Walkies!
Today was Chore Day at the siblings' house. Tasks like "clean the kitchen" and "water every flower in the garden" were a breeze for the five, but there was still one thing they wanted to take care of, though it wasn't on the list.
"Porter, would you take Seal out for a walk?" Bro requested.
Porter agreed, and walked up to the small plush seal, who was sleeping on the piano.
"Seal, wake up! We're going out for some walkies!" he announced, poking the seal. This resulted in Seal ignoring him, curling into a ball and rolling off the piano and into the laundry room.
As Porter followed him in, he lost track of him, despite the room being as orderly as a laundry room could be.
"Seal, come out," he ordered. "We're doing some walkies."
That's when he thought he noticed some movement in the laundry basket. Sneaking over, he quickly emptied it out and started sifting through the clothes, catching Amelia's attention.
"Porter! What are you doing?" she exclaimed, pulling him away.
"I'm trying to find Seal!" he replied. "I was asked to take him out for a walk. I have a feeling he snuck into the basket."
"Well, since you're here, would you mind carrying the basket to the boys' room?" Amelia requested, stuffing the basket with the clothes that were emptied. "These are all the boys' clothes."
Porter complied, even going as far as to sort out the boys' clothes and put them in the dresser in hopes of finding Seal. Even after doing that, there was no sign of him.
"Nothing..." he muttered to himself. "He must still be in the laundry room."
As he left the bedroom calling Seal's name, one of the dresser shelves slid open, and out popped Seal. He had taken the shape of a shirt as a disguise.
After safely reaching the floor, he flopped towards the living room and ran into Bro, who picked him up.
"Porter, I have Seal with me," he said. "Just grab the harness so you can take him out for a walk."
Seal, alarmed, leapt out of his hand and dove between the couch cushions as Porter stepped into the room, tiny harness in hand.
"I thought you said you had him," Porter pointed out.
Bro didn't say anything, pointing at the couch instead. With a nod, they crept in front of the couch and pulled the cushions out, but didn't find him.
"My seal's a slick one, isn't he?" Bro snickered. "Fortunately for you, I know all of his little tricks."
After saying that, he glanced over to exactly where Seal was– clutching a corner of the cushion Bro was holding. In a swift motion, he created a ball around the seal and trapped him inside.
"Also, are you sure you can keep him from misbehaving on your walk?" he asked, holding the ball. "I can walk him myself if you're not up for it."
As he was speaking, Seal rolled out of Bro's hand and fell directly onto his foot, making him yell as he rolled away.
"I thought you said you knew all of his tricks!" Porter said.
"That wasn't a trick, that was just rude!" Bro shouted.
The two chased Seal outside, where unfortunately, the ball he was trapped in faded away, freeing him. He unraveled himself into a square piece of cloth and began fluttering up over the house.
"Did Seal do this to you often?" Porter asked.
"Only when it was bath time," Bro answered. "I wonder why he doesn't want to walk..."
As for Seal, he landed on the front porch, when another seal with a red bow on its head was seemingly waiting for someone.
"Sister!" Seal exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"
"Taking a vacation," Seamore answered. "What's going on? Were you flying over the house?"
"Long story," he sighed. "It's Chore Day, and my owners want to take me out for a walk."
"What's wrong with that?" she asked.
"Everything!" Seal exclaimed. "I want to nap! Can't they do this another day?"
"You always did love your naps," she chuckled. "Before I got this bow, that was the only way they could tell us apart..."
"Tell us apart..." Seal repeated, eyeing his sister's bow. That's when he got an idea.
"Give me your bow."
"What?"
"Just give me your bow," he ordered. "Please."
Confused, Seamore gave him her bow, then watched as he hopped into a nearby bush. At the same time, the front door opened, and Bro and Porter were standing just behind it.
"There he is," Bro said. "I had a feeling he wouldn't go too far."
