Better Plans

Pint of beer illustration

“I’ve seen pictures – they’re beautiful!”

Ant sighed as he waited for his friend to the finish the phone call.

“Well their mother looks incredible, so it’s no surprise, really.”

It was always the same; he met Dylan “for a few drinks,” paid for the first round, and sat listening to half a conversation while his friend wittered to somebody else over the phone.

“Nah, I’ll be there, mate. No chance I’m missing out on that.”

Inevitably, as Ant sank the dregs of his glass, Dylan would finish his call and insist that he had to be off somewhere else. And that somewhere usually involved him getting laid.

“Seven girls, three boys? Holy shit! I am not going to be able to keep my hands off them.”

Ant raised his eyebrows. Well, he couldn’t blame his mate; it certainly sounded like he had more exciting options available.

“Alright, pal. I’ll see you in half an hour or so, yeah?” said Dylan. He hung up, then tipped the foamy remains of his pint down his gullet.

“You’re off, then?” Ant said.

“I am, mate. Sorry. Places to be and all that. But you’re welcome to come along?”

Ant considered it briefly, then shook his head. “Seven girls and three boys – doesn’t really sound like my cup of tea.”

Dylan frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

“If it was just the girls I’d think about it. But you know I’m not into guys.”

Dylan cackled. “They’re puppies, mate! I’m off to see a litter of puppies. Jesus, did you really think I was off to hook up with ten people?”

“You said you wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off them!”

“Because they’re adorable! Little Labradoodles. They look like fucking teddy bears.”

Ant stared at him. “Actual puppies? Like, tiny dogs? Not boobs?”

Dylan shook his head. “Not boobs.”

Ant took this in with a nod. “You know what,” he said with a sad smile, “somehow I’m disappointed.”

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