black or white part II: black panther
The party at the lookout finally ended at 1 AM. The canines were all too lazy to walk back down to their houses, so they all crashed onto the large oversized bean bags that they had at the top of the lookout. As the dalmatian was dozing away next to his beloved husky, he began to experience a strange dream.
Marshall was walking in a New York-style street, late into the night. There was no moon; only a thick, blue fog that emanated from the streetlights. No human was out to roam it, except the dalmatian himself. As a can was kicked by a stray cat, Marshall jumped and ran over to a hidden alleyway, hiding out of fear. There was SOMETHING out here, and he didn't want to know what. A few moments later, a mysterious man began walking into the street. A man with a black set of jeans, black blazer, a white shirt underneath, a white arm sleeve and black loafers, all topped off with a signature black fedora. The man was not excessively tall, being only 5'9, but he still commanded attention, even though he might not have wanted it. The streets were wet and cold, and the wind started to howl. The man stood, letting his blazer fly like a cape. He stood still as the wind was picking up around him, street trash flying past him and leaves bristling away. His hands were on his hips, as Marshall began to fight the large gust of wind. He looked at the man at least 20 feet away from him. The man looked untouchable to the dalmatian, like nothing could possibly deter him. The man in the black fedora looked up, his black hair behind him. Marshall started taking a closer look, and felt something...familiar. He thought he saw that guy somewhere before, but could not get his paw on it. Suddenly, the man posed. His right foot was away from his body, as his left hand was pointing outward, with his hat tipped downward again. Marshall's heart began to beat out of his chest. His head started to sweat profusely. The dalmatian began to smile widely. It was him.
"Michael!" Marshall shouted, trying to get attention. The man froze out of pure nervous energy.
"Uhhhh...who is it? Show yourself!" Michael called out in his signature child-like voice. The dalmatian ran to him and looked up to him in awe. His heart was beating insanely fast as he was meeting his musical idol. "Awwww, a cute dog. What's your name?" Michael asked him with a grin.
"It's Marshall." The dalmatian smiled. The famed singer's eyes widened.
"Oh my goodness...a talking dog...what are the odds?" Michael laughed as he petted Marshall.
"So, what are you doing here?" Marshall inquired about him.
"I should be doing the same with you." Michael talked back with a confused expression.
"Soooo, I was walking down this street. I've never been here before, man. I was walking when I heard this cat kick a trash can, then I ran away. I then saw you walk into the street. Once I saw you hit that pose, I knew it was you." Marshall responded.
"I was walking home from a music video shoot, and I was happening to be walking in the middle of the street. That's where you must have found me. I've met and I love all my fans, but a talking, innocent, amazing dog like you is something I never expected." Michael grinned.
"Sooooo...can you show me your moves?!" Marshall blurted out excitedly as the fan-boy inside of him erupted. He never thought to see MJ this up close- and personal, and was wagging his tail to oblivion.
"Ok...stand back." The King of Pop instructed him. Marshall did as he was told, as the singer got to work. His feet were moving at light speed, going side to side like a tap-dancer. He spun around effortlessly and stomped in the middle of a puddle. Michael danced with his arms moving side to side, his feet moving along with him. The dalmatian was in a trance. Jackson's dancing was poetry in motion: he made everything look incredibly easy, but it took YEARS to nail his craft. Jackson shouted and stopped. "Show me what you got." Michael smirked.
"Really?! Ok, then...here I go...please don't slip…" Marshall said to himself, as he began to focus. He stood up on his hind legs and began to do Michael's signature move. He laid his paw on his crotch while bending his knees up and down.
"Oh, you're going for that move, huh?" The singer giggled.
"Yeah...that's not all." Marshall said with a cocky tone. He jumped onto the sidewalk. His feet started to move side to side, as he spun around effortlessly. The fire dog stopped. He stared at Michael before hitting the moonwalk with perfection. He ceased his efforts and extended his paws to say I did it.
"Wow...not bad for a dog like you." The King of Pop remarked as he clapped, petting his new friend.
