Igor's Warehouse, Saturday morning
"Scrapth!" It was a child's wail, very loud and very piercing, and the made-of-many-parts dog bounded across the workshop, a tool in his mouth that really should not be in the hands of a child, especially not an Igor child.
"That'th mine!" Igor yelled and pelted after him, tripping and going head over heels to land on his back. "I need it! Igor says I'm too young, but everyone elthe has a scar and I wanna have one too!" (Not only was wee Igor lacking in scars and extra parts, his lisp was a bit shaky.)
Scraps barked and shook his head, stowed the instrument, then bounded back to wash Igor's face most thoroughly, making him giggle and try to squirm away. "You're a good dog, Scrapth," he laughed, and bounced to his feet. "We should play!"
He ran out of his workshop, and Scraps ran after him.
"That'th mine!" Igor yelled and pelted after him, tripping and going head over heels to land on his back. "I need it! Igor says I'm too young, but everyone elthe has a scar and I wanna have one too!" (Not only was wee Igor lacking in scars and extra parts, his lisp was a bit shaky.)
Scraps barked and shook his head, stowed the instrument, then bounded back to wash Igor's face most thoroughly, making him giggle and try to squirm away. "You're a good dog, Scrapth," he laughed, and bounced to his feet. "We should play!"
He ran out of his workshop, and Scraps ran after him.