He’s uh real’ good dog s’long as yuh keep’im busy.

Riggs’s got more toys than mah lil’ bros do now. Cus Ah git ‘im uh couple thangs erry time Ah go tuh th’grocery store cus they got like uh whole aisle fer pets, an’ we take trips up tuh th’pet store since they le’chuh bring yer dogs in. He still ain’t too good at fetch, cus he’ll bring th’ball back, but he ain’t gonnuh let yew take it ‘less yuh snag it while he’s jumpin’ away from yuh. He’s real’ good with tug toys like them braided ropes, an’ he’ll git right up in Keith’s lap with one if he wants Keith tuh yank awn it. *Smiles, scuffing his heel on the floor* He likes th’lil’ treat balls yuh can git stuffed with snacks thah he’s gottuh break open ‘er wiggle ‘round ‘til th’food falls out, cus it gives ‘im summin tuh do. 

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“Holiday Insights”

Be Late For Something Day is a great day to be a procrastinator. If you are among the millions of us who never seem to be able to stay on schedule, then you will certainly enjoy today.

“Oh, lord,” Ellis groaned throatily, still perched in Keith’s lap as they both drifted back down to earth and the sweat and heavy breathing that they sported there, his body swaying briefly before he managed to untangle himself from the cobwebs of pleasure and ease over onto his side beside his lover. “Best way tuh wake up,” he cooed comfortably, rolling onto his stomach and stretching in an arch like a cat, ass damp with a trickle of cum.

“Or go back tuh sleep fer uh bit,” mumbled Keith, his baby blues half-lidded as he opened an arm in invitation; when Ellis obediently snuggled into his embrace, Keith kicked the blanket back up around them. Too much warmth from their mutually exhausted bodies toasted away what little wakefulness he’d acquired, and he was asleep again in minutes.

Ellis – his cheek pillowed on Keith’s chest, stubble scratching the slightest prickle of chest hair – smiled to himself, whispering in a rasp, “In th’spirit uh th’day, sh’ore thang.”

They slept until Dave’s ringtone jarred them awake both fifty minutes later. 

“Holiday Insights”

Newspaper Carrier Day recognizes the importance of newspaper carriers in getting the newspaper each day into the hands of millions of readers. This day honors carriers all over the world, as they deliver the paper diligently in all kinds of weather conditions.

“It’s Newspaper Carrier Day,” Ellis said over breakfast, shoveling pancakes in his mouth with whipped cream lingering on his thick lips thereafter; he licked at it to no avail. “That dude is uh asshole.”

“He is,” Keith agreed with a snort, turning the page of said delivered paper. “Is that why yew didn’t wish’im uh happy day?” he asked with a twitching smirk.

“Man, Ah’d sooner take uh leak awn his car,” Ellis snorted, thieving the community announcements page to coo over people he didn’t know. “Hand me th’opinion page when yer done, mah ‘scopes’re awn th’backside.”  

[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.]

“There y’all are,” blurted Ellis the moment he open the door for his best friend, forgoing a hug to instead grab Nick’s arm and haul him towards the kitchen, foisting an armload of foil-topped dishes into the conman’s embrace. “Help me take this shit outside.”

Nick chuckled, allowing Ellis to percautiously balance additional fool on the already ample stack; his side was a roar of flames but he said nothing of it. “I told you I’d come early if you needed help.”

“Ah don’t need help,” Ellis insisted, topping the tower with a bowl of grape tomatoes in direct contradiction to his statement, “Now bring them thangs out so folks don’t starve.”

Nick poorly hid his smirk as he turned to shuffle through the dining room, intercepted by the tiny arms of Arden being flung around his legs. “Daddy!” he whispered desperately, pawing at his shirt, “Mommy said yew were here.”

Pain seared hot and tight up his side, crackling out into the softest of agonized exhales as Nick eased away from the boy’s grabbing fingers. “Easy there, champ,” he muttered tightly, trying to smile, “Daddy doesn’t feel so good.”

“Get goin’!” Ellis called from the kitchen, “Ah got two more trips fer yew!” 

[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.]

Sarah showed up just after two, toting her three year old sons and the handsome, broad-shouldered sheriff she was dating; the twins were dressed in blue, Maybel’s tight blonde curls tucked up from his face with barrettes Ellis aggressively disliked him wearing. “Oh, stop,” Sarah dismissed, kissing her eldest son’s cheek and opening her arms for Keith, “He’s three, he can wear whatever th’hell he damn well pleases – Abby, hi,” she said loudly, sliding an arm around the other woman’s shoulders. “Nice tuh finally see yew.”

Maybel was deposited in Keith’s arms, the lanky redhead holding him on his hip as he moved back to the table for a snack; the child chattered away until abruptly going silent upon seeing Christopher wrestling with Riggs, his face tucking into Keith’s shoulder in a random display of shyness. “Issat yer brov’ur?” he whispered loudly.

“Mhm,” Keith hummed around a mouthful of chips, swallowing down the swell of food in his cheek and grinning as he tickled the side of May’s neck. “No reason tuh be shy.”

