Category Archives: Dogs

The Two-headed Monster

 

“I’m hungry,” said Wally. “Too bad,” said Pauley. This two-headed monster sure loved to bicker.

Pauley & Wally were laying on their master’s property, knowing that soon enough they’d receive the call to action.

After months of training, it was time. But with their constant disagreement, no one was sure they’d be able to execute the plan.

It was hard for them to execute anything as Pauley could only look left, and Wally could only look right.

But the one thing they both could do–and very well, I might add–is hatch a scheme. And hatch they would.

On the north side of town, the feed store manager, Dolly, was busy with year end accounting. She didn’t notice the sirens until…

…Collie ran inside and uttered the phrase that struck fear in Dolly’s heart: Timmy fell in the well.

And now it was go time. Wally jumped up first, but Pauley’s heavy head pulled Wally back down. They came crashing to the ground.

Meanwhile, Timmy was splashing around in the well. Dolly was pacing. “When are Pauley and Wally gonna get here?”

Collie wasn’t bright, but he sensed Pauley & Wally would never get there on their own. Collie had to take matters into his hands

Or rather, his paws.

He trotted over to Wally and Pauley’s to find them bickering. “It’s time to go!” yelled Wally. “No it’s not!” screamed Pauley.

Collie had heard enough. He grabbed Wally & Pauley by their scruffy twin necks and drug them out the door.

Collie dragged Wally and Pauley across the muddy field, up a cobblestone hill and through a sizable patch of tall grass to the well

“Well?” Collie demanded.

They still couldn’t agree. Pauley wanted to help. Wally to sleep. And the longer they took, the longer Timmy was down in the well.

Collie knew if the pair couldn’t come to an accord, things wouldn’t end well at all. But Collie had one last trick up his sleeve.

Dolly. Her ample size and bleach-blonde fur scared the living daylights out of Wally & Pauley. They would not cross her.

“Dolly,” Collie said, “help me get these pups straightened out.” Dolly drew a breath into her ample chest and began to…

sing. “Hey Wally, hey Pau-ley. You neeeeed to help us out. Hey Wally, hey Pauley, right now. Right now right now right now.”

That got their attention. They were huge fans of “Singin’ in the Rain” and Gene Kelly. Now, they were ready to save little Timmy.

Wally and Pauley grabbed spelunking gear and started down the well. There was this keen determination in all four of their eyes.

Then the usual argument began. “Why do I always have to go 1st?” cried Pauley. “YOU? It’s ME who always goes 1st!” Wally shouted.

Dolly couldn’t stand it anymore, so she just pushed them over into the well. They had no choice but to save little Timmy now.

Especially since Timmy had been submerged under the pair after their fall.

The strange anatomy that was Pauley & Wally helped liberate Timmy. Thus, proving the old adage—two heads are better than one.

Timmy was able to climb out to safety, stepping on the pairs’ heads to do so. And now, it was Pauley and Wally who were stuck.

Amazingly, Wally & Pauley worked together like their life depended on it. Which it did. They followed Dolly’s pitchiness to safety.

And thus, when it came down to it, Wally and Pauley came through. Everyone lived happily ever after. Despite the bickering.

THE END

 

Sorry for the delay in getting this story up. I know all of you were dying to read it. So now you have your chance. This was a weird one – lots of name rhyming, and it didn’t have that many twists and turns. It was kind of matter of fact. Someone fell down a well, then he got saved. Oh, and a little Dolly Parton mixed in.

 

Thanks to @Chrisa_Hickey for supplying the photo. I believe they’re her dogs. And thanks to @nella22 @chrisa_hickey @ShesAllWrite @MojoEnvy and @MusicAdamT for writing with me.

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Doin’ Time

“Man, those look so good,” he thought. Anything would. He hadn’t eaten in days.

4 days exactly, since arriving in prison. Chaz didn’t mind being called Mr. Fluffles, but the pebbles they offered him to eat

were not of the fruity kind like he was expecting but instead were of the garden variety and laced with some sort of foul tasting

butter. Chaz loved butter. But butter didnt go with pebbles. Butter went with toast. He’d do anything for buttered toast. Anything.

Up to and including pouncing on an unsuspecting Dougie the bread delivery man who lives next door.

Chaz still couldn’t believe that mousy lawyer of his couldn’t beat the rap. Guess he should have stuck with the rat,

Feral, they said! Really? “How could I have possibly kept my mane this pristine if I was wild?! Unless they knew about

the membership he had to the Cat Beauty Club for Convicts.

CBCC included daily milk baths and all the mackerel he could eat. Great for the coat! And weekly hairball extraction.

Chaz paid dues for the membership in cigarettes. It’s what you do in prison. He had a guy on the outside who’d smuggle them in.

Though when you pay with candy cigarettes it takes a lot more of them.

Hence the poofy mane. Looks good & helps hide the stash of cigs. It’s a vicious cycle, really. One that Chaz was looking to break.

He’d tried 12 step programs to overcome his candy cigarette hiding addiction. If only there had been warnings on the packages.

So here he sits. Jonesin’ for that high only street candy can give. Those big yellow lollipops out the window calling his name.

