Kreative Kue 335

Kreative Kue 334 asked for submissions based on this photograph:

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John W Howell is a multiple nominated and award-winning author who blogs at Fiction Favorites. Details of John’s books can be found on his Amazon author page

Show me the Way to Go Home by John W. Howell © 2021

“Okay, you want to tell me what made you do that?”

“What?”

“Tell the boss that he could take a hike.”

“He was getting on my nerves.”

“For heaven’s sake. That’s what humans do.”

“Well, I just couldn’t take any more.”

“Your barking was getting annoying.”

“Did you see all those people we passed?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“They needed to be taught a lesson.”

“Which is?”

“This is my Earth, and you need to get off.”

“Says the narcissistic sociopath.”

“Aw, come on. You know you would like to bark those idiots to mars.”

“But I don’t, and that is the difference.”

“I would say the boss needed to be taught a lesson.”

“Which was.”

“Don’t stand between a dog and his bark.”

“Okay. Maybe you need to be taught a lesson too.”

“And what would that be?”

“How to start and drive a car.”

“Yeah. Maybe I was a bit rash.”

“You think?”


My effort was:

Dog Daze

Summer had been long, dry and sweltering. Throughout our lives, we two terriers had never known a heatwave last so long. For more than two months, the thermometer had regularly topped 40°C whilst the rain gauge had remained stubbornly at 0mm. Overnight lows of, regularly, more than 20°C ensured that no-one, human or canine, managed more than a few snatched hours of sleep. The link between temperatures and tempers was well established, too. Even I, known locally for my calm and docile demeanour, was becoming somewhat short and snappy. Trevor, of course, being a Jack Russell Terrorist Terrier, was never expected to be anything other than crabby and cantankerous, like a firecracker with a short fuse and a loud report. He never disappoints.

The master took us out for a drive most days. Experience had shown him that, with the top down on his beloved little sports car, we revelled in and were calmed by the wind battering our faces, particularly when the master pushed above 120kph on the autoroutes. It may have taken almost an hour to reach the faster road, but we dogs were convinced it was time well spent. So was the master, who would probably still have made the journey for his own benefit, had we not pestered him to do it for ours.

Today, though, for the first time in a hundred days, it was raining. The mistress was overjoyed. She had long been complaining about the lack of rain; how it forced her to spend long hours with hosepipes and watering cans – until, that is, the local government issued a moratorium on their use. Since then, it was a case of redirecting the wastewater from the washing machine and dishwasher into a butt and using that and bathwater to keep her precious vegetables from drying up and dying.

The master was less enthusiastic. Truth be told, he revelled in his daily drive with his dogs. That it was costing him a small fortune in petrol was another matter, as was his unquestioned contribution to the atmospheric damage that was doubtless at the root of this abnormally long hot period. He loved the open road, though. Loved the feel of the wind in his hair – much to the annoyance of his dermatologist who spent time in every one of their consultations imploring the master to keep his head and upper body protected from the deleterious effects of exposure to the hot sun. True, he did use sunscreen, but not as much, not as often and not as high factor as the doctor recommended. And the result was an annual rash of nitrogen blisters, which, in fairness, the master accepted with equanimity, aplomb, and just a modicum of resignation.

But I digress.

It’s raining. We’re stuck in this tiny car with the top up. I don’t know about Trevor, but I’m finding it more than a little claustrophobic in here. The absence of air movement, the increasing temperature, and the incessant hammering of the rain on the canvas roof are conspiring to drive me absolutely nuts.

Get out of the car? Are you having a laugh? It’s chucking it down out there!


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On to this week’s challenge: Using this photo as inspiration, write a short story, flash fiction, scene, poem; anything, really; even just a caption for the photograph. Either put it (or a link to it) in a comment or email it to me at keithchanning@gmail.com 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.

Go on. You know you want to. Let your creativity and imagination soar. I shall display the entries next Monday.

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