Pete looked around pleadingly at the rest of The Who. "C'mun, fellas, please?" Roger shook his head in a firm 'no.' Pete got down on his knees. "I've nevah seen one, please le's go!" His eyes were watering, tears threatening to break loose at any moment.

"We're not goin'!" Roger disagreed, a look of malice in his eyes. "Why d'you even wanna go there? They're really borin', an' wot's worse, y'always lose!" His golden hair wobbled uncertainly with every negative shake of his head. The hair was piled so high that at times it seemed about to fall, like the Leaning Tower of Pisa... only vertical.

"'Ow else d'you fink they make their money? Like, if everyone won..." John tried to make a valid point to Pete, who was now biting his lip. "Don' look a'me wif tha' face, Pait. I'm no' gunnah look!" The bassist turned his chair away from the guitarist and proceeded to stare longingly at the wall.

"Bu'... bu'... I won' even bet! Please? I jus' wanna see it, I've nevah seen one in me 'ole life!" he wailed, the tears still waiting. He sniffled loudly, because with a nose his size, it'd be hard to sniffle quietly. He decided to take his gaze off John, as he was no longer watching, and point it at another. Hmm, Roger won't break down... perhaps Keith will!

"Wot would be th' point of goin' if yah're not gunnah bet?" Keith asked, annoyed. "Tha's the 'OLE POINT of goin' there!" The drummer widened his eyes and waggled his eyebrows to accentuate his words. "I mean, CRIKEY, Pait! Yah're goin' fick, 'ere! Wot's the big deal?"

"I'VE NEVAH BEEN T'ONE!" Pete yelled. Tears finally streamed down his cheeks. "I wanna see, pleeeeeeeeease!" He suddenly found Roger and Keith's soft spots. John turned the chair around again, saw Pete's wet face, and lowered his eyes.

"Well... wot 'arm would it bring t'go? 'E's... 'e's nevah seen one before," John trailed off, gazing at Roger and Keith. Once again, Pete sniffled loudly. John's lower lip trembled. "I... want t'see it too," the bassist admitted.

Keith couldn't take the big sets of pale blue eyes in vain. "Well... well... 's okay by me. Rogah?" He blinked his large chocolate brown eyes and turned so Roger could see them. Keith's eyes seemed to possess the powers of persuasion and innocence; two things that, without these eyes, Keith would probably never seem to have. Roger swallowed hard on his dry throat.

"I... I... oh, well, alright," Roger succumbed. He sighed. "If we're gonna be goin', we might as well get ready now, don' y'fink? Lemme check th' paper fer th' times." The lead singer picked up the newspaper and flipped through it while Pete, John, and Keith jumped up and down happily, hugging and rejoicing. "Ah! 'S twenny minutes from now," Roger informed them.

"Fank you fer this!" Pete declared. "Le's get goin'! Ev'ryone in the bus!" The four band members and general best friends all walked out of their house and into their affectionately nicknamed 'Magic Bus.' Roger started her up, and soon they were on their way.

"We're 'ere, we're 'ere!" Pete yelped excitedly seven minutes later. "Now 's the time t'see th' dogs an' bet!" He galloped happily through the parking lot, followed by Roger, John, and Keith, in that order. Pete bought his ticket, waited for the other three as they bought theirs, and then they all headed to trap number one. There was a kennel maid tending to the greyhound in it.

The kennel maid was brushing the dog's fur to a shiny perfection. Pete looked down at her (the kennel maid, not the dog--the dog's a boy) and grinned. Her white coat was shining in the afternoon sun, and she smiled back up at the guitarist. Pete felt his heart beginning to race. Was going to the dogtrack always this exciting? "Er, 'ello miss, wot's yah name?" Pete asked politely.

"I'm Emily," she said, taking Pete's hand and shaking it. This man was actually quite good looking, for a bloke with a big nose. "Do you like my dog?" she added. Pete enthusiastically nodded, much like a small child. Emily grinned wide and then said, "His name is Boris."

For the first time since the band had gotten to the track, John smiled a very happy smile. "Did you say 'is name's Boris?" he queried. Emily nodded at the tall, dark, and handsome bassist. "Tha's my favourite name," he sighed contentedly. He decided he'd have to come to the dogtrack more often!

Roger leered at the pretty kennel maid. It was his custom to try to get a date from every remotely pretty woman he could find, and this girl was more than remotely pretty. He might even go so far as to call her kind-of pretty! This doesn't happen every day, thought Roger. "I see you like t'brush th' dog's fur 'til it's shiny." Emily said nothing, but nodded again. "I brush my 'air 'til it's shiny, too." The kennel maid with the red hair giggled. Roger added her giggle to her level of prettiness, which now reached moderately pretty!

Keith laughed as the dog, Boris, started to lick his hand. "Nice dog! Goo' boy! Goo' goo' goo' boy! Wot a nice dog y'ave, Em! Er, tha' is, 'f I can call you 'Em.'"

