Me and DW, Rated G to PG

[center]Me and D.W.
Disclaimer: Once again, I don’t own D.W. or any other Arthur character.

Summary: In this four-chapter story, I, the author of this self-insert story, am with D.W. Awesome isn't it, to be with a cute little cartoon aardvark girl? Not! I'm pestered and ordered around by Arthur's spoiled and demanding little sister! See how D.W. treats me and how I deal with it. Rated G to PG but no foul language. Story, title, summary, and rating subject to change/edit. Chapters will be posted separately.


Story:
Chapter 1: Meeting D.W.



“William wake up!”
I hear a familiar voice as I am awakened from a very nice dream I was having.  And it’s a female voice.
“Come on, William,” says the voice again, “you heard me!  I said wake up!”
As I’m struggling to open my eyes, I see a glaring tan-colored face with round ears on top and somewhat short brown hair looking me in my eyes.  I immediately recognize who that is.
“D.W.?” I utter.

“That’s right William!” she answers.
“How do you know my name?” I ask her.
“Never mind that!” she bellows at me.  “Now get up, you’re coming with me!”
“Why am I doing that?” I ask her as I sit up.
“Questions, questions, questions,” she goes, “just get up already and let’s go!”
Then she turns her back and walks away but doesn’t get far.

“Whoa,” I say putting my hand up at her, “you’re just a four year old little aardvark girl, I’m 28 years old and I’m older than you, you don’t talk to me like that!  I deserve a lot more respect than that from you young lady!”
D.W. stops and turns her head towards me but not without showing a glaring face.
“Oh quit your complaining and come on here!” she says to me.
I hesitate.
“Now!” she yells, “I don’t have all day, we’ve got a lot to do and I’m not going to let you be lazy and waste my time!  Move it!”
“Okay, okay, I’m coming,” I say getting out of bed.
“And make sure you wear your finest clothes,” she says.  “Get yourself dressed and meet me outside your room!”
Then D.W. walks out of my room and thankfully gives me some privacy.  I then close my door so that I don’t show too much skin to a little girl, especially one not related to me.  But just when I thought I was done:

“And don’t take too long to get dressed!” she orders.  “And make sure you use the bathroom, brush your teeth and your hair and get out here!  I have a lot for you to do!”
How on earth did I just let a little pipsqueak of an aardvark boss me around?  
“I heard that, William!” she yells.
Hoping to minimize her grilling, I go into my closet and pick out a brown T-Shirt and black jeans.  Then I go into the bathroom to use it, and then I brush my teeth and my hair.  When I come out of the bathroom, I find D.W. standing at the bathroom door.
“It’s about time you got out here!”

“Alright, D.W.,” I say, “what are we doing?”
“First, you and me are going to play tower of cows.”
“Alright.”
And that’s just what we do in my living room.  And because she’s just four years old, I don’t try to correct her grammar.

“Alright, here’s how we play tower of cows…” she says after the game is set up.
“Let, me guess,” I say, “we stack the cows on top of each other, right?”

D.W. gets annoyed and indignant with me.
“Will you just be quiet and let me do the talking?!”
“Alright, alright,” I say putting up both of my hands.
“As I was saying,” she continues, “here is how we are going to do this!  First I will put a cow on the floor and then you will put another cow on top of that one, and then I will put another cow on top of your cow.  Got it?”
“I think so,” I say.
“You better!” she says, “I’ll go first.”
D.W. does just exactly what she said she’d do.

“You’re turn,” she says to me.
I grab a random cow and try to figure out how to stack it on top of the initial cow.
“Will you just hurry up and put the cow on?” she grills, “It’s not that hard!”
When I place the cow on top of the bottom cow, D.W. grills me again.
“No, no, no,” she says, “You’re doing it all wrong!”
“What am I doing wrong, D.W.?” I ask her.
“The cows all have to face the same way!” she says.
“Gee I didn’t think it mattered,” I say to her.
“Well it does,” she says, “now do it right!”
So I turn my cow around.
“My turn!” she goes as she stacks her cow up.
When we finish one game of tower of cows, D.W says “Good game.”
That’s the first nice thing she says to me all day.
“Another game!” she says.
“Another game?” I ask.
“Yes. Now let’s unstack these cows and stack them again.”

D.W. and I play Tower of Cows for a while and I get tired of it.
“One more game,” she says.
“But D.W.” I say, “we’ve been playing 20 straight games, can we please do something else now?”
“One more game!” she demands.

“Ohhhh alright,” I say. “One more game it is.”

After our last game of Tower of Cows, D.W. says “I’m hungry, got any cookies?”
“No we don’t,” I answer.
“Then can we go get some?” she asks me.
“I don’t know…” I say.
“Let’s go get some cookies!” she orders.
“Alright,” I say.  “Let me just find some shoes and you and I will go to the grocery store and buy cookies.”
“And some juice?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say without enthusiasm, “we’ll BUY some juice.”
So I put on my shoes and we walk to the nearest grocery store to my house.