Davo

by N.R. Walker

And then he let rip. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.” I gave him my sternest look and held up my finger. “No. Stop that. You will not speak to me that way.” He squawked some more, then proceeded to screech at the top of his huge bird lungs. “Stop that now!” I yelled at him. “Or I will put you in the fridge.” He stopped. Oh my god. That actually worked. I would never actually put him in the fridge, and I had no idea where those words even came from. But it worked. “Good boy,” I said quietly. “Quiet boys don’t go in the fridge.” I sounded like Hannibal freaking Lecter.

I snatched up the apple and cut it into slices. He was very happy with this development, bouncing and whistling as he watched. “You like apple?” I asked. “Good boy. Quiet boys are good boys. Quiet boys get apple.” And now I sounded like a creepy sex offender. This was all so wrong. “Just please be quiet,” I said, handing him his first piece of apple. He was quiet while he ate. This was good. I opened my laptop, and he was still quiet. Well, he made a happy, bouncy song as he ate his apple. And I hated to admit that he was kinda cute.

I sighed, defeated. “Is nothing private here?” Davo gave me an apologetic shrug, but his smile told me he was far from sorry. Then, just when I thought it couldn’t get any more embarrassing, Junie added, “Don’t have any of that lube though.” I almost died. “Oh my god.” “Got some Mobil engine lubrication in the workshop if you need it,” Bill joked as he walked out from the back. He’d clearly heard the whole conversation. Sweet mother of god. “Don’t be silly,” Junie said, shaking her head. Davo snorted. “We’re not Transformers, Bill.”