I do not own Agents of Shield.
I do own hotdogs. I bought them at Kroger this morning.
Deke and the Dog
Okay.
So, Daisy didn't like him the way he liked her and that was okay because they were probably gonna win and he would blink out of existence anyway.
Which was good.
For them to win and all.
He didn't really know how he felt about the whole blinking-out-of-existence part.
Bad, he guessed.
But he'd never been able to imagine he would make it this far.
Journey to back in time to Earth before it was all destroyed and apocalyptic.
Meet his grandparents and hang out with them.
I don't remember Mom saying Bobo was so cranky all the time though.
Discover Twinkies . . .
Mmm, Twinkies . . .
. . . and Zima.
Mmm, Zima.
And Daisy.
Mmm, Daisy.
She was still the prettiest, most awesome, most badass woman he had ever met.
He still wanted to put his mouth on her mouth and move it around alot.
I still can't believe I said that out loud. Painkillers are crazy.
But she still loved this dead Lincoln guy . . .
Didn't my mom say something about him having a tall hat or something?
. . . and she was convinced everyone she ever cared about would die . . .
Well, everybody dies eventually so I guess she's not technically wrong.
. . . and the rest of the gang seemed to disregard him anyway.
Except Nana. But she's busy saving the world.
. . . so he decided to go his own way.
Which was okay.
He had been doing it for most of his life after his falling out . . .
"I never want to be like you! I hate you!"
"You don't know what you're saying, Derek!"
. . . with Dad.
So he was alone and probably going to disappear from existence soon.
Which was okay because when he did he would be gone and wouldn't care anyway.
But right now he was alive and on a living Earth.
At a park.
And it was so cool.
Kids running and playing and shouting and laughing on the green grass.
Breathing fresh clean air.
The sky was blue and there were puffy white clouds up in it.
And people below.
Living, free people.
Women with little sleeping babies . . .
Man, they're everywhere now. Jeez. Like it's not a big deal at all. That lady's got three!
. . . and stumbling toddlers . . .
Careful! It might get hurt!
. . . men pushing kids on swings . . .
It's like they're flying. I gotta try that.
. . . and disconnected teenagers . . .
Seriously? You're acting like the sun isn't even there!
. . . on cellphones.
People running.
Is someone chasing you? Oh. No. You're just . . . okay.
Dogs trotting on leads.
Wow, that's so much better than the Roaches.
And of course, the branchy things . . .
Trees. They're called trees. I hugged one.
. . . were staying in their own assigned spots.
You stay there with your worms and bugs and stuff.
And there was just enough concrete for him to feel safe enough.
But not closed in, nope, nope.
So he was relatively happy.
Growl.
And hungry.
I wonder if I could find-
What. Is. That. Smell?
Good business so far that day.
Sunshine and warming weather tended to have that effect on people.
Made then want to leave the seclusion of their homes and venture out into the big, wide world.
Or at least their community park.
Jake Terrace liked his old-fashioned hot dog cart.
He liked to smile and chat with passersby.
Serve up a good old hot dog.
Topped with sauerkraut and chopped onions.
Or at least some pickles.
So when the grinning, slightly crazy-eyed guy greeted him . . .
"Hello, my good sir, I would like a hot dog, please."
. . . Jake amicably set down his newspaper under the money bin . . .
"Sure thing."
. . . and rose from his worn stool to engage him.
"Whaddaya want on it?"
The guy grinned big, like he was enjoying himself immensely.
Then his dopey expression under his spiky black hair faded somewhat.
"Uh . . . well . . . what do you have?"
Jake gestured with a slightly aged thickened hand.
"Well, we got Chicago style with pickles, onions, tomatoes, and green pepp-"
"What's that?" the kid interrupted curiously, pointing to a red bottle near Jake's elbow.
Jake tried to keep his expression blank.
"That's ketchup."
The kid made a slightly wary face.
"Naw, it looks like blood."
Jake chose to ignore this and continued his spiel.
"We got a Coney Island dog with chili, chopped onions, and cheddar chee-"
"What's that?"
Another bottle.
Jake paused, gathering his patience.
"That's mustard."
You high on somethin'?
"Oh. It looks like sunshine. Can I try some?"
Jake stone-facedly squirted some of the yellow condiment onto a plastic spoon and handed it over.
The guy stuck the spoon in his mouth and immediately reversed, grimacing.
"Eww, oh, that does not taste like sunshine. Do you have anything . . . delicious?"
Jake couldn't stop an annoyed eyebrow from raising.
Kid-
"Sorry," his hyperactive customer replied, looking acceptably apologetic. "I'm not from here."
Where are you from? The moon?
And Jake tried again.
"There's also Dodgers, with ketchup, mustard, onions, and-"
And once again, right on cue-
"What's that green stuff?"
"Relish."
"Can I try it?"
The relished dipped plastic spoon went into the scruffy, open maw.
And the guy's face lit up further.
"Ooh, that's tingly! I like that!"
Jake grinned.
We have a winner, ladies and gents.
"I'd like a hot dog with that on it, please!"
Another satisfied customer.
Jake nodded.
"Anything else? Onions, peppers?"
The guy shook his head decisively.
"Nope. Just that."
Jake nodded again.
You like what you like.
"You got it. That'll be three-fifty."
The guy stared at him dumbly for a second.
"Oh, yeah, right. Cash. I got it this time."
And forked over a fifty dollar bill from his pocket.
Oh come on, kid.
"You got a five in there so I don't have to break that fifty?"
The guy looked confused.
"Why would you break the paper? I-"
The exasperated look on the older man's face must have told the guy to close his mouth because he did.
Smiling awkwardly.
"Yeah, yeah, sure. Sorry."
Transaction completed, Jake set to work.
"One relish dog, coming up."
Tonging the steaming bun down onto the foil wrapping.
Hot dog out of the water.
Spooning up a liberal help of relish . . .
He seemed to really like it-
Napkin.
And, within seconds-
"Alright, guy, here you g-".
But he was gone.
And Jake found himself talking to thin air.
What?
He looked around, baffled.
Am I being punk'd?
He shuffled around around to the front of the stand, skimming the modest crowd for the kid.
Who seemed to be gone.
The cool spring breeze kicked up around him, a fluttering motion catching his eye.
He looked down and saw . . .
What the hell?
. . . the slightly crumpled fifty dollar bill caught under his shoe.
Who runs off without their money?
. . . caught under his shoe.
What is going on?
I just realised not only did Deke blink out of existence, he didn't even get his hotdog.
Damn you, Marvel!
;_;
Wait, I wrote this.
*muses*
Well, fudge cakes.
Anyway, thanks for reading!
Everyone appreciates feedback. Leave a review if you like. :)