, isn’t it?” I replied. “I was a dancer before I was a bouncer, and before that I cleaned up after hours and stocked the bar, since I wasn’t legal to be in the place when it was open. My momwas a dancer there; hell, my grandmother was queen of the stage before she bought the place. I’ve never worked anywhere else, never explored another field. I always figured on going from bouncer to bartender when a slot came open.”

“At the very least, now might be the time to start looking at other possibilities,” Aspen pointed out. “If you’re at the point of wishing you could be recast in a different life.”

“True, but there are also those pesky things called bills that are due each month,” I pointed out. “And rent, which I don’t have to pay now since me and my cousins living above the place means round-the-clock security.”

“So basically, your whole life is tied to that strip club,” Aspen surmised.

“Pretty much.”

“How long ago did you stop dancing?” Parker asked.

“It’s been almost four years” I replied, fingers trailing absently along the scars that had ended my time on the pole. “I prefer getting to toss fuckers out over stripping for them.”