Chaos Walking Childhood One Shots

Todd - Manchee Learns to Talk

I've always liked dogs okay, they roam around town now and again when they ain't got nothing else to do.
Must be easy being a dog.
Ain't gotta do no chores, cooking, cleaning, or work of any kind. Just run around and play, nip at people's feet, and chatter away about nothing in particular.
I didn't think much of 'em before I got my own, which I've decided to call Manchee.
Manchee's just a few months old, but he's a real riot with the other boys in town. Sometimes I think they're happier to see him than me.
He don't talk properly yet, just makes random doggy sounds when he deems appropriate and when everyone else deems unnecessary.

"He's got something!"
Reg Oliver is crouching by Manchee in the swamp, and the other boys and I are close behind.
We all listen close to the Noise of the swamp now that Manchee's fur is all prickled up and excited. He's growling a little bit, which don't mean much in the way of words but it means he hears something so we all shut up and listen.
There's the usual swamp Noise, the birds and squirrels in the field outside, and-
Manchee takes off thru the clearing.
"Go!"
Reg jumps up with Seb Mundy and Liam Smith at his side. We're the only boys left in Prentisstown, so before the real work starts, we spend most of our time hunting with Manchee.
"Y'all are gonna scare it off!" I yell after them, but I chase the dog and whatever he's found anyway.
Manchee's barking his head off somewhere by the water, and I hear the other boys whooping their praises at him.
I get there in time to see Manchee pick up a dead water weasel in his mouth.
He jogs over to me, wagging his tail, and drops the thing at my feet.
He barks a plain bark.
"What am I supposed to do?" I ask, knowing from experience that if I try to pick it up Manchee'll growl and take it away.
I reach down and pet him anyway, and once he stops jumping, he shoves his head into my hand so I can scratch harder.
"Look at this thing!" Seb calls as he picks up the weasel. Manchee is too happy to care.
"Those bite real hard," Liam says, recalling a memory of himself being bitten after chasing one into the water. I guess it's supposed to make Manchee's kill all the more impressive.
"You okay, boy?" I whisper when I know the others ain't listening. I try to act like I don't care for the dog cuz he's a real idiot sometimes and I never wanted him in the first place, but the more I'm with him the more he's starting to rub off on me.
I guess he ain't so bad.
"Okay," Manchee barks into my hand.
I freeze.
The other boys freeze too.
There's a second where no one says anything, we just look at each other with the same asking in our heads.
Manchee perks up all of a sudden, surprised at our surprise and getting more excited by the second.
And there it goes, the last quiet moment of my life.
"Okay!" He barks again, running in circles around himself and making all kinds of Noise I didn't even know he could make.
"No way!" The other boys laugh and chase around him. "Manchee's talking!"
I just sit all the way on the ground, eyes wide.
Oh, no.
"Todd! Todd!" Manchee bounds over to me and jumps into my lap to lick my face, then he's off again to get attention from someone who'll give it to him.
My dog is talking.
Manchee can talk.
And he's been listening to me all this time, learning my name and my friends' names and Ben and Cillian's names, and all of our business, which I'm really about to regret, you see.

"How long has he been doing that?" Ben asks at dinner that night as Manchee begs for food under the table.
"Since this afternoon," I say, showing him what happened with the boys in the swamp.
"I see," Ben says, not looking away from the dog who is whining, "Manchee?"
"I guess he took his name well," Cillian says to me, which is supposed to be a compliment for choosing a good one. I just raise my eyebrows at him and look back under the table, which I immediately regret cuz now Manchee think's he's getting something.
I shake my head at him and he waddles off toward Cillian's legs.
"I hope y'all haven't said nothing important around him," I say. "He'll probably never shut up about it if he stays as loud as he's been all day."
"Manchee!" He barks again as he hears me talk about him, proving my point.
Ben just laughs.
"Well, we were expecting that at some point or another," he says, getting back to his dinner like this is all normal.
Which it's supposed to be, I guess.
"I'd be more worried about money lately," Cillian changes the subject as casual as he can. "I ain't never had to pay so much for something like lettuce at Mr. Phelps's shop..."
And I don't care much about money cuz I don't make much on the sheep and I don't got much to spend it on. So I just bend down and pet Manchee to see if he'll leave us alone.
"The man's a real git, I'll tell you," Cillian continues.
"Don't," Ben interrupts, warning in his Noise. But there goes the dog anyway.
"Git! Git!"
I just stare back up at Cillian blank-faced as Manchee takes the word and makes it his own.
"Look what you did," I say, humor in my Noise so he don't get mad at me for blaming him.
"Git ain't a bad word," he shrugs, working hard to keep a handful of much worse insults out of his Noise.
"You think I'm gonna walk him thru town with his new favorite word coming out every two seconds?" I ask, trying not to laugh as Manchee wanders off to who knows where.
"He ain't gonna do nothing," Cillian rolls his eyes at Ben's look of disappointment.
"You wanna bet?" I challenge.
Cillian laughs, "Yer on. I hear one word this week about that dog saying something stupid in public and I'll give you a twenty."
"No you won't."
"Swear it," Cillian says, holding out a confident hand. I stare at it for a second, but I take it.
"Your loss, not mine."
But Cillian just shrugs again.

