The Setup
The sun
shone through a somewhat dirty window, the beams of light slowly
creeping across the gray carpet until they stopped at the side of a
bed. Undaunted by this obstacle, the beams traveled up the side
and straight into the face of Robert Riley as he lay on his back,
sleeping. The immediate effect of this was for his eyes to shut
tighter, but soon he was slowly dragged into consciousness. Riley
sat up before he was truly aware of his surroundings, and blinked
blearily before looking around to take stock of them.
Directly
ahead of him was a desk upon which perched a rather nice-looking
computer monitor. The computer itself was situated on the floor,
with the cables and such running up behind the desk and to the various
peripherals. Riley let his gaze wander to the next corner, where
he was greeted with the sight of a small kitchen area. Further
tilting of his head revealed a television, a decrepit Nintendo
Entertainment System, a couch, and a door, most likely leading to the
bathroom. At least, that was Riley's hope, as the only other door
appeared to be an elevator. He shuffled towards the door, and was
relieved to find that it was indeed the bathroom. After making
use of the facility, he walked back towards the bed he awoke in, and
noticed two things. The first thing was a locked chest at the
foot of the bed, and the second was a small, Scottish terrier sleeping
on top of it.
It was at
this point that Riley realized that he was, in fact, at his apartment,
and not some random girl's flat, which he considered to be an
interesting alternative. With a sigh at the overwhelming normalcy
of his morning routine, he immediately set about the task of finding
clothes to put on for the day. Rooting about on the floor, he
found a pair of khaki shorts that didn't have any noticeable stains,
and was lucky enough to find a black shirt that had an odd sketch of a
roach in a baseball cap. Slipping into his find, he next located
his sandals before poking the sleeping dog in the stomach.
"C'mon
Scotty, time for breakfast." The dog awoke, yawned, and cocked
his head at Riley. "Yeah, you heard me. Breakfast," Riley
said. The dog perked up, and hopped off its perch and headed
toward the kitchen area. Riley followed the dog, and opened a
cupboard that overhung the sink. Retrieving a box of cereal, he
then fetched two bowls from another cabinet. Filling the two
bowls, he placed one on the table and the other on the floor next to
his chair. He went to the refrigerator and opened it, hoping to
find some milk. Unfortunately, there wasn't any milk to be found;
just a case of beer.
"Crap." Riley looked from the fridge to his cereal and then
back again. With a philosophic shrug, he retrieved a can of beer
and poured it over his cereal. After tossing the can in the
garbage and getting a spoon, he sat down to his breakfast. Scotty
was busy with his own cereal, and he didn't seem to mind the lack of
milk at all. "Guess we'll have to go shopping," Riley remarked,
before realizing that he was once again talking to the dog.
After
breakfast, Riley picked up a satchel and beckoned to Scotty. "Hop
in." The dog obediently nestled himself inside of the satchel,
and Riley stepped into the elevator, making his way out of the
apartment complex. Reaching the ground floor, he exited, dog in
bag, and headed for the grocery store.
*********
A
scruffy-looking blond stood outside the store, leaning against a
newspaper dispenser. Riley spotted him and walked towards him,
shaking his head. "Damn, General, you look like you just got out
of bed, you scruffy looking slob," he said, trying to stifle a chuckle.
The blond
shot Riley a sideways look. "Who's scruffy looking?" He
grinned. "What brings you here, Riley?"
"What do
you think, Josh? I'm out of milk again." Riley
shrugged. "Had to resort to plan B for breakfast."
"Beer and
cereal, right?" Josh Grant (hence, General Grant) asked with a
knowing smile. "Where would we be without plan B?"
"I'd have
an extra beer and keep better track of my milk supply," Riley
replied. "And Scotty wouldn't have to eat his cereal dry."
He patted the satchel, and a damp nose poked out of the zipper.
"Wurf,"
Scotty muttered.
Josh raised
an eyebrow at Riley. "You're not planning on taking him in there
with you again, are you? You remember what happened the last
time..."
"Yeah,"
Riley interrupted, "but this time he's in the satchel. I just
need his help picking out the groceries. He's more help than
those stock boys, that's for sure."
Grant
rolled his eyes. "Did I ever tell you that you need serious help?"
"That's
what Scotty's for," replied Robert, walking into the store.
*********
The store
was rather small, a sort of mom-and-pop setup run by a Russian
immigrant named Josef Stalyne. Robert tried to avoid Josef as a
rule, as the two often had disagreements over the fact that Riley was
constantly sneaking his dog into the store. In any case, the
prices were cheap (especially the beer and milk, two liquids which
Riley practically lived on), and Riley hadn't held up the store or
shoplifted, so the two got along, sort of. Getting groceries,
therefore, was an odd mix of battle-plan and diplomacy that--strangely
enough--Riley enjoyed to a certain extent.
He walked
skillfully through the store, avoiding Stalyne's gaze all the
while. When he was certain that he wasn't being watched, he
allowed Scotty to inspect the merchandise, and thus bought food solely
on the advice of his dog. Checking out without incident, he left
the store to find Grant still standing outside.
"Impressive. I never would have thought of rolling a can of
fruit down the aisle to distract him from Scotty trying to mate with
the chicken fingers," Josh remarked as Riley walked by.
Riley
grinned. "Learn from the master, General Grant. Attrition
is an effective tactic." He paused, thinking, then shook his
head. "Ah forget it, nobody's gonna get that joke."
"I got it,
but that's because you've been using it for years," Josh noted.
"Yeah,
yeah, I know. I've also explained it to you time and time again,"
Robert replied. "In any case, I need to walk Scotty on the
roof. Later, General." He shouldered his bag and walked
back to his apartment.
*This brings the end of this particular
tale, which is most likely lacking in artistic merit. However, it
does serve the purpose intended by its author, that is, being a
setup. Next time, there'll be a bit more to it. Honest.*