The trouble with having pets, mused Ranma in the absent-minded way of the recently concussed, is that they don’t appear to understand ‘play’ in the same way as humans.
At first, everything had been going fine. Bob was perfectly happy to see him (Glub glub burble!) and even more pleased to see the meat bone he’d brought (granted, he didn’t exactly chew on it, but the slobbering was performed with considerable enthusiasm).
Once he got bored with his newest toy (and dissolved roughly a third of it) Ranma decided to see if he could get him to transform the way Nabiki mentioned.
“Okay boy… sit!”
Cue stumpy pile with a panting tongue.
“Igloo!”
Flattened dome. With spikes. And a panting tongue.
“Dog!”
The dome contracted and sprouted legs, while the entrance shifted into a… face. Of sorts.
After giving the matter due consideration, Ranma decided it brought to mind the offspring of a bulldog and a shaved poodle. Somehow, this failed to make him look any less intimidating. The armour plating, spiked collar and fact that he weighed more than the panda probably helped.
“Good boy! Now then,” muttered Ranma as he wandered over to rub Bob’s head “let’s see what you can do in this for-urgf!”
Apparently, the dog form wasn’t purely for show. Bob, as the mutant guard-dog from the Black Lagoon, had acquired the sense of smell implied by its canine template. Along, it would appear, with some of its instincts.
“Down, boy! Sit! Si… why are you licking my shirt?”
Pinned to the basement floor by Bob’s considerable mass, Ranma would have had no problem shifting his suddenly affectionate pet (despite hitting his head on the floor rather firmly) but for three things.
First, he didn’t want to hurt Bob, or upset him if he was just being friendly. Second, grappling with what was, basically, a giant living curry was going to require him to bathe and change his clothes. Again.
And finally, it had not escaped Ranma’s notice that Bob’s attention was focused, not on him, precisely, but on his newest article of clothing.
Being drooled on by a tame curry monster was something Ranma had become used to, but Bob was using licking his hand or face, not his clothes.
And when he did so, Ranma slowly realised, he didn’t, as a rule, change colour.
It started with lighter patches of green moving along Bob’s flanks, gradually shading towards yellow. Pink and orange spots began randomly appearing and vanishing along his skin as well, while Bob’s overall form began to… ripple.
Reaching out to his pet’s shoulders, Ranma gently nudged him sideways while rolling over. Change of clothes or not, Bob’s reaction did not look healthy.
Bob put up only a feeble resistance as he slumped sideways, his form reverting to his normal gelatinous state as shifting colours continued to shimmer over his surface.
What the hell! thought Ranma, trying to reign in his sudden panic. Is he sick or something? Poisoned? He’d never had a pet before, but Ranma was pretty certain this sort of thing wasn’t a good sign, even if he was spawned from the deepest recesses of the kitchen.
A moment of consideration had him reject the notion of poison; anyone who ate Akane’s cooking on a regular basis could shrug off most conventional poisons with ease, someone who actually was some of Akane’s cooking was probably immune to anything short of being dumped into an active volcano. Hell, even the old ghoul wouldn’t be able to drug… wait a minute. Ranma took a closer look at Bob.
While he’d mostly reverted to his resting state (a pile of goo) he still seemed fairly energetic. Irregular shifts in his form occurred in time with the streams of colours that rippled across his surface. A low growling/humming noise reverberated from the centre of the pile, it sounded… happy? While he didn’t seem to be paying attention to the outside world, he did seem to be reacting to something, like he was listening to music, or…
He’s stoned, Ranma realised, looking at his happily burbling pet. He licked my shirt, and now he’s gone to play with the fairies.
Ranma gave his new shirt a careful look. It didn’t look ominous. No strange markings, no aura, no ominous feelings, just a plain, black silk shirt coated with streaks of yellow curry-drool.
Okay, considered Ranma, so my new shirt from the totally-not-suspicious shop acts like catnip for curry monsters. Right, that makes complete sense. He snorted; considering his life thus far, this was probably getting off lightly. It didn’t appear to have done anything to him thus far, but he should probably change again just to be sure.
Maybe get Nabiki to take a look at it with that portable lab of hers, assumin’ that she’s got it workin’ all right, mused Ranma, heading up the basement stairs. Labs had all sorts of things like that, didn’t they?
Stripping off the shirt as he moved towards his room, Ranma wondered what he had left that was clean, not noticing that the stains left by Bob had disappeared…
(Posted Fri, 03 Jan 2014 18:29)
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らんま1/2 © Rumiko Takahashi
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