This is Daisy’s morning-after-the-piggyback-ride scene. It’s rough, but fun. Please notice and adore Squash - she’ll be back with her own dedicated post soon.

When Daisy woke up, Gracie had already gotten Bailey - between their morning walks and the fact that Gracie allowed Bailey to hang out in their shared courtyard while Daisy was at work, Gracie was officially The Best Landlady Ever. Since Bailey was taken care of, Daisy was able to get to her hangover cure swiftly and efficiently - two 8 oz. glasses of water, two Advil, one warm, not hot, shower. It wasn’t until she’d gotten dressed (T-shirt, dark jeans, and Keds, which didn’t have heels to break) that Daisy realized she hadn’t actually felt that hungover.

As a matter of fact, she felt pretty damn good. As she walked across campus, the sun shot warmth into her bones and the smell of the fresh mown grass made her feel almost giddy; by the time she pulled open the heavy oak door of the Humanities Building, she was actually humming, which was an uncharacteristically cheerful thing for her to do this early in the morning.

Can’t have anything to do with that piggyback ride, a voice inside her teased.

“Oh, shut up,” she whispered to herself, feeling warmth in her cheeks as she tossed her purse underneath the desk in her cubicle.

“Oh, Daisy, thank God you’re here!”

It’s a record, my ass hasn’t even hit the seat yet, Daisy thought, as the tell-tale sounds of Marigold’s muffled high-heels clunked across the cheap, gray berber carpet popular with universities and mental institutions worldwide.

“Morning, Marigold.” Daisy plucked the middle pencil out of the bun at the back of her head - two were for the hair, one was for pretending to take down ridiculous suggestions from the Humanities Chair - and grabbed a 4×6 yellow legal pad off the neat pile on the front left corner of her desk.

“Daisy, what happened?” Marigold asked, her eyes wide.

Daisy paused, pencil in the air. Usually, Marigold started the day by asking questions like, “Is there any way you can get the website to read all the professors’ minds and enter the grades for them?” This was an unusual tactic. When Marigold didn’t elaborate, Daisy lowered her pencil.

“What happened where?”

Marigold rolled her eyes and gestured toward Daisy’s computer. “The website! Haven’t you seen it?”

Daisy’s heart seized and she jiggled her mouse, waking her computer. “Oh, Christ. Did it get hacked again?”

“I don’t know,” Marigold said. “Most of it looks fine. But all the professor bios have gone wonky.”

Daisy double-clicked her web browser and shot Marigold a look. “The professor bios? I just updated them yesterday.”

“I know,” Marigold said. “I thought you had. So I went in this morning to make sure you’d made the changes I’d sent you, but look.”

The web browser launched to the department website, and Daisy navigated to Marigold’s bio.

“It’s all gobbledygook,” Marigold said, and Daisy had to agree. Somehow, between yesterday and this morning, Marigold’s bio had turned from regular text to a bunch of random characters, some of which Daisy didn’t readily recognize.

“That’s strange,” Daisy said, clicking quickly through four of the other bios she’d done yesterday. All the same. Then she clicked on one she hadn’t gotten to the day before; it was fine. “Well, crap. Must be something I did. But what…?”

“Well,” Marigold said, straightening, “it’s okay for mine, because I rewrote it again anyway. Also, I was also wondering if it’s possible to have the website–”

“You know what?” Daisy said, standing up suddenly. “I need some coffee first. Can I get some coffee first? Then meet you in your office?”

Marigold smiled. She was demanding and a right pain in the ass, but reasonable. “Absolutely. I’ve got a class at ten, though, so–”

“I’ll hurry.” Pencil clutched tight in her hand, Daisy headed down the hall toward the kitchen, her mind buzzing over what she could have possibly done to screw up those bios. When she’d put them live on the site yesterday, they’d been fine… hadn’t they? She remembered checking them and re-checking them before putting them up…

She was so preoccupied that she had filled her mug without realizing there was someone else in the kitchen, and jumped a bit when a breathy, high-pitched voice behind her said, “Good morning, Daisy!”

Oh, dear God in– “Morning, Tallie,” she said, turning around to face Tallie McIntyre, the department secretary, and her Doberman-Beagle mix, Squash, who was lying under the table at Tallie’s feet. “How’s it going?”

Tallie stirred her orange juice with a stir stick and tapped it one, two, three times on the edge of her glass before putting it gently on the table. “Oh, everything’s great, thank you so much for asking! I’ve just started this new powder multi-vitamin supplement and I feel ten years younger!” She smiled up at Daisy, her eyes reduced to narrow beams of light under the pressure from her chipmunk cheeks. “The powders are so fabulous because they get in your bloodstream faster, your stomach doesn’t have to work so hard like when digesting those big horse pills. Right?” Tallie giggled breathily, then sobered a bit. “Although, pills are great, too. I will never argue against pills, as long as you remember to take them in smaller doses every eight hours so that your body gets what it needs on a regular basis. Happy body, happy mind, happy Daisy, right?”

Daisy tried to decide which was the lesser of her two evils, Tallie or Marigold. Tallie won by a hair, mostly because she wouldn’t ask Daisy if it would be possible to program the website to pick up her dry-cleaning.

“Right.” Daisy took a sip of her coffee and leaned back against the counter. “So… how’s Squash?”

