By pwnedpuppy

“Fuck,” Pete grumbled as he slammed down the phone.  I could tell something was awry – his boots thumping as he came back downstairs to the playroom where I was locked up in the dog cage.

“Well, this is fucking great,” said Pete as he looked down on me.  “Some prick went and injured himself doing renos on his place last night,” he explained, “and now they’re calling me in to cover his shift.”

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