Credits: Original author is Игорян (or .3), whole story will be translated from Russian to English.
Translator's notes: Long story short - this fic was deleted but was brought back to the site ficbook. But I still wanted to translate it, just with some minor differences.
So, to Igor: I'm glad I helped and thanks for bringing it back!
Anyway, in other words - when the original author of this fic posts new chapters, I'll translate them too. You'll probably see this fic updated a bit more often...hopefully. And don't worry, I haven't forgotten about the other NfH fics. It's just not easy to come up with new ideas while I'm busy or just plain lazy. Though it's a bit more easy translating, even if my Russian language is rusty.
Sorry for the long note... I'll leave you to your reading.
Mr. Roger Rottweiler, wearing his usual shrunken tanktop and trousers, got out of bed and went to the kitchen.
On his way, he smiled at his whimpering dog and pat its head. He got sandwiches from the refrigerator, and put them in the microwave.
*Tick, tick, tick* he pressed three buttons to set the timer.
While the sandwiches are heating, Roger was looking out the window. After about five minutes, the microwave made a *Ding!* sound. After taking out the food, the neighbour sat down at the table and began to eat greedily.
Meanwhile, Woody woke up and did some shadow boxing. Then he changed to his sweater and jeans.
He went to the bathroom to brush his teeth, combed his stylish hair and smiled at himself in the mirror. Afterwards, he went to have breakfast, which was much more nutritious than his neighbour's. It consisted of muesli with milk, orange juice and biscuits.
Through the thin walls of Woody's house, he clearly hears all the words and thoughts of his neighbour.
"How's this flippity possible?" the fatso mumbled whilst eating "I've done nothing wrong, but he...Ooh, that freaking little stinker! Whatever! I'm going to get a job, then maybe I'll finally get a rest! Now where the frig's my newspaper? Ah, here it is!"
Roger put his greasy finger on the very first ad.
"So it's that office, huh? Okay..." he turned the page and wrote down the phone number, and went to the hall.
"Hullo? Yeah, it's Roger Rottweiler talking. I'd like to apply for a job to your company. And it says on your ad that you have a good reputation, right? Great!"
'And my neighbour is oh-so-dumb!' Woody guffawed, eating his breakfast 'He thinks, he can escape from my vengeance? Nope! Now it's time to give Joe a call...'
And the prankster got his mobile phone and dialed Joe's number.
"Hi, Joe! There's a little case to take care of. Well, Rottweiler got a job to some company. Maybe you and the camera crew could film another series. "
"Woody, you're a comedy genius! We'll be on our way!" said director Joe cheerfully.
Roger will surely have the worst days yet again.