Chimerical_Knave
Sugar, Spice, and Everything In Between.

A list. She had brought with her some list full of stuff that I was supposed to be a part of - mandatory. I guess that I shouldn't have been complaining though because it could always be worse.
"So what's this anyways? We going shopping or something?"
This time she was prepared. She scribbled down something on a sticky note and slapped it onto my fur. I winced as I pulled it off and glared at her - she wasn't deterred by my glare at all, not that I was able to keep it up for much longer. I took my eyes off of her for a second and scanned the note.
Sugar, cereal, chocolate, Sprite, and yogurt.
"A list of sweets? Listen, I don't got much of a sweet tooth so-
She furiously scribbled something down and stuck it on my nose. I ripped it off and read it before ripping it apart.
It's: I don't have much of a sweet tooth.
"What're you, my teacher?" She nodded and I grinned. "Fine by me. Hope you have enough of them notes, though."
She frowned and my grin widened. More scribbling and then the note was plastered onto my brow.
Here lies a Dummy. RIP.
"Hey! I'm no-
She was already out the door twirling my car keys. I gaped at her before checking my pockets. She was a mute pick-pocketing thief! I jumped into the car and chided her for thievery before snatching the keys from her and jamming them into the ignition. The blasted truck wouldn't start yet again. "Fuck my life." I muttered.
She, on the other hand, shook her head and slapped my hand aside. "Okay. Let me see you try it then."
She smirked and then turned the ignition. A low rumble shook the car as my engine rattled to life. She smirked more and eyed me smugly. "Shhh, beginners luck." I cranked the car in reverse.
As I drove down the empty road I couldn’t help but notice that she had a small scratch on her left cheek. I reluctantly asked her about it.
It’s nothing.
I didn’t take my eyes off the road. “It was those bastards wasn’t it? Are they still bothering you? You need me to rough them up a bit?”
I said it was nothing. They aren’t bothering me anymore. At least, not when you’re around me.
My motor skills were driven to the limits as I was reading and driving at the same time. “So they are bothering you. Why do you let them do that to you? Call the cops. Scream for…oh right. Shit.”
She socked my right arm and then slapped a note across my cheek.
I said that it was nothing. Stop asking questions about them. It’s none of your business.
I was getting annoyed at her juvenile behavior. “Fine…I’ll stop asking questions.”
She grinned slightly as she looked away but I caught it. Then I floored my truck on the brakes and halted immediately at a stop sign, wiping that look off of her face as she was almost flung from her seat. Her glare was enforced with a low growl.
"Hey, that's what your seatbelt is for." I laughed. She eyed her stack of sticky notes and then eyed me.
My laughter subsided as I noticed the malicious grin spread across her muzzle. "What're you-
...---...
By the time we arrived at the market, I was covered in sticky notes - well, mostly my chest but some had managed to stick onto my face. I grumbled in protest while she smiled in utter delight.
I escorted her to the front doors where the greeter always stood. He was about to happily greet her when he noticed my larger frame falling in step right behind her. His ears fell back and he choked mid-sentence. She stared at him curiously and then grabbed my hand, tugging me along. I hastily grabbed a basket as I was dragged.
I was dragged past aisles and people – she had no clue where we were going at all. “You’ve never been to the supermarket, eh?”
She quickly shook her head before charging on again. I stood my ground and pulled her back. “Look, if you want sugar and sweets then they’re that way. We’re going towards the meat n things right now.”
She pulled out her pen, pad, and scribbled something down. Poultry.
“I know, meat n things.” I received a glare.
I led her to the sweets without much difficulty. Standing in the aisle of candy, her eyes wide, she began tossing this and that into the basket. Chocolates, lollipops, chewables, and anything else that she could get her paws on became a wild pile inside the basket. By the time we made it to the diary products I wasn’t sure what would give way first: the basket or my arm?
She viewed the yogurts as if they were some kind of foreign delicacy: turning them over in her paws and scrutinizing every single one of them. But it just wasn’t the yogurts; from what I could notice, everything inside the supermarket sparked her curiosity. I knew that she had never visited the supermarket but this was a little too extreme even for me.
At the spices, she immediately picked out a single bottle from the rest. I eyed the bottle that she brought before me: Tabasco.
She unscrewed the cap and took a whiff. The result was her gagging and coughing, tears forming in her eyes.
I tried to ward her bottle away from me but she insisted that I needed this. After a bit, I reluctantly allowed the bottle to be stacked on top of everything else.
While I waited in one of the lines, she darted off somewhere. I waited and then scooted forward; waited then scooted forward. By the time I reached the conveyer belt and cashier, there still wasn’t any sign of her. I began to scan the area, peering over heads and faces. Then, just as I was about to leave, she showed up holding a short cylindrical object: mint ice-cream.
