3 Months... (Work In Progress)
It was a clear sunny afternoon, and Hollywood was on his way back to his college from lunch. It had been a nice lunch, he had eaten at the local Chinese buffet. As he parked his car, he noticed his science teacher pulling some things out of her car. They looked heavy.
Hollywood walked up to her, "Need any help Mrs.Jones?"
She looked startled to see Hollywood, but she handed him a large black box, "Can you please carry that for me?"
He nodded, taking the box and another like it for her. She led him back to her classroom and directed him where to set the boxes. "So what are these?" Hollywood asked her.
Mrs.Jones smiled, "This is for my Advanced Chem. class."
Hollywood nodded, he had been in her class last year. Mrs.Jones seemed much happier last year. He remembered how her face would light up when she talked about her husband, and how her golden hair and sleek red fur seemed to glow. Her blue eyes radiated an ice-like shine. But then Mr.Jones passed on unexpectedly when he was the victim of a drive-by shooting when he visited Los Angeles. After that, she seemed fine, but whenever Hollywood looked into her eyes, all he saw was pain. He knew it must hurt, after all, she's still only 32.
Hollywood waved a goodbye and walked out. As he walked down the hall to his next class, he noticed his reflection in one of the glossy windowpanes. Being that he was the ripe young age of 19, he had that youthful golden sheen to his fur, like most other Golden Retrievers did. His platinum blonde hair was styled into a faux-hawk, and his piercing green eyes gazed back at him through a pair of dark-tinted aviators. The collar of his pressed white dress-shirt hung slightly open, and his black suit was spotless.
He turned away from staring at his reflection, and continued on down the hall until he reached a room marked: ROOM 102 - FASHION DESIGN. He walked in and sat in front of a moderate sized mannequin, and pulled his latest outfit designs. His teacher, Mr.Sanders, adjusted his glasses, noticing Hollywood enter the room. A compassionate smile crossed his delicately graying muzzle, "Hey Gabbana."
Hollywood looked up after hearing his last name, "Oh, hey Sanders. Come look at these designs I came up with."
It had become a custom to call eachother by their last names, but neither of them remembered why or how they started it. The coyote walked up to Hollywood, bending over to look at Hollywood's sketchpad. He took it from Hollywood's paws to get a closer look, "My, my, Gabbana, you've really outdone yourself this time. Think you can pull this one off?" he said with a smile.
"Well of course!" Hollywood playfully retorted.
Mr.Sanders watched as Hollywood scribbled down measurements, and started to draw out a clothing pattern on some special tissue paper made for patterns.