"Alright, Seal," Porter said, putting the seal into the harness, "you've had your fun, but now it's time for some walkies."
This only resulted in a confused bark from the seal.
"Relax, it's just like any other walk. And after that, I'll give you some treats," he added.
Upon hearing about treats, the seal complied and flopped down the stairs, tugging Porter along while Bro followed.
"Hey Porter, you have a feeling something's off?" Bro asked. "I've never seen Seal so excited about treats before."
"Maybe he smelled the new type of treat I got for him this time," Porter reasoned. "He always did love the treats I gave him."
Meanwhile, the real Seal poked his head out of the bushes, watching the three walk down the driveway.
"Thanks, sis! I owe you one!" Seal said, waving at her.
A Closer Shave
Zaire was on his way to the barber. People who were in his path either turned and walked the other way or quickly passed by him. Some even went as far as to cross the street to avoid him.
"Some things never change," he sighed. "And those types of things should."
Soon enough, he reached his destination and stepped inside the barbershop, Brush 'n Comb, where there were two others waiting their turn. One of them had their face obscured by a newspaper.
"Miles! Tyson! Long time no see!" he greeted before nodding at the ones waiting. "Gentlemen."
While one nodded in greeting, the one holding the newspaper let out a small grunt in response.
"Zaire! It's so good to see you!" Tyson said as he was trimming someone else's hair. "Came to take advantage of that deal I offered a while back?"
"I'd be lying if I said I didn't," Zaire replied, handing Tyson a black bowler. "Here's your hat back, by the way."
"You might need to wait a while," Miles said as he swept the floor. "Not just because we're short-staffed today, but also because those guys were waiting longer."
"He can go before me," the person behind the newspaper said. "I'm in no rush."
Everyone stared at them for a brief moment until Tyson spoke up. "Very well. I'll finish up this trim, take a rest, and then I'll get started on your hair, Zaire."
Fifteen minutes later, everything was ready, and Zaire was in the chair getting his hair cut.
"Thanks for letting me take your place, sir," Zaire said. "After this, could I help you out somehow?"
"You don't need to help me with anything... pal." The person put down their newspaper and revealed themselves to be Umbrish. It took everything Zaire had not to say his name out loud. He couldn't even ask what he was doing here.
"If you say so..." he coughed, trying to focus back on the haircut. "So Tyson, has Miles gotten any better with cutting hair since last time?"
"No, I've assigned him on cleaning duty after a number of... incidents," Tyson admitted.
"It wasn't always my fault!" Miles protested. "In most cases, the razor would stop working the moment I tried to use it!"
Tyson sighed. "You've still got a lot of learning to do."
"There's no better time to learn than in your youth," Umbrish added.
By now, Tyson had finished Zaire's haircut, and despite getting it for free, Zaire paid him anyway.
"But your haircut was free," Tyson reminded him.
"Keep it," Zaire whispered as he saw Umbrish approaching before striding past him and out the door. He casually walked past the window and burst into a full-on sprint when he was out of view.
"Too close..." he huffed, running straight home.
Back at the barber, Umbrish was getting set up for his haircut.
"He sure seemed shocked to see you," Tyson said.
"We've crossed paths a number of times," Umbrish replied. "Though I will admit seeing each other here surprised me just as much as him."
"Why be surprised? With what you said, maybe you guys could be friends!" Miles reasoned.
"Yeah..." Umbrish muttered.
After paying the barber and leaving the shop, he looked in the direction Zaire went before going his way. He stopped at a secluded beach, where Ixin and some Clones were waiting for him on a rowboat.
"How'd it go?" Ixin asked.
"It went well," Umbrish answered. "Aside from a few stares on the way, everyone was quite civil, unlike the Clones on Kleptopolis, who judge me for my eyepatch–"
"And your aim," one Clone added. "Your aim is terrible."
"Quiet."
As the Clones began rowing back home, Umbrish had something else to say.
"By the way, you'll never guess who I ran into..."