Gramma lived in a brownstone on the quietest, oldest block. So quiet, so old, that the trees on the sidewalk had overgrown their wrought iron cages and formed a thick woods that isolated the block from the rest of the city.
[yadda yadda yadda]
Lying with his back to a tree was a wolf. Holly had never seen a wolf before, though she had read about them. None of the books mentioned they wore silky red vests or wide-legged trousers.
"So I imagine the first thing you’re asking yourself might be, 'Is that handsome fellow a stranger?'" The wolf winked at her but kept his smile close-lipped. Too late, though, for when he spoke, she glimpsed small but sharp teeth.
Holly rolled her eyes. "Everyone talks to strangers these days. Why bother to talk to someone dull? I'll never learn anything that way."
The wolf clapped his hands. He wore kidgloves. One had a stylish S embroidered on the back. The other P. "Too true. I'm all for the new."
"You speak very well for an animal." She wondered if he'd be offended after she spoke.
"Six years of elocution lessons at Ms. Dinde's Finishing School." He rose to his feet. He paced around Holly, while she turned to keep him in her sight. "Oh, but she'd 'Tsk, tsk' over you."
"How can you take so long at a Finishing School? That makes no sense."
"More dollars than sense, my dear departed mother would say." The wolf rested one hand on his furred cheek a moment. "If she were departed." He sighed so deeply that Holly was sure it must be false. "And if I had a mother."
"Everyone has a mother."
The wolf shrugged. "Maybe I'm special." He lifted one edge of the napkin covering Holly's basket. "What have we here?" He sniffed at the bottles. Holly slapped his snout. "I don't think you finished Finishing School at all."
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branchandroot
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Date: 2007-06-09 03:17 am (UTC)[yadda yadda yadda]
Lying with his back to a tree was a wolf. Holly had never seen a wolf before, though she had read about them. None of the books mentioned they wore silky red vests or wide-legged trousers.
"So I imagine the first thing you’re asking yourself might be, 'Is that handsome fellow a stranger?'" The wolf winked at her but kept his smile close-lipped. Too late, though, for when he spoke, she glimpsed small but sharp teeth.
Holly rolled her eyes. "Everyone talks to strangers these days. Why bother to talk to someone dull? I'll never learn anything that way."
The wolf clapped his hands. He wore kidgloves. One had a stylish S embroidered on the back. The other P. "Too true. I'm all for the new."
"You speak very well for an animal." She wondered if he'd be offended after she spoke.
"Six years of elocution lessons at Ms. Dinde's Finishing School." He rose to his feet. He paced around Holly, while she turned to keep him in her sight. "Oh, but she'd 'Tsk, tsk' over you."
"How can you take so long at a Finishing School? That makes no sense."
"More dollars than sense, my dear departed mother would say." The wolf rested one hand on his furred cheek a moment. "If she were departed." He sighed so deeply that Holly was sure it must be false. "And if I had a mother."
"Everyone has a mother."
The wolf shrugged. "Maybe I'm special." He lifted one edge of the napkin covering Holly's basket. "What have we here?" He sniffed at the bottles.
Holly slapped his snout. "I don't think you finished Finishing School at all."