Session November 4, 2017e

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Many volcanoes have erupted in recent times.
by MD

Doris the duck paddled around the pond, following the pattern of her daily, early morning exercise routine. As her webbed feet circled in the murky water, she counted off the laps with quacks and squawks. 

"Sixty seven, duck, duck, goose," she recited to herself, "goose, goose, duck." It was her mantra, each repetition of the duck, duck, goose lyric kept her webbed feet in circular motion with the rhythm of the words. "Sixty eight, duck, duck, goose," Doris chanted, delighted with her progress towards her ultimate goal of one hundred circuits of the body of water she called home.

On lap sixty nine, the fit as a fiddle duck was dismayed to see Danny, he interloping intruder, swimming rapidly towards her. "Goose, goose, duck, it's that darn Danny," Doris thought. "Get away from me, Danny, duck, duck, goose," Doris squawked. Danny was undeterred, however, and to her dismay, he jumped upon her back, his webbed feet digging into her downy feathers.

"Many volcanoes have erupted in recent times," Danny honked. "My instincts tell me to seek higher ground. I think your back, Doris, gives me just the lift I need to survive the onslaught."

"You stupid goose, goose, duck...seventy one," said Doris. "Seventy one? Seventy? Seventy two? Now I've lost count. Time to start over. Duck, duck, goose...one."

The last anyone saw them, the two were continuing to circle the pond. Doris swimming gamely if somewhat more submerged, Danny astride her, scanning the horizon for volcano smoke.

"Duck, duck, goose...twenty one." Doris never did complete her self-imposed morning ritual, which had now become a 24-hour a day marathon. "Goose, goose, duck...thirty three? Thirty four? Danny, which lap was that?"

Danny, as usual, did not reply. It was on lap thirty that he first viewed the lava flow. He honked excitedly, content with his perceived safety on the "higher ground" of Doris' back.

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It started out as a harmless April Fool's prank.
by JL

John Beagle stared out the window at his friend, Albert Labrador, coming to his door. "Shh, hide," he said. He and the other dogs took their positions. There was a knocking at the door. 

"John? Are you in there?" Albert called at us above the door. He cleared his throat, "You wanted to see me, John?"

As he slowly entered the foyer they pulled the door closed with a slam. Albert reeled at the sound and steeled his nerves. "Very funny, John, very funny, indeed." But rather than sounding forceful his voice was rather high pitched. He cleared his throat again and entered the study where fires had been lit. Albert pulled at his pipe and lit it, hoping to calm himself.

The poodle hidden behind a chair took his cue and stoked the flame until it practically roared out of the fireplace. John screamed, and Albert, rapidly moving backwards and tripping over the expensive rug, said "Where are you?" The dogs hidden around the house smiled and took out their magnifiers, laughing and moaning into them. Albert hid under one of the draped tables, eyes and ears closed, tail quivering between his legs. 

John Beagle lifted up the drape and screamed with all his might, "April Fools, Albert!" 

Albert, in his fright on hearing the words, bolted straight through the window and into the woods. Something happened, whether it was the stress of the prank or 5 days in the woods, no one can say, but ever since Albert Labrador has been white as snow and crazy as a loon. John Beagle would often look sad and guilty. "It started out as a harmless April Fool's prank. Whatever the case it still stands that since that day Albert has only said one thing: I forgot my pipe."

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In the old days her mother had planted flowers along the lane.
by AL

In a lunchbox hidden away
A fairy village will stay
Where a girl and mother live
With plants and a home no-one will see
And a rock path hidden by a fairy tree
Where her mother planted flowers
Along their lane in the old days
When fairies and the humans would play
But now they're stowed away
Living in their lunchbox home
But with each other and not alone
Waiting for the day
When the humans will come back
When believing overcomes fact
And they will come and play
Dance and sing about mysteries
But till then those days live in memories
With the hidden path secret flowers
These simple hidden reminders
Of days when fairies weren't forgotten.

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I checked to make sure that he was still alive.
by CT

"Oh, my," I thought. "Whatever is this?"

On the steps of the abandoned, decrepit schoolhouse he (it?) sat. His body appeared to be that of a ten year old child. Work boots that an overgrown woodsman might wear enveloped his feet and lower legs. He wore a full monkey-head mask.

"Hello," I said. "Are you lost? Can I help you?"

Unblinking eyes stared over my shoulder. No response, no movement answered me. 

I stepped forward - nothing. I checked to make sure that he was still alive. The cold, rigid fingers confirmed my fear. 

I turned and ran to the car. "911," I thought. "I gotta call 911." 

In the stillness I heard the voice.

"Go," it said. "Go, before it's too late."

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Both my parents were tall and they both had eagle eyes.

By CC

Harvey was born with a strange genetic defect which he tried to conceal by wearing ever more outlandish jewelry. His mother shook her head with dismay at the piercings and feathers but his Dad said, “Let it be. He has the blood of a giraffe, what do you expect from him anyway?”

“Well he doesn’t have the blood of a boar,” she snapped, swiveling on her long legs as she ducked to leave the room. She hated being blamed for everything. 

Harvey was listening to them as he attached another neck ring. He admired his new hat in the hall mirror before heading out the door into the yard. In the back, he could hear his mother munching on some of the leaves on the trees in the back yard. He knew it was hard for her to prepare all the food she served for them. She often told him how much work it was for no good reason and could never understand why his Dad refused to graze.