"Of course you can," Emily smiled. Her smile lit up the trap. "But do all of you realize that I'm not aware of any of your names?" The Who all gasped. They introduced themselves one by one, each trying their hardest to impress Emily. "Nice to meet you all," she said.

"Well, I... 's... th' race starts in anuthah faive minutes," Pete sighed reluctantly. "Bu', 'm definitely bettin' on Boris t'win!" he added. The rest of his band all nodded in excitement and agreement. "See you aftah th' raice, Em!" The four of them walked away from her and to the betting place.

Only a few moments later the four of them had bet on Boris, ten shillings each. He was a longshot, but The Who didn't consider that. They just thought of how nice of a trainer Emily was and how nice of a dog Boris was. Then they went back to their seats to watch the race proceed. Pete bit his nails nervously. What if Boris didn't win? He'd lose a lot of money and probably never see Emily again! So he watched everything with a tense and worried look.

Roger fluffed his hair. Heh heh, that was a pretty good line I came up with!, he thought. She'll definitely want me now! He watched the dogs go around and around the racetrack. Yeah, c'mun Boris, he willed in his mind.

    Keith was leaping up and down, never wanting to sit. "Booooooooris! BOOOOOORRRIIIISSS!" he yelled happily, watching the dog run. "BORIS TH' GOO' BOY'S GUNNAH WIN!"

    "Quiet!" came the stern voice of the bassist. "You'll distract the dog an' we'll lose a lot of money tha' way."

    "Is all you can fink of money, Jun?" Rog questioned. "I mean, c'mun, Emily's pretty. She's actually moderately pretty, which is pretty goo' f'r a gahl I've jus' met."

    "Is prettiness all YOU fink of, Rog?" John's voice was hard and cold. "I know wot you wanna do t'Emily. Don' even fink o' it."

    "Oh, like yah're so much bettah, Jun. Like she'll fall for you!" Roger rolled his eyes to emphasize his point.

    Pete now had no nails left on either of his hands and so started to pull out strands of his hair, one at a time.

    "Pait, wha's wrong?" asked Keith, still jumping around like the loon that he is. "Yah're gunnah need tha' 'air when yah're ol' and grey an' yah won't 'ave much 'air left!"

    Pete said nothing as he kept pulling at strand by strand. In what seemed like an eternity to him, but in actuality was less than six minutes, the race was over. Boris, as his title of 'longshot' had suggested, had come in dead last. The Who all trekked to the lovely but disappointed kennel maid's kennel.

    Emily had a very sad look on her face. "I'm sorry you guys all bet on Boris. He's a good boy, yes, but not a very good racer yet. I really wish you hadn't lost all your money on him." She gave the dog a reassuring hug.

    "Oh, 's alright, we di'n't care as much 'bout the money as we do 'bout you, Em," John said, to which he received a sharp elbow in the ribs from Roger. "Ow! You bleedin' git!"

    "Oh yeah? Oh yeah? Come a' me, Jun!" the short blonde taunted.

    "Don' fight, fellas, there's a lady present," Pete demonstrated his authority. Both friends stopped their petty little quarrel. They would settle it soon enough when they got home...

    Keith had a question that made the kennel maid smile. "Well, Em, c'n we come an' see yah next week?"

    "Of course you can."

    Once back home, the four members of The Who argued amongst themselves; mainly, it was John and Roger that seemed to be delivering most of the blows to each other.

    "Bleedin' miser!" was Roger's first insult.

    "Stupid, short git!" came John's retort.

    "Money-hungry!"

    "Cheap 'ore!"

    "Oh, yeah, but too expensive for even YOU t'buy, eh?"

    "I woul'n' be seen wif the laiks o'you."

    "Why, cos yah've already go' a regular an' I'm no' goo' enough?"

    "Rogah, you ignorant slut."

[Side note: Yes, Dan Akroyd did come and hit me for saying that. Lo siento.]

    "SHADDUP!" Pete commanded, his voice booming as the others stared at him in shocked silence. Nervous as they looked at him, the guitarist had no choice but to run up to his room and pull out his guitar. It didn't take very long for him to start writing a song.

    John, too, ran into his room. He didn't need to argue with stupid Roger anyway. He sat and brooded for a good long while.

    Keith looked at Roger quizzically. "What be you finkin', Rog dear boy?" A weird lopsided grin was on the maniac's face.

    "Shurrup, Keef."

    "Oh, but why? I be havin' a good time not conjugate verbs at all! I be very happy!"

    "Keef, I said, shurrup."

    "I hear you, but I be not conjugate verbs at all."

    Roger couldn't resist the temptation to punch Keith, but just as he tried, Keith dashed into his room, laughing wildly. "I wanna be alone," Roger sighed. "I'm goin' out!" he called, and received no response. It didn't matter. The sharply dressed man left the house without another word.