“Ain’t it nice tuh see yew,” Ellis said blandly to the sheriff; Brad opened his mouth to reply and Ellis immediately strode into the house for more food. 

[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. 

[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.]

Ellis hugged both Keith’s mother and his little brother the moment he answered the door, thumping the latter on the back briefly – apparently not yet forgiving of the time Chris had chosen his own friends over Ellis and Keith for companionship at Whispering Oaks. They were getting slightly more at ease with his frequently given embraces and Abby even smiled, offering a hello as Ellis moved aside to let them into the entrance hall.

The survivor led the way through the house and into the back yard, where Keith lifted his tongs in greeting and Riggs dove at Chris’s legs with a delighted flurry of yapping and bouncing. “He likes yew,” Ellis said thoughtfully, a slow grin forming as the slight edge he’d had towards the teenager dwindled, “Yer gonnuh make uh damn good vet if yew charm awl uh yer animals s’easy.”

Chris laughed and plucked the misplaced bone from the grass - ignoring Keith’s “he don’t play fetch” - and giving it a toss across the yard. Riggs took off at a loping run, scooping it up in his bared teeth and bringing it back immediately. “Guess I got wut Keith didn’t,” he snickered, snagging the bone and throwing it again.

“Hey,” objected the redhead at the grill, “Riggs worships th’ground I walk awn. He’s jus’ playin’ yew fer treats.” 

[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.]

Ellis had pleaded for an outdoor set and thus one stood in Keith’s back yard, the table now sprawled with cold dishes wrapped in tinfoil and plates and cutlery posed for impending guests. The redhead took the dog out into the fenced grass, wisely working out some of the pup’s energy with a game of fetch that was more Riggs running back and forth and refusing to return the bone than anything else. Ellis brought out two stabs of ribs and all the sauces and seasoning Keith had suggested, and the older male jogged back over to relieve him of the burden and start grilling.

“How’s yer back?” Keith asked lightly as he doused the charcoal with a somewhat excessive amount of gasoline, “Still sore?”

“Not s’bad tuhday,” Ellis confessed amicably, taking a slow sip of beer that he’d snagged from the cooler. The humidity was steadily crawling, the promise of thunderstorms on the horizon despite the persistent sunshine. “Damn, Ah love th’smell uh gasoline!” he crowed, inhaling softly when Keith lit it up.

“Yer weird, shortcake,” Keith chuckled, but he gave his boyfriend a peck on the cheek regardless. “Grab me th’tongs from th’kitchen?”

Ellis tromped inside to do as he was told, Riggs at his heels as the brunette held the sliding glass door open for him. 

[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. I will be tagging them “event: labor day” if you’d like to keep track!]

Ellis was up and in Keith’s kitchen before ten, grinding lemon halves on a plastic juicer to the blare of Alice Cooper while Riggs sprawled out in the doorway. That afternoon he was not only hosting lunch for his own family, but for Keith’s mother and little brother, and the fridge was already brimming with side dishes partially prepped and snack foods for throughout the afternoon until a big meal at three. His culinary skills had been something of a slow buildup from December when he’d first been elected primary chef between Keith and himself, but he’d been mixing, cooking, and allowing his boyfriend to taste test for two days now, and everything was damn near perfect – or repeated until it had become so.

The smell of brewing coffee brought Keith out of bed before brunette had the chance to fetch him himself, the redhead pausing to press a sleepy kiss to El’s ear with a hand resting just above where Ellis had been tattooed a few nights before. “Ain’t school back in?” he asked with a groggy chuckle, referencing the song thundering on the radio.

“Not fer me it ain’t,” Ellis simpered, mashing harder, “An’ Ah ain’t lettin’ that lil’ snot next door fergit it.”

Keith moved to the coffee pot, fumbling sleepily for a mug from the cabinet, “The kid across th’street?”

“Shit yeah!” exclaimed the stocky mechanic with a wild, juice-splattering gesture of his hand clutching the lemon, “Asshole’s drivin’ uh PT Loser an’ had th’nerve tuh call mah truck uh clunker jus’ cus it smells like fruitcake still. Called me Father Christmas.” Ellis snorted, cramming the lemon down on the spike again, “Gonnuh teach’im uh lesson ‘bout screwin’ with his elders.” 

Oh, y’all mean mah KAWC? 

When Ah firs’ moved out uh mah mom’s, Ah wus workin’ th’real’ early shifts at th’garage… M’friends usetuh have me up mostuh th’nigh’, man, jus’ bein’ out ‘er playin’ videogames ‘er shit like that, cus they didn’t go in til hours later. *Snorts* Ah usetuh be real’ tired sumtimes from not goin’ tuh bed at awl, an’ mah buddy Dave caught awn an’ gave me one uh them Five Hour Energy drinks an’ ho’lee shit, man, Ah drank like five more an’ Ah wus doin’ Irish jigs awn folks’s cars n’shit! *Laughs and grins*

Paul got me started awn them lil coffee can thangs from Starbucks, th’doubleshots? An’ then Ah always loved orange juice, an’ when Ah cud afford them individual bottles Ah started gittin’ them too.

It awl kinduh jus’ came tuhgether after thah an’ Ah been doin’ it ever since. 

