Loup Soup (8)

    
   "Loup Soup (8)"
  
   Jasper wasn't completely lost.  Still had a bit of sanity.  FM Radio.  Knew if a werewolf might have been in his fridge, for there would be footprints in the cheesecake; alas, he had no fridge; thus, no problem.  Anyway, Boxer came home, burping up a mouse; next, he gobbled it up again, and Jasper knew he had to get back to work that morning.
   Harnessing the Grey Wolf's quicksilver speed, he swiftly ran through the heavy snow in his cheap moccasins, letting his feet get cold, but blocking out the freeze with werewolf red.  It was all he could do--use the hues.
   When he entered the comic shop, Buster was there, reading a Green Lantern comic book.  Too, he had liked the movie.  The whole cosmic cop thing.  The meditation on the power of vibrant colors healing and fueling man's best, not his worst.
   As if telepathically, Jasper picked up on the sublimity of the Icelander, though his tall and handsomely blonde boss could be a smart ass at times.  What was Schwarzenegger told in the movie Raw Deal:  "Smart I like; smart ass I don't."
   Nonetheless, Jasper felt warmth for Buster, feeling sorry that the Icelander had to make his own fish stew here in Nebraska.  Then, he made a mental note to get some spicy mustard and albacore for Boxer and him on the way home.  
   The daystar blossomed brilliant as the day moved forward, and the roads were losing their inviolate white.  By closing time, he was positive he could pilot the Ninja 300 home, after a stop at the local gas station for the spicy mustard and albacore; plus, to taste the French pastries made by the hot lady from Toulon.  You never know--love can ignite with a splendorous spark for even the most bizarre of folk.