At school Harvey was often ridiculed by other kids, even after the piercing, which he had hoped would deter snide remarks. But his main concern was protecting his parents. Whenever he was asked about his family, he would say “Both my parents were tall and they both had eagle eyes.” That made everyone look at his eyes instead of…everything else, plus it sounded good. However it was a fib.

That evening Harvey hung up his hat and put his bag back in his room before heading to the dining room where his Mom usually had dinner set out. But today there was nothing. He looked outside and saw the truck and trailer were gone. Maybe they had gone grocery shopping. That was always a long trip because his Dad had to drop his Mom near the zoo where she could snack without attracting too much attention. He always joked that he had met her at the zoo. Harvey thought this just might have been the truth. Oh, well. Today, Harvey would have to forage for himself. The leaves on the mulberry tree shone deliciously in the late afternoon sun.

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He tore the paper up and threw it out the window.

By RC

Excerpt from the exciting book, Alex, the War Dog:

Alex was a good pug, he really was. He tried hard to do everything he was told to do and to always perform in top notch fashion. After all, he was an English dog and they had to be a cut above. However, Alex only looked tough; he really was a sweetheart inside. His handler—or, as he liked to think of him, his best friend—Jeffrey, had the greatest trust in his abilities. Jeffrey had trained Alex himself, at the beginning of the last Great War, and they had gone through the whole thing together. The job they had given him was a simple one, consisting of two tasks: first, locate the enemy by smell; and second, carry messages as needed between HQ and the front lines. Alex couldn’t remember how many of the enemy soldiers he had bitten in the line of duty, but there had been plenty. At the end of the war, Jeffrey had gotten a commendation, and so had Alex.

These days, however, were not as exciting. Oh, Alex never complained. Finding lost people in the woods was a very fulfilling task, and he had saved many a lad or lassie. But, in-between there was not much to do. When Jeffrey took Alex to the city there was a bit more fun, nipping down all the alleys and sniffing in the doorways. One never knew when the odor of some canine fraulein would waft his way. He’d known a few in France, but that was long ago.

The event of this little story happened during his most recent trip to the city. He’d crossed a street improperly, it seemed, and an unusually grumpy and female copper had given him a ticket—actually tucked it inside his belt, although he was perfectly capable of carrying it in his mouth without sullying the paper. Jeffrey had gone inside an establishment and Alex was waiting, but he had caught sight of something suspicious across the street. Someone running away from a business when the whistle blew. Of course, Alex being the obedient dog he was, had stopped in his tracks.

This really steamed Alex, because he might have been able to apprehend a villain. If he could have spoken, he would have said, “Do you know who you’re giving a ticket to?” The woman paid absolutely no attention to the medal on his cap, she was so dull-witted.

On the way home with Jeffrey, he just couldn’t stop fuming about the self-important female Bobby. Jeffrey had not noticed Alex’s mood, but it didn’t matter. “No one tickets a dog,” he kept saying to himself, “and no one knows my address.” Finally, he pulled out the ticket with his teeth. He tore the paper up and threw it out the window with one flick of his powerful head. “There,” he thought. “That ends the matter!” He couldn’t wait for his next life-saving foray in the woods.

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It was difficult to concentrate on what his son was saying.
by BG

Fluffball was a new member of the family. Frank had been walking along Main Street yesterday evening leisurely looking in windows of the shops along the way and his attention was drawn to this little critter bouncing up and down in the pet shop window, obviously trying to get his attention. Well, it worked. Frank stopped and watched him for a full hour tirelessly doing tricks and acrobatics and doing wheelies around the space that had been allotted to him in that window. Frank found himself entering the shop, going up and down the aisles collecting supplies he would need and letting the clerk know he'd be taking the little guy home.

Fluffball spent the night in a basket next to Frank and his wife's bed and in the morning, Frank took him out into the living room to meet the kids. He was so excited to show them how Fluffball did all sorts of tricks.  Frank Jr. and Betsy, his twin sister, were two years old and energetic, too, but they finally settled and sat cross-legged on the floor babbling to each other. Frank set Fluffball down in front of them and they babbled on. Fluffball was stunned; no tricks, no wheelies. He did not move. He just did not know what to do. He looked at Frank and then at Frank, Jr. Fluffball had never encountered a little person. He could not move because it was difficult to concentrate on what his son was saying. He did not think his tricks would impress them. Frank was disappointed. 

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There was sadness in her eyes and wonder and dismay."
by JS

Her entire life - all 24 months of it - Mazie had wanted a puppy. Yes from infancy, coo-ing in her crib, she'd called out pup pup pup pup puppee. Her father, a serious, arrogant man, had gloated to his wife, "Ah-ha! The first word uttered by most children is 'mama' however, you can see the baby's - what's her name again - obvious love for me! She's saying 'papa'!"

Stuffed dogs -fluffy and comforting though they might be - did little to satisfy her desire to have a real, live puppy. 

And then! On her 2nd birthday, Mazie's Aunt Agatha presented her with her very own little terrier. Mazie ran to the dog, "I love you, I love yo.....ahhhh ahhh choo."  The child could scarcely catch her breath! Her sneezing would not quit! And then - her legs! The huge red splotches!

"Oh, no," Aunt Agatha exclaimed as she moved to wrest the dog away from the little girl. "No, no," the child screamed "...aaah...aaah...choo!"