“Oh, she’s doing fine, thank you so much for asking. Feeling much better.” She leaned away from the table and angled her head down at Squash, taking on the smoochy tone people get when talking to very small children. “Aren’t you, baby? Diarrhea all gone now, baby?” Tallie raised her head and resumed her normal speech for Daisy. “Poor sweetheart, was just squirting like a water balloon all last night. We had to miss our obedience class and everything…”

“Obedience class?” Daisy asked, suddenly interested. “The one at the–”

“Ancient History Building?” Tallie finished, her face brightening as she nodded. “Did you get free classes, too?”

“Yes,” Daisy said. “I went last night.”

“Oh, was it wonderful? I bet it was wonderful. The Kammani-Gula method, it just sounds fascinating. Tell me, did they give you any dog vitamins there?”

“No. No. They gave me Kool-Aid.” Daisy angled her head at Squash. “We’ll see you there next time, then, Squash?”

Squash lifted her head, looked Daisy right in the eye and said in a cranky drawl, “Looks that way.”

Daisy’s mouth went dry, and her breathing slowed. Wait. Squash didn’t… Squash couldn’t… but she’d seen. She’d seen Squash’s mouth move. She’d heard…

“Wha-what?” she sputtered finally.

“I said,” –Tallie leaned into Daisy’s peripheral vision and spoke slowly– “your shoe’s untied.”

“Huh?” Daisy blinked at Tallie. Then the words registered. “Oh.”

She placed her coffee on the table and knelt down, watching Squash as she tied her shoe. Squash met her eye and looked almost amused. If Daisy didn’t know better, she’d think Squash was enjoying this.

“You got something to say, dog?” Daisy whispered.

“What, dear?” Tallie asked.

Squash remained silent. Daisy straightened up slowly, her eyes on the dog, and was only able to pull her focus away when she heard the telltale one, two, three tap of a stir stick. Daisy looked at Tallie and caught a slight movement as Tallie seemed to be pulling her hand back toward her own glass.

“Oh, hell, Tallie,” Daisy said, grabbing her cup and sniffing it. “We’ve discussed this. Come on.”

Tallie blinked innocence. “What?”

“You know very well what,” Daisy said. “No dropping fiber supplements in my drinks. We shook on it.”

“I did not put a fiber supplement in your drink,” Tallie said.

“Then what? That… vitamin powder stuff?” she said, motioning vaguely toward the huge quilted bag in which Tallie kept all her varied and sundry supplements in case anyone ever had a need. The woman was Doc Holliday with herbal bullets.

Tallie shook her head. “I did not put the vitamin powder stuff in your drink.”

Daisy huffed. “I’m not going to guess all day. What’d you put in here?”

“Kava Kava,” Squash said.

“What the hell is Kava Kava?” Daisy asked, sniffing her coffee again.

Tallie shot up from her seat. “It’s for tension, Daisy, and you carry it all in your shoulders. It’s in your aura. It’s all crackling red right around here–” Tallie wiggled her fingers near Daisy’s right ear and there was a dual snap at the back of her head. Daisy’s hair fell to her shoulders as four pencil halves bounced to the floor. Tallie stared at her fingers, her eyes widening.

“Yep,” Daisy said, voicing Tallie’s thoughts. “That’s one powerful supplement you’re taking there, Tallie.”

Tallie’s voice registered deep amazement. “Do you think…? Did I…?”

“No.” Daisy turned, tossed her coffee down the sink, and rinsed out her mug. “I just bought a cheap batch of pencils.”

“No, you didn’t,” Squash sing-songed.

“You” –Daisy turned on her heel and pointed a warning finger at Squash– “stay out of it.”

“Please don’t take out your anger at me on my dog,” Tallie said, hurt in her face. “I’m the one who violated your trust. Squash is an innocent.”

Daisy put her mug down in the sink and turned to the two of them, her arms crossed over her middle. I can’t still be drunk, she thought. I just can’t.

But I can be crazy.

She took a breath, pretty sure she was about to ask a question she didn’t want the answer to, but unable to stop herself.

“Tallie,” she said, “does Squash ever… talk… to you?”

Tallie seemed both surprised and pleased by the question. “Well, sure. All the time.”

Daisy couldn’t decide if that was comforting or not. “Okay. So… if Squash said something right now, would you be able to tell me what she said?”

“Absolutely.”

“All right, then.” Daisy glanced down at Squash. “Speak, Squash.”

The old dog’s eyes lit up, and she barked, “I’d kill for a Snausage.”

Tallie beamed with pride, turned to Daisy and said, “She says you’re a very forgiving person.”

Daisy swallowed and leaned back against the counter. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

“Oh!” Tallie snapped her fingers and pivoted to her bag. “I have just the–”

But before she could finish, Daisy was out of the kitchen. I’m not drunk. Walking down the hall. I don’t think I’m crazy. Grabbing her purse. Okay, maybe I’m a little crazy. Going toward the door–

“Oh, Daisy!” Marigold called, hopping to her door as Daisy passed by. “You know I have class at–”

“Personal day!” Daisy shouted as she pushed out of the front door into the fresh air, the sunlight hitting her in the face and momentarily blinding her.

“Hey, watch it!” something barked at her feet. Daisy looked down to see a pug trailing behind his owner, giving Daisy a nasty parting look before running to catch up.

“Sorry,” Daisy said weakly, then turned her face toward the sun, and headed toward home.