Characters; Sam and Dean
Word Count: 100
Disclaimer: Don't own them
"Dean, where did you get that thing?"
"If you mean Muffin, I got him at the local animal shelter."
"Muffin? More like Lucifer – that's Satan with fur."
"He's just a cat, Sam."
"He's a goddamn menace Dean."
"No, he's a mouser. We wanted a mouser, didn't we?"
"A 'mouser'? Dean, I saw him dragging a dead coyote back to the bunker yesterday. I didn't say anything about a 'coyote-er'."
"He's just … enthusiastic."
"Enthusi … he … Dean, how did you get all those scratches and grazes on your face?"
"Yeah, about that Sam. Just don't try to take the coyote carcass away from him."
Dean never liked soccer; it's a girls' game.
Sam liked Soccer, and Sam's a great big girl. Ergo, Soccer is a girls' game. It's an indisputable fact.
So when Sam challenged Dean to a one-on-one Soccer game in the local park that afternoon, Dean had only reluctantly agreed - because it was a sissy girls' game.
Now, with two grazed knees, a bloody nose (what, heading the ball is harder than it looks), cramping limbs, dehydration and, damnit, how the hell did he manage to strain his groin? Dean knew for sure.
Dean's not a girl.
That's why he's crap at Soccer.