[Throughout the day, hell-of-a-con/hell-of-a-hick and myself will be posting drabbles describing the Labor Day celebrations of Keith, Ellis, Nick, and Overalls.]
“Ma, I got it,” Keith said in annoyance the fifth time his mother corrected his technique, their banter barely noticed by Ellis and Chris as they played keep away with the dog’s bone, Riggs yapping wildly as he loped across the yard in pursuit of his beloved chew toy.
Chris tripped and toppled across the grass, fingers barely fumbling the bone as he fell, still managing to toss it back before Riggs could pounce him and steal it. The dog bellowed a series of sharp barks and took off back across the grass.
“Chris, get up, yer stainin’ yer clothes,” Abby chastised, tagging her older son with, “That’s too much seasonin’, Keith.”
Ellis gave the future vet a hand up, laughing beltingly as Riggs bounced and pawed between them, nearly throwing them both over in his frantic attempts to bite up his bone. “Sorry, Abby,” he apologized, smacking some of the dirt from Chris’s shirt, “Ah shudn’t be throwin’ so rough.”
“Yer not th’one who went rollin’ in th’grass,” Abby said loudly with an arched eyebrow.
“Naw, Ah got it!” Ellis announced as he spat in a napkin. “Hold still,” he added, snagging the front of Chris’s shirt in an attempt to wipe away the wide streak of a grass stain from his side.
Chris immediately began to wriggle away, objecting with smacked hands at El’s wadded napkin, and Abby gave her older son a long look with slanted brows.