His mentality felt as though it adorned the properties of a crumpled paper ball; jagged and furrowed. Ever since the eve of that past stroke, the guardsman exhibited vibes of intertia, an unwillingness to move or interact. Instead, the canine confined his withering self within the stony confines of his abode, which displayed a hefty amount of bits and bobs sprawled on the cool floor. At one point in time, the building demonstrated not even an inch of disorder - now, the crash pad reeked of exhaust, and bore an interior appearance akin to a dumping ground. Adding in the fact that he was primarily living off of canned food and dirty water, Leroy’s lifestyle had taken an apparent turn for the worst. And, without a voice of wisdom to tell him to change his ways, the hound’s fate of seclusion seemed set.

That is, until a voice of wisdom indeed told him to change his ways.

Boredom. Excruciating boredom. Yes, it was pretty cliché - a plot device rather overused nowadays to kick off events. But, following an entire day or three of total isolation, he had gotten bored.

The issue: jadedness.

The cure: a new toy.

Toys and treats weren’t easy to locate around these parts, but luckily for Leroy, he knew these parts pretty well.

It was difficult to exactly lay a finger on it, but Tanglewood’s junkyard possessed an enticing emanation to it. A fair plentitude of promise lounged around behind the lot’s gilded fence, and while the scrapyard was definitely not one of the world’s most luxurious locations, a damn fine share of goods waited patiently for someone to come along and claim them.

In the grand scheme of things, the junkyard was nothing short of overlooked potential. Who could know the true number of curiosities and anomalies that lay dormant underneath the copious castoffs and bits of junk?

A little message was sent around by his own mouth, a memo requesting a few individuals to accompany him on his safari. Who knows, perhaps the lack of material goods at Christmastime could be made up for, if those involved today helped themselves to something nice.

The goal? To scour for and retrieve as many items of interest possible. The catch? None, because a catch would fucking suck in this situation.

His gray form barely escaped harm from the barbed barrier enclosing his destination, meekly sliding through an opening in the fence. Inside, Leroy slumped into a fatigued stance at short notice. He did not wish to begin straightaway, rather to keep watch and count heads. Once each and every nut involved made themselves present, then maybe then he’d start. For the time being however, he’d watch.

That last sentence was actually untrue. Instead, his amber hues were shrouded under his weak eyelids, which collapsed onto each other out of languor.