    Before very long Roger found himself down at the pub, trying to cheer up. He was quite surprised to see Emily there, doing the same. "Em? Are you alright?"

    Emily's head jolted up in shock. "Oh my God, Roger, I... uh, ha ha... ahem. Why are you here?"

    "I might ask you th' same question, m'dear."

    "Well, the dog didn't win and I wasn't feeling too happy, so I thought I'd cheer myself up," she responded. Then she groaned, "I don't want you to think I'm a drunk or something, it's just I..."

    "No, no, no, I understand... believe me." His beautiful blue eyes sunk into her deep green ones. She gulped.

    "Uh... yeah." Her nervousness made her move up two marks on his prettiness scale, for now she was up to surprisingly pretty.

    Back home, Pete had finished his song. Rather appropriately, he had titled it, "Dogs." He couldn't help but giggle when he read the lyrics. It felt clever, cute, catchy... all the things he needed to impress Emily. He hoped to himself desperately that it would work.

    Roger bounded to the house a happier man. He had gotten Emily's number! A-ha-ha-ha! I KNEW I could do it! It's just my amazin' charm... "I'm back!" he announced.

    Keith immediately sped down the stairs to greet Roger. "I see you be home, Rogah! What be in yahr pocket?"

    "Only the phone number o' th' most surprisin'ly pretty gahl I've met today!"

    "An' who be that?"

    "Emily, o' course!"

    John and Pete tromped down the stairs. "What are you doin' with Emily's number?" they both demanded.

    Roger grinned evilly. "It's all cos o' me great charm, y'know. I'm brilliant." Before any of the three members of the band could all gang up on him, he went into his room and decided to stay there the rest of the night.

    The next day, The Who embarked for the dog races very much earlier than the races were to start. They all dashed into trap number one, each with his own way to impress Emily, the lovely kennel maid they could not get out of their minds. She couldn't help but beam when she saw all of their eager faces. "Hello, lads!" she greeted them as if she'd known them for years on end.

    "'Ello, Emily!" they all chorused back in unison, then gave each other glares for saying exactly what they were saying.

    "I be so 'appy t'see you!" Keith giggled, still not conjugating his verbs in the slightest. In this way, he hoped that Emily would find him either incredibly cute for not being able to do so, or take pity on him and thereby help him relearn his verbs.

    "We came by to bet on Boris again... cos we'll bet on 'im any time a'tall," John explained for the band. He was on his modest, flattering kick, and wanted to make Emily realize what a good job he'd do of taking care of Boris. As such, he stroked the dog's soft fur, and Boris wagged his tail contentedly. The way to a woman's heart is through her pet!

    Roger felt he didn't really have to try to impress Emily in the slightest. He knew (or, at least, he thought he knew) that she wanted him very badly. He sniggered quietly, then said, "Yes, Em, we've come t'see yah an' Boris."

    "Well, I'm glad to hear that, fellas." She looked at Pete, who was nervously folding and unfolding a paper that he held in his hand. "What's that, Pete?"

    The songwriter's eyes went wide. "Er... I... 's... a song for you," he mumbled quickly and thrust it into her hand. Then he grabbed his bandmates and dragged them all out of the kennel and into their seats.

    The glasses-wearing girl stood looking confused. A song? she asked herself. Slowly she began to read the song that Pete had so hoped she would like.

    Back in the stands again, Keith, Roger, and John battered Pete for forcing them out of the kennel before they were ready. "I still wanted t'talk to 'er!" John complained loudly.

    "I 'ave my reasons..." Pete trailed off.

    Before they knew it, the dogs were released. This time The Who watched in silence, not as nervous, confident, worried, or energetic as they had been just the day before. Quite amazingly, it appeared that Boris was going to win! Could it be possible?

    "Boris," Keith whispered, "do it fer Em."

    As if the dog had heard Keith's almost silent plea, he pulled through and won the race. Somewhere else in the stands, Herman's Hermits stood there, cursing at themselves for forgetting to bring the song, "She's Done It Again," because if they had, their dog, Mrs. Brown, would have won. Regardless of them, Emily ran to meet The Who as they ran to her. She hugged Pete enthusiastically.

    "It's all because of your song that Boris won! Oh, Pete, I love you!" Then Emily gave Pete a very large smooch, causing the others to feel a bit jealous. To remedy this, Emily said, "Please remember I love you all, too, but in different ways. Keith, you're funny and eclectic. Maybe we can help you with your inability to conjugate verbs... John, you're very caring and a softie at heart who loves animals, though you seem somber on the outside. And Roger, you're very charming."

    The Who all nodded; Emily was right. Still, Roger felt grumpy as he marked Emily back down to kind-of pretty on his scale, though she was unaware of this.

    And so, that very night, The Who took Emily out to a lovely dinner and brought Boris back a yummy doggie bag. They all stayed miraculous friends and Pete always felt loved and wanted as long as he had Emily--after all, everyone knows that to win a girl all you have to do is write a silly song! Pete thought happily.