This is a crazy story a friend wrote for me. It’s about CoCo being a dog model on Fiverr! As if that weren’t bad enough, she made CoCo a girl dog in the story! Sheesh. Obviously, she is a very creative writer. Anyway, here it is, all 1600 words of it.
From the moment the door closes, everything is basked in melancholy. Just hearing Rebecca leave, making out the sound of the wooden door frame settling into it’s grooves, are enough for Coco. Suddenly, every moment she encounters is flamboyantly stretched, a second is transformed into a year, a minute is a decade, and an hour is a century.
Her tail stiffens, settling against the carpet, idly waiting for her owner’s arrival. Coco’s jutting tongue no longer protrudes from her mouth, but is now concealed between her sharp dagger-like fangs. Subtle whimpers are omitted from the Pomeranian’s mouth, her jaw clamps shut.
Approaching the closed door, she outstretches a gentle, shaking paw. Coco makes contact with the wood, and then slams her frail body against it’s surface. Suddenly, her gentle cries, are transformed into monstrous barks, pleading for Rebecca. It has only been a minute, and the task of staying alone without love is growing, dauntingly.
Her barking is the only noise that fills the house, each shriek a desperate moan for her mother, her human mother that is. Without warning, there is another sound, one that has occupied the house all along, but one never noticed by Coco. It is undistinguishable. Coco’s furry ears perk up, tightening and pointing toward the ceiling.
The puppies warm pants intwined with nasally implores to not be so lonely, are stifled. Curiosity, washes through Coco, and she steps forward, her claw stomping against the carpet toward the noise.
The large house no longer seems so empty, and the puppy knows she is not alone, she is accompanied by something, something whirring in the distance. White noise, is all that fills her mind as she stalks closer to the sound, her cute face contorted into one of confusion. “Curiosity killed the cat,” her mind says to her, more so barks to her. “I hate cats,” she thinks back, disregarding the thought completely.
After being prodded forward by the sound, she is able to identify it’s location. It is being played through the door before her. A slanted piece of wood barely creaked open. Depositing her paw in between the crack, she struggles to open the entry but does so nonetheless. As the door, opens revealing the room behind it, Coco knows exactly the room she’s in, she also know’s it’s forbidden.
Rebecca’s work room, piled high with an array of various plates, her owner had been to lazy to put away. Glasses, and china are stacked precariously, and she sees how much of a slob her owner really is.
Coco hesitantly steps into the room, deliberating whether it is worth it, knowing that Rebecca will distrust her if she ever finds out. This is the forbidden room, the one where she is not permitted to be. What kind of loyalty is this? Her owner feeds her, serves her, grooms her, and she betrays Rebecca like this. However, Coco feels betrayed herself, from the second that her “pawrent,” exited the house, she had felt an unmistakable loathing, still masked in love, though.
Still considering retreating from her noise operation, she sees what is causing it. A machine whirring distantly, and stenciled upon its white articulated surface, an apple symbol is neatly written, followed by the word computer. What does it mean, is computer the name of this foreign machine? Is this machine safe? These are questions loosely jumbled in Coco’s mind. She speculates each of them, and approaches the “computer,” determined to learn it’s true purpose. Before she is aware, she sits beside it, standing disfigured on the chair, nervously trying to position herself so she doesn’t fall off.
Coco can now examine the technology further, sitting directly horizontal to it is a circular piece of technology, a twisty wire connecting to the “computer.” Upon its surface is another apple logo, and then the word “mouse.” It looks nothing like the mouses Coco knows, the ones she knows occasionally scuttle around the floor, and she likes to play with them.
It is only once Rebecca installed mouse traps, that the population of mouse decreased. There is still one mouse in the house, and it is in front of her, and it is a machine. Coco leaps forward, splaying her claws against the “mouse.”
In a moment’s notice the computer screen flashes on, shining a golden beam of light out, and providing Coco with a website called Fiverr. Fiverr is foreign to her like the computer and mouse, so the Pomeranian starts pressing random buttons, clicking them under her weight.
Add a Gig, a green button displays and she uses the mouse contraption to click out. Coco follows a various assortment of random steps, filling out her profile picture into her own face. It is easy, after maneuvering the device for a period of time. Coco has mastered it and she is clicking specific options, creating a gig. A wonderful gig, I’ll hold signs she types.
Her tail once stiff, from Rebecca’s departure is wagging energetically, swiping in quick slashes at the floor. Her tongue now protrudes from her mouth, sloppily spewing slobber across the desktop.
1 order, a notification reads, and in a spiritual way, Coco understands. She realizes the sheer tenacity that this program Fiverr, brings out. She evaluates that the people of Fiverr are a team, that even is Rebecca is gone, on Fiverr she will never be lonely.
The little Pomeranian understands this all, not neglecting the power to bring people together Fiverr brings. In a way, Coco is more human, understanding the fundamental principle of wanting to share, wanting to be with more people on the internet.
Being the only dog on Fiverr, Coco rounded in thousands of purchasers, unlike most newcomers who lived in the barrenness of Fiverr, while the starkness of no orders ate away at them, she got people far and wide. They all bought her gig, knowing that some owner was probably getting her to do this, yet no one was, she was on her own. Pleasuring users of all type, Coco enjoyed what she was doing immensely.
Each person she held a sign for she admired their profile pictures, collected their gigs, and while it sounds ridiculous, she knew exactly what she was doing. The piece of machinery, she staked out to find was no longer a foreign creature writhing in the distance, it was a tool.
Coco was transfixed by the website, in awe of all her buyers. When the door opened again, and the imminent sound of jingling keys approached, she was drenched in fear. Coco was in the forbidden room, the work room, she wasn’t allowed in here. Coco lashed out, hitting the power key, narrowly avoiding slipping off the chair she plopped off, jiggling her scruffy body to the door.
She slipped out of the door, making sure to close it on her way out. Not wasting time, Coco sprinted down the hall, finding her bed and then resting on it, laying down and pretending to sleep.
Rebecca came in to see her and suspected nothing.
Fourteen days later, Rebecca checked her PayPal, it was a common thing to do for her, as she was quite paranoid of cyber hackers and identity thieves. Her fear resigned, as shock crippled her. The computer read that she had an additional 100,000 dollars on her account.
Generosity poured through her, and she felt inclined to sing. Behind the wall of happiness was mass confusion, but she didn’t wonder she was just grateful. Rebecca’s sister had lung cancer, and couldn’t pay for her chemotherapy. Rebecca who had always loved her sister, was not rich herself, and could barely put
enough food on the table for her and Coco. Every week Rebecca left, and visited her sister praying with her, clasping her sister’s hand in her’s saying it was going to be okay.
The doctor’s said without chemotherapy there was a limited chance of survival, almost none. Guilt always got Rebecca, the horrific and gruesome thought that when her sister died it would all be on her hands. She knew it was not her responsibility to pay for her treatment, but the thought would always chew away at her.
She tried getting multiple jobs, joining various careers, still not providing enough for her sister’s therapy. It was then at this moment, her eyes scanning her PayPal account that she knew she had enough. 100,000 dollars had to be enough. The hospital room was bleak and bleary, the patient was stretched across the
operating table, wheezing. She was tall and beautiful, her brown hair crested back around her ears.
Rebecca entered the room, immediately making out the beeping of a machine in the distance. She knelt beside the curled figure. “I can pay for your treatment.” She whispered tears slipping down her cheeks, escaping her eyes. “Your gonna be okay, your gonna be okay.” While Rebecca was out cradling her dying sister who now had a chance of survival, Coco was back in the forbidden room, holding up a sign.