If only he never hid candy cigarettes in his fur. If only he didn’t join the CBCC. If only he never robbed that bank. If only.

After a while they turned from lollipops to resemble the heads of this siblings, whom he hadn’t seen since…

Since who can remember, with the candy jones clouding his feline brain. He was so hungry now, he could eat one of his siblings.

“Cats with the poofy mane are always up to something, but never taken seriously.” He thought to himself. I need to break out.

Suddenly Chaz had an idea that might shorten his sentence. Design packaging for those evil candy cigs w/pictures of decayed teeth.

He could also alter his identity with a haircut. “Hey Rico,” he yelled to the resident inmate barber. “You still got a 4:30 open?”

“Not if you want another permanent wave,” Rico yelled back.

“I need to look like someone else,” he thought. “No, no,” he replied to Rico “I’m thinking a mullet will do the trick.”

“Business in front, paaarrrty in the back,” cooed Rico. “Of course he digs that,” said a voice from solitary. “He’s a hairdresser.”

Behind the bars the face of Chaz’s favorite hellraiser Jack Murphy appeared, grinning in his familiar half-crazy way.

Jack Murphy though was the one that got Chaz into this whole conundrum in the first place.

If only he hadn’t raised his prices for mullets and got Chaz hooked on the imported milk bath.

“Hey Rico,” yelled Murphy. “You think I could borrow those scissors when you’re done?” Just then, Officer Friendly came by.

Friendly’s name was a misnomer, as he was anything but. It was rumored he’d killed a man during a cell search. Chaz was very…

…tall for a beagle. Don’t let those cute little ears fool you. He was no Snoopy. As he walked by, Chaz whispered….

“The cat flies at midnight.” Friendly smacked his billy club on the wall. “Shut it, you cat, or Beagle, or whatever you are.”

Friendly had trouble identifying criminal animals, aka crinimals. He was always confusing himself, a Beagle, with Chaz, the cat.

It’s why Friendly left the camaraderie of the police force for the isolation of the criminal system. The ridicule bruised his ego.

Chaz looked anxiously at the clock, pacing back and forth. “It’s 4:20, Rico” he yelled. “We’re still on for my 4:30, right?”

“Yes,yes, the mullet,” Rico answered. “But why do you need my scissors?”

“I don’t,” said Chaz, now with a mullet. “He does.” He pointed to Jack Murphy in solitary. “Ahhh,” said Rico. “That makes sense.”

But it didn’t make sense to Jack. He’d been told by Friendly to get them away from Rico. He just couldn’t figure out the reason.

He suspected it was because of the increasing number of inmates with mullets. In their uniforms, it was hard to tell them apart.

That explains how Dax escaped during the annual football game. He went long down the sideline & kept going, unnoticed into freedom.

And with this year’s game tomorrow, Chaz had similar plans. But he needed help. Someone on the inside to unlock the gates.

Lucky for Chaz he had a sympathtic fellow inmate that had been working on an escape plan and was willing to spring Chaz for the sum

of 22 candy cigarettes. But Chaz still needed help on the inside. If he could just talk to that quiet new guard Dempsey.

Dempsey had a thing for kitties (he always used that “p” word) and Chaz was sure his knowing Dempsey’s secret would sway him.

Dempsey’s quiet and unassuming demeanor was a facade to cover

the fact that he spent time in the joint when he was younger. He had sympathy for the inmates & was dying for one to approach him.

Chaz approached during lunch, putting up a front to seem tougher than he was. “Psst. Word is you got a soft spot for cats like me.”

He tried really hard not to laugh at his “cats” pun. He bit his lip & furrowed his brow, waiting to see how Dempsey would respond.

Dempsey growled back “scat cat” but slipped him a piece of paper.

It read: Doors open fur game at 11:30. Doors open fur u at 12:40. Chaz winked, then yelled,”I ain’t no scaredy cat.” Again, a front.

He was shaking in his non-existent boots and dropped the paper as he walked away.

Moments later, Warden Raton, making his daily rounds, happened upon the slip of paper.

Thankfully the warden was slightly dyslexic and read it as game is at 3:11 and the doors open fur you at 4:21.

The clock was approaching 12:30 and Chaz made his way to the outer lock.

He spotted Dempsey walking away from the doors, and he knew it was only minutes until his freedom. The clock struck 12:27.

Hearing the hum of the locking mechanism beginning to open, Chaz tightened his spine; ready to spring.

12:30. As Dempsey promised, the doors opened. Chaz sprang out to freedom, just as the inmates scored a touchdown on a flea flicker.

Chaz was running free, past the yellow flowers. The guards paid him no attention. They were in a dogfight on the football field.

And Dempsey was right behind…remember, he had a thing for kitties!

And so Chaz was able to safely run free to meet up with his long lost family.

And the two ran off until they became dots. Chaz after his family. Dempsey, the horndog, after Chaz.

THE END

Whew! That was a long one. (That’s what she said.) I’m really happy for Chaz. He deserved freedom. He deserved to break free from his candy cigarette hiding addiction. He deserved a new ‘do from Rico the prison hairdresser. Not so sure he deserved Dempsey, but hey, what can you do?

