Basic Training (1k words)
(Meta note: this is a writing exercise based upon characters created by [geneseepaws](%5C). It is exactly 1,000 words -- see [here](%5C) for the full version.)
Basic Training
"Well well," the dalmatian heard caustically behind him, "what have we here?"
He looked up from his book to find his bunk surrounded.
"Looks like Bobbie's got his nose in a book," a rottweiler answered mockingly.
"Again? He must read slow, if it takes him 3 hours a day." His five bunk mates laughed.
"What else does he read?" he heard, as his footlocker clanked open.
The thought of them digging through it made him close his book, get up, and shove the rottweiler with all his might.
"Don't touch my stuff!" the dalmatian yelled, "you sick --!" But his statement was cut off by a pair of hands around his neck.
"Just watch," growled the rotweiler from behind, as his hands barely let him wheeze to breathe.
Clothes, books, and his diploma were all tossed out carelessly. The thing they finally reached was the most precious thing in the world to Bobbie.
"Ho ho! Look here!" announced the cat, holding up the picture of the dalmatian with a large lion's arm wrapped around him. The way they held each other was unmistakable, even though Kyle had been dead for a year.
"Let's show lover boy the stairs!" advised the rottweiler.
Bobbie was forced to stand in the footlocker with sharp control of his airway.
"Down the stairs! Down the stairs! Down the stairs!" they chanted.
Pushing with his neck, shoulders, and arms, Bobbie did admirably keeping the lid from being closed -- until the panther sat on it and it banged shut.
"Boys!"
The chanting stopped instantly.
"It's time for shooting practice! Atten-tion!"
Bobbie dismayed -- until he heard them form a line, and realized that they were no longer sitting on the lid of the locker. He stood up, banging the door open.
"Ah, there you are," announced a rather large lion calmly, "did they put you in there?"
The dalmatian just nodded, tongue tied with anger and fear.
"Step over here, Private Dalmatziener."
Bobbie walked over to the lion, surprised that the sergant knew his name.
The sergant then blocked the doorway, and calmly drew out his sidearm. "Now!" he barked in his drilling voice to the others, "all of you are worthless! You are soldiers, not body builders looking for a good time! Understand!?"
The trainees responded with a line of stiff and submissive nods.
"Now! Private Dalmatziener! You will illustrate firearms technique for these misfits!"
"Sir, yes, sir," answered Bobbie -- far more weakly than any sergant should accept.
"Take this pistol!"
Bobbie's fear was transformed the moment he took hold of the metal. This weapon of legendary ability gave him power. He was still afraid, but now he could do something about it.
"You will find a safety switch on just above your thumb! Switch it off!"
The dalmatian's thumb made the metal click loudly.
"Now! You will find rear and forward sights! These are aligned for proper aim!"
Bobbie held the gun up, pointing it at the ceiling, as he looked down its body. The notches were tiny, but prominent when he looked down them.
"Now!" shouted the Sergant. "Private Dalmatziener, select a target!"
Bobbie looked among the five terrified faces. He selected the rottweiler, simply because he was the most afraid.
"Bobbie!?" the dog called out in fear, "It was just a joke!"
These protestations, however, hardened the dalmatian's heart as it began accelerating in anticipation.
"Get ready!"
He glared at the dog, who now had tears streaming down his muzzle.
"Take aim!"
The rottwelier dropped to his knees. "Please!! Please don't kill me!"
Everyone else stepped to the sides of the room, leaving the rottweiler to die alone.
Bobbie lined the up the notches, as his desire for revenge peaked.
"Fire!!"
BANG.
Bobbie blinked -- and realized what he had just done. Regret flooded him as he looked up to see -- the rottweiler unharmed. He sighed, as everyone in the room slowly realized it had been loaded with blanks.
"Very good, Private Dalmatziener!" The lion stepped out of the door and took his sidearm. "Everyone else, three laps around the compound! Now!"
Still in shock, everyone else stumbled to their feet, and were out of the door and running down the hall before Bobbie noticed they were gone.
"Just take it easy," the lion reassured, voice becoming gentle as they began to walk down the hall.
"I can't believe I did that," Bobbie whimpered. "If that had been a real bullet, --"
"It wasn't, Bobbie," growled the voice firmly. "Besides, you really are officer material."
Bobbie found a way to look into the lion's blue eyes. "What?"
"If you showed no regret, you would be unfit to carry one of these."
The lion interrupted himself as they arrived at the office of Sgt. James Liuwenhirt. "Stan," he directed a rather anxious private at the desk, "it was a blank. Tell whoever's on their way to turn around." The husky nodded, and picked up a small radio.
"C'mon, sit down," gestured the lion as he walked behind the heavy metal desk, covered with paper, and sat in a rather thinly-covered chair.
The dalmatian sat in a completely uncovered metal chair opposite him.
"I know you're smart. Computers?"
Bobbie nodded. It was soothing to listen to that voice.
"Great skill to have, I can tell you. But it takes more than computer skills, or shooting skills to be a good officer. Knowing which orders to give will do more harm than good is the biggest part."
Bobbie just let the silence hang a moment.
"Do you have anything to say?"
"No, sir -- may I get a new room assignment?"
Liuwenhirt smiled. "I don't think you'll need one."
This thought got the dalmatian to smile at last.
"Yes, sir," he saluted.
"Now if that is all, you're dismissed."
Bobbie put his footlocker back together. Kyle seemed to be in that office: he felt protected once again.
For the remainder of his training, none of his room-mates ever teased him again.
The End.