A/N: Hey guys, thanks for the idea of doing this. I have been meaning to do more stories based on my drawings, so thanks.
Mr. Peabody ran through his office penthouse, grabbing all the scattered paper that had fell of his desk and have now littered the floor. The poor beagle had to sign the new document sent to him by the UN, he had to fill a contract with a hospital, and he had to create a list of resources.
Today was especially busy for the dog, as he tumbled around with the papers. He reached out for a pen, but found a pencil. What happened to his pen? He just set it down on his desk a minute ago.
Just then, the phone rang, stopping his small search of the pen. He reached over to pick it up, but accidentally hit speakerphone, making the booming voice of the US Marshal to boom in his sore ears.
"PEABODY! WHERE'S THE STEALTH FIGHTER PLAN!?" asked the Marshal. In all respect, the man hardly ever yelled at the beagle. However, the speakerphone had a different perspective as the volume was raised to ear bleeding volume.
"Right on the way Mr. Buckmin." Peabody replied as he grabbed the pen that had rolled behind the office's flower pot that was across the office. He then set to work filling out mails and files as he signed the stack. "It is on delivery as we speak."
"WHY IS YOUR VOICE HOARSE!?" Buckmin asked. Peabody hadn't realized it, but his voice was hoarse. It strained for him to breathe as well. This was nothing, he thought. It's probably from all the phone calls he had. He messaged his neck to find it sore even when he smoothed it with his paw.
"It doesn't matter." Peabody said out loud to the Marshal. "The plan should be there anytime today."
"GOOD! IT'S AN HONOR!" Buckmin boomed before the line was cut off, and silence entered the room again. Peabody messaged his temple trying to relax his stressed brain. This was odd, why is head throbbing? Peabody then looked down to realize that his pen had trailed off the paper and had streaked the desk with black lines.
The clock then rang a warning signal, telling the beagle that it was time for him to pick up Sherman from school. This brought a huff of relief from the beagle. He didn't want to be cooped up inside the office any longer.
He jumped down from his chair and hurried down to the penthouse garage. He inhaled and exhaled rapidly, feeling tired from the run from the office, toward the elevator, and all the way to his mope.
He opened the garage and took a big whiff of fresh air that ran through his fur as the city came into his view. He buckled his helmet and rode off toward Susan B. Anthony where Sherman awaited him.
A/N: We all know where this is going.