Another prompt by Keith Channing. In his words, “Using this photo (below) as inspiration, write a short story, flash fiction, scene, poem; anything, really; and either put it (or a link to it) in a comment or email it to me at keithkreates@channing.fr before 6pm next Sunday (if you aren’t sure what the time is where I live, this link will tell you). If you post it on your own blog or site, a link to this page would be appreciated, but please do also mention it in a comment here – for reasons I have yet to fathom, pingbacks don’t seem to be working.
Go on. You know you want to. Let your creativity and imagination soar. I shall display the entries, with links to your own blog or web site, next Monday.”
Here is the photo.
Morning by John W. Howell © 2016
“Good morning, Trevor. What a beautiful day today.”
“Wha. Oh no. Is it morning already?”
“Yes it is and time to start the day.”
“Aw, no boss. I had a rough night last night. I need a couple a more hours in the sack.”
“The sack, as you call it, is my bed, and I would like to make it up now.”
“I’m telling you boss. I’m not a well dog. I think I’m running a fever.”
“Sure you are. I heard you making that ruckus last night. What was it the Johnson’s cat?”
“The Johnson’s cat? Paaalease. I wouldn’t walk across the street to give that brat a drink of water if she were dying of thirst.”
“My. my. This statement is coming from the guy who couldn’t seem to leave her alone. What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Come on Trevor. Let’s have out with the truth.”
“Nothing happened. Could we forget about it?”
“Now I know something’s fishy.”
“Good choice of words.”
“Ah ha. There is something then.”
“Not really. It is a small thing.”
“That has you laying in bed like a sick dog.”
“Okay. I’ll tell you, but not a word to mom okay?”
“You have my word, not a word.”
“Mittsy, that’s the Johnson’s cat’s name. Mittsy came up to the back door and tried to get through the dog door.”
“Well, she does that all the time and I know her name.”
“I’m trying to tell a complete story. Anyway, she was carrying a fish.”
“A fish?”
“Gee boss. Have you lost your hearing or something?”
“No, I was surprised to hear she had a fish. What happened next?”
“I told her to drop the fish or no entrance.”
“So she dropped it.’
“Well not exactly. She ran into the house and I lost her for a while.”
“But you found her.”
“Yes.”
“Where was she?”
“I don’t think ‘was’ is the correct word. You should ask ‘Where is she'”
“Okay, so where is she?”
“I was trying to save you from this, but no you had to know. Pull back the covers.”
“Oh my gosh. Mittsy. What are you doing here? And why is this disgusting fish in my bed.”
“If I may boss, she snuck in your bed while you were sound asleep. Yes, that fish is disgusting.”
“Meow?”
“What did she say?”
“She doesn’t speak human boss. She said she brought the fish as a gift. You should have let me take care of this.”
“Everyone out.”
Great story, John, but I somehow can’t see Trevor sleeping if there’s a cat in the bed.
He’s often well hidden under the covers – this morning, not (she says) knowing he was there, Eos jumped up onto the bed and landed on him.
Seconds away…
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Ha ha ha. I can see the reaction.
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After a long weekend, I feel like crawling back under the covers. Great story, John!
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Wouldn’t is be great. Thanks, Jill.
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Think Trevor’s owner needs to get his nose checked. Unless the fish has no smell, but I’ve never heard of such a thing.
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Just between you and me, too much wine blunts the senses.
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There’s such a thing as too much wine?
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Not until it blunts the senses.
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Sounds fishy to me.
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I can almost smell the thing. 😦
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hahahaha Loved it!
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Thanks, Pam.
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hahahaha, I am glad I don’t have to smell it :-). Great story!
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Me too. I threw it away.
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🙂
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I’m dyin up here, John! This is so funny and I needed a good laugh! God bless the creative writers in this world!
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As Tiny Tim said, “God bess us everyone and God bless Mr. Scrooge.” Don’t worry, John this was apropos of nothing. (Just being creative)
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Oh, dear. It’s obvious Trevor isn’t a Sheltie. No way would Dallas let a cat with a stinky fish inside the house!
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I’m sure. Thanks Debbie.
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Precisely why we don’t have a dog door. Good one John.
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The last one we had was a non-stop entry way for raccoons.
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Does he have a cold? Couldn he not smell the fish upon waking? 😀 😀 😛 😀 😀
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Too much wine the night before. He assumed it was his t-shirt that smelled.
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😀 😀 😀
Might have been the whiskey; might have been the gin, might have been the…
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So very cat-like! When we had more than one cat, we had two cat doors. They so love bringing in their treasures to share. Clever post!
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Thanks Jo. 🙂
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Oh my Cod, I bet Eel be in for a bit of a Pollocking.
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On a high scale.
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Man, oh man, John… nobody writes animal drama better, buddy.
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Thanks. 🙂 You’re the best. You know that?
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