It's one thing to be taken for granted. It's another thing entirely to be used and abused. There's only so much anyone can take, especially when you're out in the yard in a downpour.

Another in a small series of 365-word tales.

Inspired by  poetigress, and the Thursday Prompt

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“Well, it’s like this,’ Bill said carefully, “everybody's nice an’ dry — ’cept me.” He waited a heartbeat before continuing. “Uh — not that I mind, o’ course! I like t’be helpful.”

He nodded his massive head affirmatively, hoping nobody would be offended by his comment. They weren't. Probably because they were fleas huddled warmly under his belly, waiting for the rain to stop.

“I like being helpful, y’know. It's nice t’be nice. My granny always said it's nice t’be nice.” A guffaw and a theatrical yawn came from beneath him. Bill winced and looked up at the leaden sky, still feeling a little used.

“Don't look like it’s gonna stop any time soon. You think maybe we could find, y’know, maybe a spot under some trees or somethin’? Like, someplace better, huh?”

His request elicted catcalls and abuse from down below. Bill hunched his back, hurt, as rainwater dripped off his nose and plipped onto the muddy earth beneath. They laughed and sang ribald songs, enjoying themselves, and yelled at him if he moved a muscle. A rumble of nearby thunder failed to dampen their spirits … but Bill was certainly damp.

Soaked, in fact. His pelt felt like it had absorbed a whole cloud. It weighed him down, physically and emotionally. He wished he could be the one who was safe and warm, snuggled up in someone else’s plush pelt, drowsy and content.

He wouldn’t make the racket they made, nor question the parentage of the one keeping them warm and dry ...

A spark went off inside him. Why was he doing this? Why should he be so nice and kind? No, Granny, it’s no good! He rose ponderously to his feet and shook himself violently. They screeched in anger, biting him and yelling for him to sit back down or else.

He had had enough. It was time for action.

Bill padded over to the bridge over the Big Water and threw himself in. Let’s see how they like it now, he thought, as they screamed and jumped off him, looking for the shore. Revenge!

An exasperated voice came from an upstairs window. “Honey? Honey! Your stupid dog just jumped in the storm drain again!”


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