You're the Palette to my World

“Lucy, C’mere Girl!”
Frank Whistled, turning off the bath faucet and mixing in some pink puppy bubbles with his tattooed hand.
He was kneeling in front of the tub, drawing a purebred dog a bath and suprisingly, the sight was more priceless than it sounded.
He was a grown man who had never taken care of anything living, aside from a gold fish.
So- Frank trying to take care of something that required so much attention and responsibility was a ridiculous thing to expect him to do well. Let’s just hope it doesn’t take him too long to get used to and that he never forgets to fill her food dish or give her a little water now and then…
Frank had had a dog before, but his mother had taken care of it mostly.
I mean it’s not like he didn’t love animals… And it’s not as if he had never wanted one of his own, he just really didn’t have the time for it.
Before he had moved in with Ray he had to keep up with two jobs, eating actual food, showering daily, and paying the rent, which was considerably steep even if he didn’t live in the best area.

He smiled silently to himself as he heard Lucy’s little paws clacking towards the bathroom.
Once the noise stopped, he turned around from the tub and saw her sitting politely in the doorway, staring at him with curiosity.
“Well there you are! I’ve been calling for you for nearly an hour!”
His voice held a hint of sugar, he had grown fond of Lucy in the past few days of living at Ray’s and Couldn’t help but marvel in her adorableness.
“C’mere…” He patted his knee and she hesitantly came to him, sitting down in front of the bath and staring, horrified at the bubbly monster.

“Aw. Don’t worry old girl… I’m cpr certified…”
Frank cooed, rubbing her scrappy head with a small laugh.

After calming her down with a few strokes, Frank began the dreaded picking up and lowering towards the bubbly abyss part of their little pep-talk.
Lucy whimpered as she touched the water and Frank laughed at her expense when she sneezed up bubbles, her tail between her legs…
She basically looked like a wet janitor’s mop, caked with dirt and grime…Except the dirt and grime was just the shade of her wet coat.
Frankie squeezed some of the professional dog shampoo into the palm of his hand and began to massage it into Lucy’s jungle of fluff.
“See? This isn’t as bad as you thought, right?”

Frank blew at some of the bubbles and grinned at the poor thing…
“I do have to say, though. You look a drip away from awful… I thought this shampoo was supposed to create-”
Frank looked down at the bottle to humor himself and read aloud,
“A happier and more exuberant coat… Hm.”
Lucy shook out her soaked coat, huffily and water splattered all over Frank,
“Agh, Fuck!”
Soap and dirty water burnt at his eyes and he jumped up to the sink to wash it out.
“Christ, dog…what do you want from me?” He groaned, as the cold tap water peeled off some of the sting.
Just as Frank was kneeling back down to the sassy puppy in the tub, his cell phone gave a small,
*Ping*
So, with one hand he held Lucy’s wet tail as she struggled to jump out of the bath and with the other, he reached into his tight back pocket for his phone…

“Ey Francie, ws wnderng. U doin Nythng tonite?”

