What a Dog!

         The soft bing-bong of the doorbell triggered a cacophony of raucous barking from within the house, making me flinch and tense up even more.  I was already nervous enough about having to do this without having to deal with a dog as well.  I hate those disgusting creatures, and the big ones scare me to death.  Through one of the long windows beside the door I had a clear view of some sort of terrier-like terror with its head wedged between the railings of the stair banister, barking at the door as if I was going to massacre the entire household.  Did I mention that dogs are stupid, too?
         A few seconds later, while I was still grumbling to myself, Tony opened the door.  I jumped as the hinges squeaked and then attempted to force myself to act normally.  My face felt hot—was I blushing?  Of course.  It’s my curse to turn into a tomato at the slightest hint of embarrassment.  Not exactly subtle when you’re dealing with a guy… I will never forgive my teacher for giving us an out-of-school project and assigning Tony McGahee as my partner.  I’m deathly shy to start with, and then add the fact that Tony is half-Scottish, half-Italian gorgeousness with his long dark hair, bottle green eyes (with lashes I’d kill for), chiseled physique… Am I rambling?  Sorry, I tend to get a little carried away when I talk about Tony.
         Anywho, I hesitantly walked in and automatically took off my shoes, a habit my mother has drilled into me ever since I was little.  After that, I just stood in the entryway not knowing what to do, shifting my be-socked feet awkwardly.  That didn’t last long.  As if on cue, the mongrel I was bemoaning earlier bounded down the stairs and knocked me over.
         “Help!  Get this thing off of me!  It’s licking me!  Ick!” I wailed.
         Did gallant Sir Tony come to my rescue?  No.  He laughed.  That’s right—he stood there and laughed.  I’m on the floor being coated with dog slobber, and all he does is chuckle inanely and offer up wisecracks like “It looks like she likes you!” or “You’ve made a new friend!”
         Finally, after an age and a half of agony, he calls his beast off of me, leaving me in a disheveled heap malodorous with the stench of dog.  I felt slightly queasy and realized that that incident right there just ended the three-year crush I’d had on Tony, full stop.  Now, my main priority was to get this stupid project over with and escape from his house.
         “C’mon, let’s get this thing done,” I grumbled to the still-giggling imbecile.  We trooped up to his room to use his computer since (of course) his mother was using the one in the kitchen.
         Once I stepped into his room, something inside of me just snapped.  It was filthy!  I’m sure it qualified as a biohazard.  There was dirty underwear strewn about, a half decomposed pizza slice chucked on top of his computer monitor, and to top it all off, a life-size poster of Pamela Anderson with, to be tactful, the smallest amount of clothing it’s possible to wear without being considered nude.  The poster was the last straw.
         I whipped out the paper detailing the project, ripped it in half, equally dividing the list of tasks, and thrust his half in his face.
         “Here,” I snapped.  “Let’s make this easy.  You do this bit, and I’ll do the rest.  Fair, easy, and a way to avoid spending any more time in this nest of festering pre-pubescence!”
         On that note, I stormed out of his room, down the stairs, and out the door before the mutt had a chance to coat me with another layer of saliva.  After dealing with this, I had a definite appointment with a venti peppermint white chocolate mocha at Starbucks!  The whole way there, I contemplated the irony that a guy so delectable-looking could be such a sleazebag.  Trust me not to judge a book (read: boy) by its cover (read: pretty face) again!
         Once I got to Starbucks and started chatting to the cute barista, however, Tony and his little lesson had totally left my brain.  Oh well, I guess I’m incorrigible.  Sue me.