Lassie to the rescue!

Okay, I know this is ridiculously short, and silly, but it was in my head, so I thought what the heck! I think this is probably crack.

Carlton gritted his teeth. He couldn't believe he was actually going to say this.

"Alright! Listen up! We have a ten year old boy, who has fallen down a... a well. Timothy Jones. He has been communicating-"

"Wait! What was that Lassie? Timmy's fallen down the well?" Spencer asked, eyes glinting with good humour.

"Yes. Timothy has fallen down a well." There was a barely suppressed round of much needed laughter. Lassiter continued. "He has been communicating with rescuers via a walkie talkie he'd been using with his best friend Stephen. The Fire department is already on scene, along with the Paramedics, but we need to send a couple of units as back up."

"Wait!" Shawn yelled suddenly. He'd been examining the map of the field where the boy was trapped. "I'm sensing something. It's a hoax! Timmy isn't trapped down a well! He's hiding in the barn."

"What?" Gus asked, turning to his friend. He'd been sympathetically crying along with the boy's parents.

"Spencer, shut up. Timmy.... Timothy is trapped down a well, might very well be fighting for his life." Lassiter said, in a surprisingly even voice.

When Shawn and Gus found the boy in the hay loft of the barn, Lassiter had gone bright red in the face with anger. He'd yelled at the boy for a good twenty minutes. The poor kid was crying by the end of it.

"Boy," Shawn grinned. "Lassie's a real attack dog, isn't he?"

"You know that's right." Gus replied and they fist bumped, discretely.

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