I don't feel half as bad walking thru town with money on the line. Ben thinks it's stupid, but hey, Cillian and I can have fun too sometimes.
Cillian also reckons the price of lettuce or whatever he's upset about will go down if a boy goes to fetch it, not to mention the youngest boy in Prentisstown.
So I'm being used and I still gotta take Manchee with me everywhere, but there's competition in my Noise and I'm not thinking about getting into trouble.
And of course there's always someone that's gotta challenge that confidence.
Mr. Hammar is in the shop when I get there, and I greet Mr. Phelps like normal as I head to see how bad the lettuce is.
I'm making a selection that would probably please Cillian and taking it up front when Mr. Hammar steps right in my way to pretend to look at cigarettes. 
I clench my fists and try not to think about where he can shove those cigarettes as I take a longer walk to avoid him. The many joys of rerouting in the store gets Manchee excited.
Again.
"Going, Todd!"
"Yep, we're heading home soon."
Manchee sits and licks himself as he mumbles about home and I pay for the lettuce.
"Gettin' awfully chatty that dog of yers, ain't he?" Mr. Phelps laughs.
"Yes sir," I fake a laugh.
"You know what, Todd," Mr. Phelps stares down at the lettuce for a quick second, thinking hard, "I don't think I'm gonna make you pay that much. Hang on a second."
(Well, check that out.)
I watch Mr. Hammar slowly make his way out of the store, which I know I'm gonna have to deal with later.
Mr. Phelps finishes his discount, and I take the lettuce and my dog and head back into town.
"Don't you got bigger men at home to do the town work for you?" Mr. Hammar calls to me as I pass him.
I sigh, but I don't quit walking.
"They're busy, I'm doing this today."
"Well hey there," Mr. Hammar's Noise changes.
I turn to see Manchee trotting off in his direction, looking for attention.
(Are you effing kidding me-)
"Manchee," I call uselessly, but he's dead set on getting pet by Mr. Hammar now that they can talk together.
And how do I explain to a dog that Mr. Hammar ain't friendly when the man is standing right there?
I got no choice but to walk after him and make sure nothing happens.
"How long's he been talking?" Mr. Hammar asks all fake-excited, dragging out my bad mood as long as he can.
"He's just talking," I say plainly, "it ain't like he's handing out drugs."
Mr. Hammar glares at me and I glare back, pressing his buttons since he's making me stick around.
"C'mon Manchee, let's get home."
I turn to leave, and Manchee finally follows me.
"Someone's gotta teach you how to hold your tongue, boy," Mr. Hammar calls after me again.
I ignore him, but something about the scolding gets Manchee's gears turning again and all of a sudden he's yelling out, "Git!"
I turn around to smack him on the rear, but I get a half glance at Mr. Hammar's face and I remember Cillian's bet and then I'm laughing before I can stop myself. I put a hand to my mouth and try to turn it into a cough, but there's no way he didn't notice and now I can't look away from him.
"You think that's funny, do ya?" He asks, getting stormy and coming closer. "You teachin' yer dog to say those words to me?"
"No," I say stupidly, cuz he can see in my Noise that I just won a bet for it.
"That's right," he says, low and dangerous.
I give him a quick nod and head home with my dog a little faster than before, keeping the laugh outta my Noise as best I can.

Later that night, I point to the lettuce on the counter for Cillian.
"That'll be twenty dollars," I say.
"What the hell?" Cillian stops in his tracks. "The price went up to twenty?"
But I just sit and stare back at him, and Manchee's on the floor with his tongue out and tail wagging. Happy and clueless.
And then Cillian gets it.
"Mr. Phelps don't know what I said, does he?" He asks, shifting a little where he stands.
"No, but Mr. Hammar does."
"Shut up," Cillian laughs in disbelief.
I just laugh back and step outside to feed the sheep dinner, taking my victory and my chatty dog with me.