Saturday, August 4, 2012

Maybe She Will

This week's prompt.
Well, looks like you've gone and painted yourself into a corner again, Charles! How many times have I tried to warn you? Six? Seven? I've lost count, actually. I bark and I bark and I bark and what do you do? You just keep painting like the fool you are, telling me to be quiet so I don't disturb “The Lady” who, by the way isn't even home. That's right. She left hours ago. Went off in that weird little yellow suppository you keep drooling over like it was a fresh moose bone or something. There isn't even a back seat for me, for heaven's sake.

“Hey, Aticus. I think I'm done. Why don't you go fetch Jessica and bring her in to see my masterpiece?”

And now, what's that you say? You say you want me to go and get The Lady to come and see what you've done. Are you nuts? She'll take one look at you painted in place and she'll fire your creative ass right out of here. Oh, wait! She can't! You're stuck where you are until this smelly goop you used dries. And how long is that going to be? I ask you. Three – four days! At least!

You know I love you, Charles, but this kind of thing has to stop. You really have got to get it together. I need to pee. Who's gonna open the door for me so I can do that? No opposable thumbs here, buddy. Remember? Doors don't just open themselves.

“Atticus, are you still here? Go get Jessica, boy. Go get her!”

Clearly you've been sniffing too much turpentine, Charles. Okay, here's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna take this old boot over to the bed and chew on it for a while. It will take my mind off having to pee and when The Lady gets home I'll bark like mad until she comes in to investigate. It's the best I can do.

“No! Atticus. Stop! Bad boy! Get off the bed. Jessica will kill me! Oh, great. I've painted myself into the corner. Why didn't you warn me?”

This bed is much comfier than our bed, Charles. If you had a real job, maybe we could have a comfy bed like this one.

Oh, wait. I think I hear the suppository pulling in. Yep. The Lady is home.

(Loud barking shatters the peace.)

“Atticus. Quiet, boy!”

Hey, Charles. Do you think she'll like what you did to her ficus? Stripping all the leaves off like that was a nice touch. Adds to the macabre ambiance of the piece.

(The door to the bedroom where Charles has been working on a custom wall design opens and Jessica, The Lady of the house, walks in.)

“What is that dog doing on my bed? And what have you done to my ficus?

“Pretty cool, eh?

Time to sneak out for that pee while the door's open. I'll meet you in the truck, Charles. That is if you can figure out how to get out of that corner...

(An hour passes and Atticus gets tired of waiting.)

Well, imagine that! And here I thought she'd have a fit when she saw the mess in here. Looks like I was wrong about everything. Except the bed. Seems Charles and The Lady are finding it just as comfy as I did. I just hope she pays Charles this time. I could really use some kibble.

(A loud, satisfied groan is heard.)

Maybe she will!

Maybe she already has. Sigh.

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