I rolled my eyes. “You’re definitely paying for all of this.”
To my surprise, she pushed me aside and pulled out a wad of cash.
“I was just kidding around, you know? I’m gonna pay for that.” She refused to budge. We had a stare down as the cashier’s eyes darted between us two.
I overpowered her with my arms and then held out my card. “Excuse my daughter. She’s not right in the he-
I grunted as a painful sting erupted from my left shin. She walked away as I cursed under my breath. The cashier warily handed back my card as I tried to walk the sting off.
“You’re…you’re just a bundle of fucking joy, you know that?” I growled at her.
She flashed her yellow note at me. I’ll take that as a compliment.
As I drove away I thought I saw a familiar white trunk, but I didn’t pay any attention to it; I had a blue vixen in tow with me and that was enough to worry and think about.
When we arrived at my house, she had gone through a couple wrappers of sweets. She had ravenously devoured them like she’d never been fed before. A wild appetite, she had.
Granted, she became more docile with her snacks inside the house. A nibble here and there as she stared at me. She finally reached into the grocery bag and pulled out a yogurt stick. It landed on my lap.
“I’m not sure that I want this.” I picked it up gingerly and eyed its contents.
She pulled out another one and ripped it open, greedily slurping out its contents with some degree of difficulty. I watched her like a kid at the zoo, entranced.
She went through three more yogurt sticks in record time before she reached over and snatched mine.
“I was about to eat that. Slurp that…whatever.”
She eyed me with a fascination that was often found in children. That look in her eyes and that tensed-up body — she was wary of me.
I stood up and reached over to the goody-bag. Her eyes followed. But while all of her attention was focused on my one right hand she didn’t notice my left.
She practically jumped off of the couch as my five digits assaulted her side. Her act of frenzy scattered most of the contents from the bag onto the floor.
She eyed me vehemently. As I sat back down chuckling, a candy bar bounced off my head.
“Shit, you just fell for one of the oldest tricks ever.”
I caught a wad of paper headed toward my face. Keep on laughing you geezer.
I made a face at her. “You know, that hurt my poor shriveled up heart.”
She stuck her tongue at me before jumping off of the couch and grabbing the bottle of Tabasco off the floor. To the kitchen, she went; a second later, I followed.
A blue tail protruded from my pantry door, shaking its bushy body to the gods. A clunk and a clutter later, she set two cans of beef stew on the countertop. Next to those, she set the bottle of hot stuff.
She eyed my stove curiously and began fiddling with the knobs, her tail floating dangerously close above her shoulder. I grabbed her and jerked her away. She glared at me.
 “Looks like you’ve never seen a gas operated stove before. You don’t have one of these at your home?” She shook her head.
“No matter. Just let me handle the cooking. Don’t want you burning yer tail to ashes.”
I peeled the lid off of both cans and dumped the stew into a pot. "Watch and learn from the chef." A few minutes later, lunch was served.
She cautiously prodded a chunk of beef in her stew with her fork. She finally decided it was safe to eat - but not before pouring a waterfall of Tabasco in her bowl. She took a spoon sample; satisfied with the results, she began to dig in ravenously.
I took my time eating and eyeing her. I almost cringed when the waft of the spices hit my nose.
"Why do you put that stuff in your food anyway? It's supposed to be eaten straight, you know?"
A yellow slip slid across the table. Plain beef stew is bland.
"Huh. I never try to add anything to my food. That ruins everything."
If you don't add anything to it, it's boring. Routine. You get the picture.
"Never thought of it that way. Alright Ms. Know-It-All, I'll add spice to my food now. See if it changes my mind about it."
The red liquid sloshed inside the glass bottle as it halted in my paw. One whiff and I almost regretted it. A sour, vinegary scent didn't help my doubt. I couldn't stop now; she was watching me. I felt like a man standing before a judge awaiting my sentence.
I finally poured a couple drops into the stew. The red drops spread and disappeared as my spoon generated a mini-vortex.
The smell may have been far from anything pleasant but the taste was something altogether: a piquant taste hidden behind the thick, juicy stew; a wild kick in the tongue right after the savory beef. It made my food come alive. But I took too much at once and a coughing fit ensued.
"This is...this is really something. I think I might add this to everything from now on."
She smiled, as if I had passed some exam, and sent me a message. I’m glad that you enjoy your spiced up food.
A small grin crept along my muzzle and thanked her.
"It’s all thanks to you.”
I downed a large spoonful and coughed again — tears appearing at the edge of my eyes.
"But I'm an old guy. I can't have too much spice."
Even though she had poured the Tabasco into her stew, she didn't seem affected at all. I wouldn't worry about it. It’s too plain anyways.
"I'll take it in gradual amounts, thank you."
She stopped eating for a second to flash me a sly grin.
No. Thank you.