My Little Blueblood

by Chuckward

Looney Toons.

It's been about two weeks and this thing already knows how to speak basic sentences. I considered getting his voice box cut out, but I'm not a surgeon, and I don't want a team of doctors to know I'm harboring this thing.

I'm sitting in my lounge room, channel surfing on my Jumbo-Tron with Blueblood sitting on the floor, cleaning his hooves, getting his saliva on the cloud carpet. Yeah, that's right. A carpet made out of clouds. If you wanna know how much it cost, it's more than all your family have ever made in their poor lives, but only a week's pay for me.

I'm rich, if you didn't already know. I stop briefly on a children's channel playing some obnoxious cartoon and see if I can stay on it for ten seconds without vomiting. Nope. After throwing away a vomit-filled solid gold bucket, I look up and see Blueblood fully focused and staring at the screen still playing the cartoon, his two dimensional face in awe of this garbage.
His face turns to a pout when I pick up the sapphire-encrusted remote (Worthless, but still damn pretty) and continue on my hunt for a decent show.

"Change it back" His whiny voice hurts my ears.

"No, this show sucks." I continue flipping. Hopefully National Treasure is on tonight. I can show this marshmallow brat true acting.

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"Yes."

"No. I mea-"

"Ha, tricked you." He may be a talking animal, but he still isn't that bright. I feel a sharp pain in my arm and I turn to see the offender, who is none other than Blueblood. That bastard is biting me again! I swing my arm, trying to flick him off, but he just bites down harder.

"Geroff!"

"Mot unbil yew hange et beck!" He mumbles, still biting. His grip loosens as I punch him on the nose. Before he can even start wailing, I grab some diamond-encrusted duct tape, tape his muzzle shut and stuff him inbetween the couch cushions.

"Nicolas, I heard screaming, what's going on?" My maid, Donald Trump walks down the platinum spiral staircase.

"Oh yeah, I'm working on my scream, in case I need to scream in my next movie." I lie, stepping in front of the moving lump in the couch.

"Huh. Well, I gotta go home. See you tomorrow." He says before heading out the door. I pull Blueblood out from between the couch cushions and remove the duct tape from his muzzle. He isn't crying anymore, it's not like I punched him hard anyway(I'm not a monster, well I was, but even then I was the good guy) so it makes sense. Honestly, I'm much more worried about my hand. As I've mentioned before, Blueblood is two-dimensional, so I got a wicked papercut.

I look at the long, thin cut that goes across my fingers. Wow! It goes all the way across now, my little guy is growing up. I don't especially care how big he is though, as it only means I have more problems. Anyway, I'm shooting a movie in six weeks, so I'll have to get Donald and Oprah to watch him.

I look at Blueblood, then at my diamond encrusted, holographic watch. Uh oh, it's 9:30, I suppose I should put him to bed.

"Come on kiddo," I get up,"It's time for bed." I turn to him to see that he's already sound asleep. You know what? He's almost cute when he isn't talking or looking at me. Maybe I can get used to him.

I pick Blueblood up, gently carrying him to his mansion/bedroom. It's dark, and I have to feel my way to his bed. I don't want to turn on the lights, lest I wake him, and suffer the wrath of his screeching. I stub my toe on the platinum cadenza, the pain is overwhelmingly excruciating. Why is it that an enormous gash pales in comparison to a stubbed toe or a muscle cramp as far as pain is concerned? Oh well, at least it isn't as bad as getting kicked in the balls. That's like taking a sledgehammer to the waist.

Reaching his bed, I gently place Blueblood down upon it. He sighs softly in his sleep, shitting a bit as he gets comfortable. I slowly creep out of his room, it's time for me to go to bed as well.

Author's Note:

I'm unsure of which direction I'm going to take this story in.
I'm split between Blueblood and Nicolas learning to get along, and them actually like each other, or just end it with the vivisection of Blueblood, as Cage laughs maniacally. Maybe I'll release two endings.

Once again, props to Sliverfish

Seriously, go watch him.

Comments

[Regidar]

Sliverfish, you glorious bastard.

[MrPancakeMan]

Hmm, I'm starting to think that this guy may be rich. Anyways, I loved the ending, it was funny, the end. Also, I can't wait to see what happens in later life. I doubt he'll like, EVER warm up to him or anything stupid like that right? *Cough* Sarcasm *Cough*

[Sliverfish]

2043333

[Sliverfish]

Chuck, if I can stay focused on this long enough to help write the end, I might have them as mere acquaintances. None of that

shit, like in the original My Little Dashie or the cancerous (Pun slightly intended) My Little Tavi.

[NaughtSought]

I would read both. Maybe just a second story! (Shot by cage)

[Chuckward]

2045911
Actually he's dirt poor.