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still not believing it came to this - Diary of a Necromancer
Excuse me, I'm making perfect sense, you're just not keeping up
still not believing it came to this
*ahem* And this is part two of the "oh dear god Muse did go there" sequence, even if it did get held back for a rewrite at the last minute because I had to put my foot down about some of the more Unfortunate Implications... I'll be in my trailer.


It seems a good idea to consult with some experts on medical questions in the were, just to be safe. I'm left to tread the line between moral-support and privacy outside the door of David's surgery, waiting for my flatmate to conclude his business. Though I'm not prepared for the sight when he emerges: "Before you say it, it was my idea," Jason says, running a hand over his shorn scalp.

I suppose it's not as if his hair doesn't grow absurdly fast, but it still takes me a moment to recover myself. "You do look like your brother," I say.

Jason pulls his hat back over his naked head, where it droops round his ears like a mangled souffle. "Thanks for not using the words 'fleabitten skank'." (That was psychosomatic, David interjects from the doorway behind him.) "-- I guess I shouldn't go there anyway, it's not like either of us exactly came out of that covered in glory."

We have to go to several chemists', not so much because David's prescriptions are particularly obscure as that Jason doesn't want one single clerk being able to piece together the story. He waxes philosophical as we wait in the supermarket, pretending to be studying the locked case of contraceptives. "It's like beer-goggles, kind of. All you're really thinking is 'dude, she wants me to do her'. And it seems like a good idea, is the hell of it."

I suppose that the coyote must have been thinking much the same thing, to have approached a wolf Jason's size. And after all she wasn't to know he was that far off being roughly the proper shape for a quick bit of fun. I picture the pack getting together for the equivalent of a morning-after moan about where they'd left their knickers. "There's a moral about being careful whom you pull in this somewhere," I say.

He reaches up to push his hat-brim out of his eyes. "Don't tell me you've never woken up next to somebody you wanted to chew your arm off to get away from."

I'm not sure whether he's thinking of it from his own side of things or the coyote's.


2 responses | moved to respond?
ashnistrike From: ashnistrike Date: March 7th, 2013 03:30 pm (UTC) (permalink this entry)
Interesting ... so I'm guessing flea concerns (canines don't get headlice) plus maybe ringworm - the intestinal parisites that an urban coyote carries around probably wouldn't be transmitted that way. I think the only STD you'd need to worry about would be brucellosis. I suspect that shaving his head is an overreaction (although an understandable one) - dog fleas can't breed on a human, a good round of flea-and-tick shampoo should have done the trick. (On second thought, dreads do complicate matters ... hmm ...)

robling_t From: robling_t Date: March 8th, 2013 08:16 am (UTC) (permalink this entry)
(On second thought, dreads do complicate matters ... hmm ...)

Aaaand welcome to why this bit wasn't actually part of the last bit -- it went through quite a few last-minute revisions of "...no, that'd be different Unfortunate Implications RE stereotypes about race/dreadlocks", and I can only cross my fingers that it's coming across as being about Jason's own issues with that cultural baggage. (IE, "even if I didn't pick up fleas, is everyone going to think...", etc) Hoping to explore that thread further as other members of his family consider their own reactions to his decisions...
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