"Yeah, my friends are actually better than me. I'm...pretty clumsy sometimes, so I'm surprised I'm still standing." The dalmatian admitted.
"No worries, Marshall. It takes practice. Lots and lots of it." Michael assured him. The singer started to dance again, shuffling his feet and spinning before breaking a liquor bottle with a forceful kick. He tossed his fedora off to the side before running next to a lone yellow car on the street. Michael spun around and faced two passenger windows on the right side. A forearm shiver shattered the first one. Yet another forearm shiver to the other.
"Stand BACK!" Michael shouted as he jumped onto the trunk of the car. A crowbar was conveniently placed there, and the dancer took advantage. He smashed the large back window with no regrets. Michael then jumped onto the hood of the car and glanced again to the dalmatian, who was standing in disbelief at what he was seeing. Michael Jackson was not a man of violence, and it was unnerving to him. Michael growled as he smashed the front window of the car with the same crowbar three times. After finishing his not-so-smooth criminal-like deed, Michael looked up to the sky and screamed once more.
"Why are you doing this, Michael?! I must know!" Marshall cried with worry. Michael stopped and jumped down to the street pavement below, where the dally was whimpering. The King of Pop sat next to him before leaning in close.
"Marshall, it's ok. I'm fine. Somedays, we humans have this animalistic desire to...rebel and act out against social norms. I feel like a large, black panther is inside of me...and he's ready to roar. Tonight is the night where the panther is on the prowl. You're not in any danger. Somedays, things don't go my way, and it happens to everybody. Which is why I bet you feel anger and anxiety sometimes. It's ok to feel that way." Michael said, feeling genuine emotion in his words. The singer then jumped back onto the car hood, and started to dance again, this time with much more feeling. He spread his arms wide and shouted with pride. He danced with his hand on his crotch, much more sensually than the last. Michael felt an animalistic presence, a big, brooding one thriving in his soul, as he jumped onto the front of the car. With the window broken just moments ago, he grabbed the steering wheel and chucked it into the front door of a building close by. Its window broke easily. Marshall began to dance himself, along with Michael, who jumped off the car. The dancer slapped his feet and zipped up his pants, his movement translating to the dalmatian next to him. The two ran to a set of trash cans next to an abandoned, closed up shop. Michael heaved a trash can at one of the display windows, shouting as he did so. Marshall felt...alive. He stood on all fours behind one of the cans and kicked one of them backwards with his hind legs, causing the large display window behind him to shatter. The duo ran off to a large vent in the sidewalk, which was blowing off hot steam underneath them. They both started dancing as the steam overtook them for at least a minute, feeling more energetic than ever.
"What do we do now?" Marshall asked his friend. Michael ignored him, and decided to let his actions do the talking. They both ran into the middle of the street, behind a large, neon electric sign that read Royal Arms Hotel. Marshall, along with Michael, spun around for at least 15 seconds before both hitting the pavement. Marshall stood on all fours, while Michael fell onto his knees into a puddle. Michael let out a cry of anguish as he ripped his white shirt. Marshall, who was right next to him, felt a need to let out all of his tension.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!" They both bellowed, ripping their souls to the night. Their shouts were so loud that the large sign behind them was producing tons of electric sparks, many flying around as the lights were explosively fading. It was a scene out of a Hollywood movie, as many sparks fell behind them, but they didn't care. They continued to wail, with Michael leaning back and Marshall howling to kingdom come. For a second, the shouting stopped. They both looked back and realized that the sign was literally fizzling out, electric sparks careening and falling around them. Marshall and Michael gazed at each other. They both nodded, knowing exactly what to do. The dalmatian stood up on his hind legs and put his paw around Michael's shoulder.
"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!" They both screamed to the top of their lungs once again. Michael felt the black panther growling all over his insides now, and Marshall never felt this rebellioushis entire life. They screamed louder than ever, causing the sign's lights to go out for the last time and fall over behind them, crashing to the sidewalk in a plume of smoke and electric mayhem. Michael looked behind him, and over his shoulder several times, as to see if anyone was around. All was silent as they started to walk away from the wreckage they both inadvertently caused.
