Dan was swimming in the deep, sweet comfortable world of sleep, around him there was complete silence, and the only noise being made was by the pink winds kissing his rose red cheeks. Dan was about to give an appropriate romantic response to the harassment of the winds when suddenly someone made an appearance to slap him awake from his state of respite. Without so much as a warning Gary barged into the room flipping on the large overhead light barely clinging to the surface of the yellow-white ceiling. "Dan! Wake up you sloth! Come on get moving you have to go to work."
A muffled groan escaped from Dan's throat as he buried his face deep into the pillow, rubbing its soft green cover with his little button nose, and making it sticky with the drool leaking from the corners of his lips, "No.. no.. let me sleep, there's no work today, Gary. It's Saturday for Christ sake. The boss doesn't care even if I show up today."
Gary planted himself on the side of the bed, arms crossed, gazed at the human rabbit who refused to come out of his borough, and let out a long exasperated sigh. "Saturday or not. Just like the rest of the lower middle class slaves we've got bills to pay. If you don't go to work today, we don't eat its as simple as that. We've got nothing in the house except water. I'm not joking. You ate everything last night including the last batch of those fiery instant noodles."
Dan rolled over faster than a gold digger, peeking at Gary through one stormy blue eye, "We don't eat if I stay in, but we can eat if I stay in too, right if you just go to work yourself." His tone was teasing, but a hint of sleepy protest lingered beneath his spit of sarcasm.
Gary didn't smile at all. He narrowed his eyes, he leaned closer. Tapped Dan's forehead with his index finger. "No lazy clown. That's not how it works. I work night-shifts idiot which means even if I go to work today, we can only eat the food tomorrow, so get up sloth, get dressed and get to work. Otherwise we starve like the beggars on the streets who have no penchant for acting.
Dan sighed dramatically, sat up, and rubbed his eyes. He swung his legs over the bed, bare feet touched the cold floorboards, bent down and reached under the bed for a crumpled magazine. Dust puffed into the air as he pulled it out from the crevice of doom, flipping over to the horoscope section with exaggerated care, he had a misty look in eyes, he coughed like an ancient old seer about to spit the most important prophecy of his life. "Wait a minute. Listen to this, and I'm sure you'll change your mind."
Gary glanced over at the magazine, eyebrows raised, "Horoscopes? Really? You believe in this low-class fiction written by unsuccessful writers with overactive imagination."
Dan jabbed a finger at the page, eyes wide with mock solemnity while looking at the Libra zodiac sign. "It's serious Gary! I'm not even kidding around. Look it says here in bold font, 'A great disaster will befall you today if you dare to leave your house. Beware of the stray dog that aims for the arse.'
Gary blinked then let out a long groan. "Horoscopes. You're betting our entire dinner, breakfast and lunch on some ridiculous, made-up nonsense? Dan that's utterly ridiculous. A bite on that bubble butt is not nearly as bad as an empty stomach. And even if, and that's big if, you get bitten by that dog I'll personally escort you to the hospital so don't worry, just go and do your damn job."
Dan leaned back against the headboard, clutching the magazine like a shield which protected him from the hideous attacks of the truth. "Better an empty stomach than a bite on the arse. I don't want to limp towards the fridge next morning just to eat stale pieces of bread. This is fate, Gary. I can't ignore it. My gut feeling is screaming that the shape of my arse is in danger."
Gary got up from the side of the bed, he paced the room, muttering to himself, though his loud voice easily reached the ears of his roommate. "Fate, horoscopes, the stars, the planets, the moon and the scream of the destiny call it whatever you want. It doesn't change one thing— we need money, plain and simple. And money comes from work. End of story. Get going before I kick your filthy arse."
Dan smirked faintly, tugging the blanket around his shoulders like a cloak that could cover him from the prying eyes of his roommate. "I've survived the mandatory diets of Mondays, strictly enforced fasts of tuesdays, and reluctant hunger strikes of Wednesdays. Surely I can survive for a day without food, it's the universe who's telling me to not step outside today, and I always listen to its voice, Gary. Not today my friend. Not today, I ain't moving one feet away from this bed."
Gary stopped pacing, Dan's ridiculous words had brought a frown on his forehead, and he gave him a sharp look. "I don't care what the universe has in store for you. Get dressed. Now. I don't want to hear excuses and if you still insist on continuing this farce, you can leave this studio, and know this I'm petty enought to kick you out for this reason."
Dan groaned again tossing the magazine into the nightstand. "You're impossible, you know that. You aren't even giving me a way out of this situation."
"I'm starving, I need food to curb these hunger pangs." Gary said simply, folding his arms. "And if you don't go, how will I able to feed this monster."
Dan swung his legs off the bed and planted his feet on the floor. He flexed them slowly, trying to summon courage that wasn't coming, it had gone on a long vacation. "Fine." He muttered dragging himself towards the pile of clothes littered on the chair. "I'll go. But only because you are threatening me with eviction. I can easily survive for a day or two without food."
Gary smirked, a victorious glint lit up his eyes into a swarm of warm colors. "That's the spirit. Don't worry about a thing. There's a high chance that nothing untoward will happen to your arse. Forget about that dreadful horoscope, and focus on earning those coins."
Dan dusted off his skin savers, he blankly stared at the clothes that had lost their original color, these shirts and pants were already out of style. "Which shirt should I wear, in every one of them I look like a homeless man trying to pass off as a regular citizen." He muttered.
