Hotel Scenes from the Velvet Paw of Asquith Novels

Chapter 6

From When Fear Is Not Afraid, Chapter 18

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In which Oscar tries to have breakfast in the sort of hotel that has difficulty spelling the word, before noticing some framed sick on a wall.

With a sigh, Oscar struggled out of bed, amazed he'd been able to sleep at all, considering the thing was so lumpy that it didn't need a pillow—which was fortunate, as its pillow was even lumpier. After donning a fresh pair of pantaloons and fluffing them into the sort of thing often seen hanging in warm summer skies, he headed downstairs for breakfast, with the word used so loosely, that it had already fallen, tumbled to the bottom of them and was waiting for him by the reception desk covered in bruises. The hotel was not the sort of place he'd order a hot-fin, let alone a meal of food. If it did make hot-fin it would presumably contain lumps so large that it would be better suited to sealing up some of the more draughty gaps in its walls. When he arrived in the lobby, he suspected the closest he might get to breakfast would be the carpet, as it appeared to have had several such meals brought up on it over the years, with the apparent conviction that leaving them there helped its adherence to the floor. While two patrons argued with the dog behind the counter, Oscar feigned indifference by admiring a small print upon the wall nearby. It was only after the patron snatched the newspaper from the blasé paws of the insufferable animal that Oscar realised it was not a print at all, but congealed sick. Because the argument became heated and involved threats of unconventional stapler use, he admired it nonetheless.

The two patrons stormed from the counter and strode toward the rickety stairs, before thumping up them until their paws broke through its wood-wormed planks. While they swore and struggled to free themselves, the insufferable dog rounded the counter to retrieve his newspaper from where it had been thrown. With admirable indifference, he scanned it while returning to the desk and advising the necessary repairs would be billed to their room. Ignoring their yelps and cries for rope, Oscar stepped to the reception desk, determined not to be riled a second time. "Good morning," he said, regretting the niceties. "I was wondering if you do breakfast here?"

As he had the previous evening, the dog ignored Oscar and scanned the paper as proof its contents were far more interesting. When Oscar asked again, the dog did reply, though with an answer so ambiguous it would have benefitted from its own question mark.

"Sometimes," the dog said, without looking up.

When nothing more was forthcoming, Oscar tried prompting him without using a clenched paw. "Can you be a little more specific?"

It was evident he could not.

Oscar took hold of the desk again. "Perhaps you didn't understand the question: I was wondering whether you do breakfast here."

There was a slow turning of page. "Sometimes."

Oscar had been through a lot over the past few days, and wouldn't be surprised to learn he was about to go through a great deal more. Consequently, he was not in the mood for insufferable, self-righteous animals whose smugness had evolved solely to prevent them acknowledging their own inadequacies.

He took a deep breath and asked a third time, "Might sometime be now, perhaps?"

"No," said the dog. "I had breakfast earlier."

Oscar blinked several times. "I meant breakfast for patrons. Not you."

"Then why didn't you say so?"

"Because I didn't think you were so pedantic."

The dog looked up from his paper. "And I didn't think you were so stupid."