Ebooks   ➡  Fiction  ➡  Historical  ➡  African American fiction  ➡  Urban life  ➡  USA

Swift Knows Best

Swift Knows All

Copyight © 2016 by Mixy Boothroyd

Panda Nation™

All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any

form or by any electronic or mechanical means – except in the case of

brief quotations embodied in articles or reviews – without written

permission from its publisher.

[email protected]

Wendy “Scales” Lucier

“What’s the passcode?” I rather comically inquired from the other side

of the now refurbished steel door of our Stone Cloud clubhouse as I gave

my usual two loud and clear knocks and grinned smugly before Donna

gave her response in an equally hilarious British queen style accent.

“Peace, my brethren.” The tumblers of the lock clicked and squeaked

slightly in rotation before the door creaked open and Donna breathed a

long, hissing sigh of relief as she kicked off her sandals. “Well, sure took

you two bongos nearly long enough. What you do? Get put in cold

storage?” “Ha! Very funny, constrictor.” She scoffed, sardonically. “You

know good old Mixy and I were out spending some quality time with her

good old granny in the recovery ward.” “How’s old mama bear doin’?” I

asked, perked up by the joyous news. “Wonderful.” Mixy replied,

gratefully. “She’s a whole lot more talkative now and they finally

managed to fully get all those nasty tubes and wires out and away from

her for good now that’s completely out of the woods of surgery.” “Mani

fique.” I concluded gleefully. “Hopefully the very day she gets home, I

can surprise her by whipping up a nice big plate of one of those I hop

style omelets and chicken nugget tenders she trained me how to make as

a snakeling.” “Yes indeed, my scaly niggarino.” Donna agreed with a

jovial slap of my shoulder. “Gonna go shower up now and enjoy my

usual cheetah snooze along with a strawberry donut or two. See ya on

the flip side, my goonies.” “Roger that.” I called back, joining the rest of

the crew in the living room for the big Nats summer playoff game.

“We’ll keep the bench warm for ya.” I heard her retort with a sarcastic

“shut up!” before I planted a seat next to my two good goddesses,

Sekhmet and Penny and immediately got to shooting the bullshit with

the both of them at the slew of die-hard hilarious commercials before

and during the game; while snacking contently on my favorite snack of

fresh wharf rats as the fist of yet another hand sounded on the frame of

the door outside. Jenni suddenly scrambled briskly to her feet and her

round half oval shaped ears splayed back defensively in her

frighteningly aggressive spotted hyena protective stance. “I smell a rat.”

She uttered gruffly in a low growl. “And it’s not at all the savory ones

that you’re chowing down on, Wendy.” “I do too.” Frost agreed, flexing

her scythe sharp polar bear claws as she and Jenni venomously stalked

toward the door as I, her father, and all the rest of us all stared on with a

slight sinking feeling of apprehension bubbling up in my stomach. The

door opened by Jenni’s hand and I heard her masculine yet still

obviously feminine female voice inquire as calmly and genuinely as she

could in her non pissed off way, “Can we help you, Mr. Linton?”

Swift Knows Best

  • ISBN: 9781370213917
  • Author: Mixy Boothroyd
  • Published: 2016-08-02 06:20:06
  • Words: 557
Swift Knows Best Swift Knows Best