Gary rolled his eyes. "It doesn't matter. Just put on your clothes, any clothes. Pants, shirt, shoes, go like a caveman if you want but just go already. Don't waste my precious time with your words."
Dan finally settled on a faded ebony shirt that was more grey than black, it had survived at least seven accidental coffee spills, four intentional smoothie splashes and one particularly traumatic spaghetti dinner with lots and lots of shallots. He paired it up with torn new jeans, a compromise between casual, fashionable and presentable, and slipped on worn sneakers that were particularly cold. Each motion felt heavier than the last, his lanky arms were on the verge of giving up on him, as if the universe like a magnet was attracting him back towards the warm comfort of the bed
He grabbed the magazine off the bed and tucked it under his arm like a talisman against the disaster that fate had in store for him, "Okay Gary. I'm leaving" He said, stepping towards the doors quietly. "Remember if a dog bites me, I'm not blaming my bad luck, I'm blaming you."
Before leaving he went to the washroom, and came out five minutes later with a smirk on his face. The morning air hit Dan like a hurricane as he stepped outside, crisp, cold and slightly chilly winds slapped his cheeks. He shivered like a kitten sleeping in a box, and tried to ignore the gnawing feeling in his gut that something was about to go wrong— the unease that came with the prophecies written in the horoscopes was hurting the insides of his paunch. The street was quiet like a scared bride sitting silently in the bridal chamber. A few cars passed by quietly, engines purring wistfully, there was no sign of a disaster yet as he hadn't even spotted a single stray mangy mutt. Dan told himself that he was being paranoid. He took a deep breath, released it almost immediately letting go of all his worries with the bad winds.
He walked slowly down the sidewalk, each step echoing rhythmically in his mind. "Nothing's happening, it was all lie. I was worried about nothing." He muttered. "Indeed the universe is merciful.. quite kind to good people."
From behind a nearby fence, a dog's bark shattered the calm. Dan froze like an icicle, his every nerve froze due to sheer terror. The sound was sharp, urgent, and carried a certain malice that well proved that the canine aggressor was quite angry at the human being. Dan ignored the most legitimate advice given in every movie, he ignored the life saving suggestions of his mind, and he turned around to look at the growling beast. His stomach dropped as he spotted the scruffy figure, tail stiff, eyes locked at him as if the dog was staring at his mortal enemy who had harmed his parents by eating their cooked remains at dinner.
Dan's heart raced faster than a Ferrari. "Shit," he whispered, recognizing the exact scene that was described in the magazine. "I'm about to pay heavy consequences for ignoring the message of the universe." The dog crouched, its haunches ready for the leap, and Dan took a hesistant step back, turned around like a footballer does after a nutmeg—but it was too late for the most effective strategy.
With terrifying precision like a guided stinger missile, the dog lunged, pale yellow teeth aimed squarely at Dan's rear. There was a loud clang! Not the scream of pain that fate had promised but something else entirely— a clash between metallic ring of iron and enamel.
The dog yelped and stumbled backward, tucking its tail between its legs, teeth aching from a hard knock. Dan froze mid-step, hands instinctively clutching his backside, his face contorted not from pure agony, but from confusion. He was fine that damn dog's teeth had done no damage to his posterior. How was that possible? Had his butt finally become a flesh of steel.
"What the hell was that?" He muttered. Twisting to look, then realization dawned— slowly but surely he realized what was going on.
Just minutes before leaving the house, he had stopped by the washroom. The ancient towel rack had snapped last week, and Dan, too lazy to fix it properly had wedged an old-cast frying pan between the wall and the sink to hold his towel. When Gary started yelling from outside to hurry up, in a state of panic Dan had grabbed the towel— and somehow left the frying pan dangling from the waistband of his jeans.
He was unaware, he hadn't even noticed, it still stuck there under his shirt like a silent protector.
Suprisingly the forgotton relic of his lazy home repair had become a divine shield that protected his posterior from the demons.
The dog whimpered, retreating across the road, it gazed at the lunatic who had stuffed thick iron to protect his hindquarters, meanwhile Dan also gave the dog a final look sighing in relief that its prophecy fulfilling mission had been foiled by a cookware. After processing what had happened he stood there for a moment, then started laughing— a wild incredulous, mirthful laugh that echoed down the street.
From behind him came Gary's voice, alarmed. "Dan? What happened? I heard something crash?"
Dan turned around still laughing like a maniac, eyes wet from the sheer absurdity of the situation. "Gary you're not gonna believe this, for minutes I was the luckiest man on earth."
Gary stepped out of the doorway, brows furrowed, "What are you talking about? I don't understand a thing."
Dan pointed to his posterior, the faint outline of the frying pan visible beneath his jeans. "Fate was after my butt. It smashed its face into iron and promptly shut up."
Gary stared, dumbfounded by his roomie's ridiculous luck. "You went to work with a frying pan in your arse."
Dan gave a crooked predatory grin. "I guess I was so nervous that I didn't notice that something had stuck in the jean's waistband. But hey, I guess it was all for the best— look I'm still bite free."
Gary broke into laughter, clutching the sides of his stomach. "You're a lucky idiot Dan. Only you can turn such a violent situation into slapstick."
Dan winked, straightened his shirt with exaggerated pride. "Maybe. The stars might not always be on my side but my dumb fortune always perseveres.