Writer, writer - LJ Idol entry Week 7

The first knock was in his imagination; the second actually happened. Well, the first probably had, too, Haverty barely reasoned, as he pushed himself back from under the covers and executed a shockingly limber dismount in which his feet hit the bedroom floor aiming mostly toward the doorway while half-asleep. He skidded toward it across the hardwood floor, nearly tripping over the second dog and stepping on the third with a yelp, apologizing gruffly before hitting the top of the stairs-

Turner furrowed her brow and interrupted with, "Wait, wait - dogs? How do you do dogs onstage?"

"It can be done," Alan assured her, marking the spot he was reading from in his half-written script with his thumb. "Is it my turn?"

"Sorry."

... before hitting the top of the stairs. He grabbed the rail twice on his way down, nearly stumbling in his adrenalized fatigue. It wasn't until he got to the door to yank it open and stop the knocking from the outside that he wondered why he was so panicked; his mom had already died, after all, and who else was there for him to worry about at 2 a.m.? She wouldn't have been out of the house at this hour anyway. "Yeah?" he nearly shouted as he pulled at-

Alan stopped reading, catching his temporary roommate's expression. "What now?" he asked, an edge in his voice.

( Hidden for length - rest of the story under cut )

Written for LJ Idol's Week 7 topic 'No True Scotsman'