“Kids these days,” her mom used to say, before her family cut ties with her, when she was a sad, sullen teenage girl curled around the bluish glow of her computer screen. “All their friends are online.”
Hello again warpers, and welcome to another installment of Peabody’s Probably Adoption Process! I can’t believe so many people are following this. You guys are awesome!
Anyway, in this one-shot I wanted to interpret the state home where Sherman would’ve stayed in those months the courts were processing Peabody’s adoption request. Also, just to clarify for future reference: the stories in this series don’t follow any particular chronological order. These drabbled are linked by the trials Peabody faced when he adopted Sherman, but that’s about it. I don’t really have a cohesive narrative in mind.
With that said, please enjoy!
p.s.- I highly recommend you listen to the song “Feels Like Home” by Josh Groban before or after reading this. The song pretty much describes Peabody and Sherman’’s relationship to a tee and was a major source of inspiration for this drabble.
*Knock knock knock* Peabody knocked purposefully on the large dilapidated door, carefully readjusting the small book he held under one arm.
The small dog rocked impatiently on the balls of his paws as he stood on the weathered stone steps of The HardRock orphanage. A crisp autumn breeze blew through the alley, kicking up the various pieces of discarded trash that lined the streets of the shady neighborhood. Drawing his jacket and the book closer, Peabody winced as the acrid smell of cigarette butts hit his nose. “Delightful,” he muttered sarcastically to himself as he saw one of the offending objects carried off in the breeze, its smell lingering far longer than he’d like.
Since finding Sherman and vowing to adopt him, Peabody had visited the HardRock orphanage frequently. Unfortunately Sherman was still deemed a ward of the state by the courts and would remain so unless he won custody. However, that did not mean the dog couldn’t visit with his boy. Peabody was allotted two visits per week and he fully intended to make the most if his limited time.
That is, if someone would open the door. Tapping his foot impatiently on the stoop, Peabody frowned in annoyance. He knew they were in there. Through the door his ears could make out the muffled chaos of scrambling children as they tromped through the house. Really, he was well aware what the orphanage matriarch, Mrs. Hamish, thought of him, but if she thought she could just ignore his legal right to visitation then-
Suddenly, the beagle jumped in alarm as a loud crash sounded on the other side of the door, leaving an unsettling silence in its wake. It was followed by the sound of rushing footsteps. “WHAT DID I TELL YOU BRATS ABOUT RUNNING IN THE HOUSE!?” A shrill shout cut through Peabody’s ear drums. More footsteps sounded and the dog leapt out of the way just in time as the door was suddenly thrown open.