Thanks so much to you all for contributing to this story. Thanks @lilmissjen for the amazing photo, which I believe you snapped in a window in New York City. We had a new writer today – @Sean_Heffernan. Thanks for joining, and I hope you enjoyed. And thanks to all the veteran writers – @LundieP, @swanieson, @paulmtracy, @elderberryjam, @jsetlak, @ParkRidgeDDS, @courtcan, @adelamiz, @Sean_Heffernan, @Chrisa_Hickey and @hwtibbs. This one had deep character development, so an extra thanks to @swanieson and @paulmtracy for hanging in at the end and helping me finish.

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The Gnome Wars

The two friends crouched down slowly. Lamont peeked between the wood slats. “Do you see that?” he asked.

“Yes Lamont, I’m not blind” snapped Gordo. “And I can smell it. What do you think it is?”

Oblivious to Gordo’s tone, Lamont replied, “Well it smells like bacon, but it can’t be. Who has cooked bacon under a deck?”

The lawn gnomes had been plotting an ingenious bacon trap for Lamont and Gordo for some time now. They wanted vengeance on the canines.

Gordo: It’s cooking, but not bacon. I think that damned rabbit nibbled on the porch light wires once too much. Smell burnt fur?

The dogs were unaware that the gnomes dared the rabbit to bite all the way through the live wire. Just one part of a sinister plan.

“It smells like victory. Now I’ve got a craving for bacon flavored rabbit,” said Lamont.

The dogs were tragically unaware of the gnomes’ plot to teach a lesson: Never, ever piss off – or especially ON – a garden gnome.

For years, the gnomes have been pissed on. By birds. By meerkats. By donkeys. By llamas. And of course, by Lamont and Gordo.

One by one, meticulously, the gnomes got their revenge. The birds were tarred. The meerkats skinned. The llamas drugged.

The donkeys? Let’s just say those asses’ll never be heard from again. But Lamont & Gordo? They’re different cats. Cuz they’re dogs.

Bobbing side to side, the great gnome warrior, Metro Gnome, waited for the bait to draw in his unsuspecting prey.

Metro Gnome was ruthless, known to trip children for fun. Paranoid about a coup, he saw Gordo and Lamont as threats to his rule.

Metro lived a solitary life under a patch of mushrooms. He talked to himself by day and developed conspiracy theories by night.

These were the unfortunate effects of the mushrooms being of the Psilocybin variety.

Metro Gnome’s hallucinations often involved magical unicorns. Not surprising, given his brother Gastro’s My Little Pony collection.

There were rumors of a rebellion, but always in hushed tones. Metro once forced a cat to bark as punishment for purring loudly. He

was true definition of a crazed despot. Known to sit quietly for hours, he’d spring into action after wolfing down the mushrooms.

Conspiracy theories too often amplified by Metro’s cousin, Terror Gnome, who is sure someone or something is always out to get us.

“Neil Armstrong, Oscar winner,” Metro was fond of telling Gordo and Lamont. The dogs’ response? A simple leg raise & a lot of piss.

That’s why the Gnomes had beef with Lamont and Gordo. That and Lamont teasing Gastro about the Tourette’s he’s had since he was 6.

That was the last straw. Metro, Terror and Gastro Gnome had a plan. And it involved their other cousin Gee, an electric Gnome.

Shaken from his reverie, Metro saw a sudden movement reflected from the surface of his pinwheel made from the finest Gnomish steel.

It was the white haired fiend and he was approaching quickly!

“Quick!” yelled Metro. “Plug Gee into the socket!” Gordo was bearing down on them. Terror & Gastro got to the outlet just in time.

With 120 volts coursing through Gee Gnome, he began to replicate. Dozens then hundreds of gnome warriors began to appear.

As their ranks swelled, a battle cry went up. “Red Rover, Red Rover, these Dog Days are over!” Gastro twitched with anticipation.

Lamont led the charge, followed closely by Gordo. Poor Gordo was a step behind when it came to everything – sports, girls, school.

They got closer. Metro calmed the troops. “Steady! Steady!” But since their legs were really just painted on, they had no choice.

Lamont & Gordo leapt at the Gnomes. The Gnomes held their ground, as Gnomes do. Sparks flew in the air, as did some fur & plaster.

As the debris settles, Lamont is seen gnawing on fragments of a silver whirligig while Gordo bats about a small red cap.

Lamont & Gordo defeated Metro, Gastro, Terror & Gee Gnome in the Battle of Madison’s Yard. But the war may have just begun.

THE END

Ha! Dogs vs. Gnomes. Loved it. Especially the names – Gordo, Lamont, and the Gnome family (Metro, Gastro, Terror and Gee).

Thanks @MadisonZyluk for supplying the photo. Your dogs are pretty cute. And thanks to all the writers – @FeliciaCago @hwtibbs @jimmydoestea @jsetlak @paulmtracy @thatgirlmari. Special shout out to @Paulmtracy, who was writing with us for the first time. Hopefully I’ve got another addict.

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