Frank saw that the text was from one of his earlier flames, that one (hotandheknowsit) blonde douche bag from that one modeling agency. (thatnobodyevenrecognized)
He took me out to eat this one night, but would barely talk about anything but himself and he didn’t even eat anything! All he did was fucking drink, brag about himself, brandish himself with compliments, attempt a smoldering look while wasted, stick me with the bill, fail at earning my respect, and also ruin his chances of getting me out again and getting into my pants.
So he did all of that, and he expects me to answer a text that doesn’t have one word spelled the slightest bit correct? That’s not how it works honey… Not with Frank Iero it doesn’t.
Frank expected the men that invited him on a date to
A) At least PRETEND they want to get to know him better. B) At least PAY for what THEY ordered, if not the full bill. C) At least wait until the SECOND date for attempts at getting into his pants. (That’s not too demanding, is it?)
D) At least WARN HIM when they are planning on getting plastered to the point of passing out.
Yeah, so I haven’t exactly had the most remarkable dating life.
And this- This model guy… Kyle?
He was one of the shittiest dates in the history of shitty dates…
Really, I think he thought that just because he was cute he didn’t have to talk with me or something, like I would give him a one way ticket to my ass for free? Pfft.
He sent our waiter back with the wine that he brought us because apparently it wasn’t aged enough.
He barely made eye contact with me when I tried to start up a conversation about anything other than his life and body.
He had one of THE most obnoxious and harsh laughs’ I’d ever had the displeasure of taking in… (Remind me to never tell blonde jokes to models. They laugh, and hard.)
Really, it was terrible… He almost puked on my shoes after that…
The alcohol and laughter was too much for his weak stomach to handle I guess.
Oh boy, what a jerk.
Man, just having that experience has changed my flexibility on dating… because I’m pretty sure in the past month I have ran the fug away from any guys who fit even one of his characteristics, ugh.
“A’ight, hold on a sec, Luce… I’m going to go and extinguish somebody’s self esteem!”
After closing the bathroom door behind him, he made it to the living room and plopped onto one of Ray’s big, ornate sofas.
Frank went to his contacts and found Kyle… Who was marked as, ‘toeheadprick’ (for closure) and hit dial,
“Hello?”
“Yeah, hey, it’s Francie. I just wanted to let you know that I got your message and was wondering what the fuggin’ hell you were trying to ask me because everything was- more or less spelt incorrectly, including my name.” He spoke in one of his Angel-of-Sarcasm voices.
“Also, I would like to genuinely wish you luck in your future dating life...and I hope to god that sticking me with the bill was just a dead-pan joke of yours or something…”

After calling the man out on a few more things, Frank clapped his phone shut to avoid getting any rude comments back from that fat-headed egoist.

He opened the door, blinded by his angry thoughts and something cold, wet and hairy urgently plowed through his legs…. Oh shit!
“NO, LUCY! GET BACK HERE!”
Frank panicked and ripped ass after the slippery bubble trail left on the beautiful, and shockingly expensive stained hardwood floor.
When he’d reached the living room panting, he caught a slight glimpse of her heading straight into-
RAY’S STUDIO!
“Oh god, no- Lucy, noo-” Frank cried out desperately.
In chaotic effort, the man made it into the room…
Only to see Lucy furiously ripping apart the sheet that covered one of her daddy’s latest pieces!
Frank’s heart stammered and for a moment, he couldn’t move…
He quickly noticed that he was the monkey in this game…
Standing in between the one way out, and Lucy and one of Ray’s paintings, this was going to turn to shit.
Planning his next move, very poorly…
Frank lunged at Lucy like an eagle swooping in on its prey.
So, she was obviously not going to just sit there and get caught. Who likes baths anyways?
Lucy sprang away from Frank’s grubby arms and jumped up onto Ray’s short drawing table that was covered in an array of acrylic paint tubes…
“LUCY!” Frank hollered as a stream of paint went flying into his eyes… He wiped at it and it formed hilariously messy streaks across his face, almost like a mask.
And after green came a flurry of red, black, magenta and even aquamarine… Paint flew through the air and did not cease until she grew bored and jumped down from the table.
Frank jumped too, at Lucy, missing her by only a few miscounted seconds…
“GODDAMMNIT, DOG!”
Frank ran full-speed to the door….
But he stopped abruptly, catching the great scope of white carpeting that stretched out before him, the living room.
He craned his head out and saw wet, paint-covered Lucy rolling around on the expensive, un-water proof, irreplaceable leather couch.
“You little-“Frank hissed through his teeth,
“That Fuggin’ couch is worth more than my house!-Down!” He ordered, pointing to the floor. Lucy began to wag her tail, putting her butt in the air, playfully.
“Get. The Fuck-“
Frank was cut off by the front doorknob jiggling…
He heard another voice in the room,
“Towels, sir” One of the many maids asked loudly to an empty room.
I could just barely make out her confused features, looking around the living room for me.
She could probably hear me through the door, down the hallway even.
Wait a second-
“Close the door! -Fuuuuuck” He was too late; Lucy had run past the maid and was out the door in barely half of a second.
Frank ripped off his paint covered sneakers and pummeled past the wide-eyed maid into the dimly lit hall.
Now, which fucking way did she go?