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“Holiday Insights”

National Beheading Day is today. Throughout history, beheadings have occurred. The list is long, including commoners and Kings. The most notable king to be beheaded was Charles I of England in 1645.

They toppled across the carpeted floor, wrestling with grunted laughter and breathless chuckles that hiccupped on growls; Keith’s shoulder hit the wall with a thump and Ellis could only giggle and snort as the redhead retaliated by grabbing him in a headlock. “Fucker!” Ellis said joyously, squirming in a futile attempt to escape the hold, the inside of Keith’s elbow holding fast to his throat.

“Say I kicked yer ass, shortcake,” jeered Keith delightedly, “An’ I migh’ show mercy.”

“Take off mah head then,” Ellis chorused, choking himself to roll them over in a tangle of limbs, “Ah shall go from uh corruptible to uh incorruptible crown, where no…” his voice broke off into a laughing fit as Keith abandoned the headlock to attack his ribs with skittering fingers instead.

“History won’t save yew now, darlin’!”  

Riggs began barking in excitement, bouncing around his masters in a four-legged war dance before diving into the fold. 

Mostuh th’wrestlin’ we do is actually cus Ah’m rollin’ around with Keith an’ Riggs jumps in. *Snorts* He’s usually awn Keith’s side, tuh be honest, an’ he’ll still play bite if we don’t cut it out after uh couple-few minutes, cus he don’t always know we’re jus’ playin’. We been workin’ awn thah stuff… 

We been workin’ awn tricks, too - jus’ me an’ Riggs, mostly, but Keith’ll come help if Ah ask ‘im. He can do awl th’easy shit now, like sit, stay, dance, belly crawls, roll over; we’re makin’ loads uh progress awn play dead, open th’door, catch th’robber, an’ mah favorite - steal Nick’s paper. *Snickers* Ah been readin’ online, an there’s awl kindsuh shit he can learn, cus he’s real’ smart an’ he likes real’ specific instructions. 

Man, even when we’re tired after work ‘er from bein’ out awl day, Keith’ll always git up an’ take uh walk ‘er uh jog wit’ Riggs. Sumtimes Ah don’t even go.

Real’ cool uh him, since he’s always goin’ awn ‘bout how th’dog wudn’t his idea… 

 Buhtween yew an’ me, Ah think Keith’s real’ glad we got ‘im. Whenever Ah see ‘em playin’ tuhgether Ah git them butterflies.

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Aw, c’mon, Ah don’t wannuh hear nothin’ dirty ‘bout Para – thah’s jus’gross as hell.

Now Ah usetuh be damnsure if Ah reached fer mah phone when me an’ mah boyfrien’ Keith wus - *stammers and lets the phrase fade on its own* - he’d be real’ sore with me.

But as it turns out, that ain’t always th’case. See this one time…

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“Holiday Insights”

Emma M. Nutt Day celebrates the first woman telephone operator in America on September 1, 1878. It was a very important job for many decades. Today, the position has been eliminated being replaced by automation in telephone systems.  

“Was’see like Mom?” questioned Maybel from where he perched in his big brother’s lap, peering at the pictures in the article Ellis had drawn up on his phone.Ardenhad already taken a disliking of history and boredly glanced away towards the television instead.

“Naw, we don’t do phones like this no more,” Ellis murmured, perching his dimpled chin on Maybel’s blonde curls as he continued scrolling. “Ma does emergency calls, like if sumbody’s hurt, she sends ambulances out an’ shit.”

“Can Ah call Nick?”Arden asked dully, kicking his feet lazily as he slumped against the couch.

“Sure,” Ellis said with a snort, exiting his history article and offering the phone to the three year old, who was proficient in dialing Nick’s number after days of practice. “See, if this wus olden days, there’d be uh person who’d have tuh connect yer call for yuh.”

“Cool,” muttered Arden, who obviously didn’t think so at all.  

Shit yeah! Me an’ Keith stopped bah his ma’s fer uhwhile since Keith got her this real’ pretty blouse, y’know, cus Ah guess she’s fussy an’ don’t like most th’gifts he gits ‘er. *Pauses and frowns, rasping his stubble with his nails* It’s still purdy awkward goin’ over there tuh be honest, but Keith offered an’ a’course Ah wannuh make ‘er like me more… *Smiles crookedly* Family’s family; Keith’s part uh mine, Ah wannuh be part uh his. 

We took mah mom out fer seafood since thah’s like one uh her favorites an’ she ain’t no good at cookin’ it, an’ then jus’ kinduh walked around this garden thang fer uhwhile an’ she told Keith sum shit ‘bout me bein’ lil’. Ah don’t think he knows uh whole bunch ‘bout me growin’ up since we don’t always look at everythang we post awn here… *Chews the inside of his cheek, considering* Guess maybe Ah outtuh share summore.

But maaan, Ah love mah mom. She really likes Keith an’ she took uh bunchuh pictures uh us even though it wus her day, an’ she e-mailed me uh couple an’ they’re real’ cute. Ah gottuh few uh Keith an’ her so Ah changed mah desktop. *Beams* 

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