"I have something I wanna tell you." Michael instructed carefully to the dalmatian.
"What is it, Michael?" Marshall asked, his puppyhood innocence returning to him at that very moment.
"I'm not like other guys." The King Of Pop admitted to him.
"Dude, no. You're literally the greatest singer ever! And you're a funny guy. I mean, you're awesome in every way." The fire dog reassured him.
"I mean it." Michael insisted. With that statement, the singer immediately went on all fours and shapeshifted into a black panther before Marshall's very eyes. The panther growled at the dalmatian menacingly.
"Woah, you're a black panther! That's so cool!" Marshall exclaimed in surprise as they both walked together away from the street. "You know, I thought you were dead...I completely forgot about that." The dally muttered. The black panther growled in a sort of questioning manner. "Yeah, you're right. It is 1991 after all." Marshall spoke, as he looked down at a wet newspaper underneath his paws with the date NOVEMBER 14, 1991 plastered onto it.
"Alright, everybody. Wake up." Ryder commanded. His arms were crossed, showing he was still upset from the night before. All of the pups woke up drowsily and groaned.
"What time is it, dude…" Zuma whined.
"It's 9 in the morning. I let you guys sleep in because I'm nice. You're all grounded for a week. Now, I have a job for all of you: go and clean up the broken mess in my room and fix everything. Rocky, you're leading the operation, got it?" The boy asked, pointing to the elevator.
"Yes, Ryder sir." All of the canines groaned as they got up, stretched their limbs and went to the elevator.
"Don't worry, I'll just have us use my truck to go down there.. It's very good for cleaning messes." Rocky insisted.
"It better be, because I don't wanna clean shit." Rubble complained.
"You're not the only one who's pissed off, dude." Marshall huffed to the bulldog.
"And why's that, Debby Downer?" Rubble sighed.
"I had this amazing dream and Ryder woke me up. I was dancing with Michael Jackson! In the flesh! We were out in the middle of the street at night, dancing. Like this." The dally explained, as he hit Michael's signature move: the hand on the crotch.
"That's actually a good impression." Everest smiled.
"Nah, he tweakin'." Zuma grinned.
"Serioriously, what does that even mean?! I've heard Danny say that so many times yesterday when he was skateboarding." Skye asked.
"No idea...but it's pretty funny..." The lab sighed, as nobody understood the joke.
"Wait, I thought MJ died." Chase wondered aloud.
"Me and Mike were running around the neighborhood breaking shit, we were sreaming, then MJ turned into a black panther. Legit. Then I woke up when Ryder was yelling at us...it sounded a lot better in my head, didn't it?" Marshall spoke awkwardly, staring blankly into space as the elevator landed on the ground floor.
"Yes. Yes, it did." All seven pups agreed simultaneously as they walked out grudgingly to do a couple hours of free repair service.
Ok, then...that's my weird-ass tribute to Jackson there. Anyways, I thank you for reading this story, as I put a lot of effort into each and it means the world to me as you enjoy them. Oh my god, a bunch of stuff has happened in the last few days. And yes, I had to include a Lil Nas X refrence. BECAUSE MONTERO IS COMING OUT IN 3 WEEKS AND I AM SO EXCITED. And that dumb comment has been everywhere...it's crazy. Like, bro...Certified Lover Boy? Get out of the way, Drake. I'm still excited for CLB though, it's just that Lil Nas is WAY BETTER. Me and my sister love him with no regrets...and most of my family is conservative LMAO. The Brewers are still leading the NL Central with just a month to go in the regular season...hope they can win a couple more good games. The Packers are playing their first regular season game in just 2 weeks in New Orleans...man, I feel bad for those people down there. Same with Afghanistan, man. Just sad situations over there, no matter where your beliefs are or where you come from.
Anyways, depressing stuff out of the way, my next story will hopefully come on September 8th or 9th. On that date...we're gonna blue skidoo, my friends... - mitch :)