Kreative Kue 314 asked for submissions based on this photograph:
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
The Job by John W. Howell © 2021
“Would you look at that.”
“What the mess?”
“No, the dog.”
“What about him.”
“He’s sound asleep there.”
“Yeah, so what?”
“I hired him to empty all those boxes.”
“Well obviously he is not doing the job you hired him to do.”
“That’s obvious.”
“How much are you paying him?”
“$14.00 an hour.”
“Doesn’t seem like you are getting your money’s worth.”
“No kidding. What should I do?”
“Why don’t you hire him to sleep? I think you can get him at a cheaper rate.”
“I guess it’s my fault in the end.”
“Why’s that?”
“I should never have hired a dog to do a man’s work.”
“You open to being a little more broad minded?”
“What do you mean?”
“You said ‘man’s work.’”
“Yeah,so what?”
“Could a woman do the same work?”
“Sure.”
“You still paying $14.00 an hour?”
“I would like to, yes.”
“You just found the dog’s replacement. When can I start?”
“How about now?”
“Can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Need a nap.”
“Off the clock?”
“What are you paying the dog?”
“haven’t decided yet.”
“When you do I’ll nap at the same price. See ya.”
Tien Skye, who blogs at From the Widow Seat offered this tale. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
(Untitled) © 2021, Tien Skye
“Well, go on! Look at what you did!”
Cooper only laid his head down and whined.
“You are such a bad boy. Bad boy!” I continued relentlessly. “Don’t hide your face when I’m talking to you! Look around you! What did you do, huh? What did you do?”
Naturally, Cooper continued to ignore me and buried his head into the paper.
“Well? What are we going to do with all this, huh?” I questioned him in a scalding manner.
Cooper finally looked at me with those puppy eyes that he was too old yet completely suitable for. “I ordered the paper that you told me on Amazon and even managed to get them shipped. I just forgot it’s toilet paper that you wanted!”
My effort was:
It’s a Wrap!
“What are you doing, Hobie?”
“Quiet, Dad; please.”
“Hang on, fellah. You don’t tell me to be quiet. Now come on. What are you doing?”
“Ignoring you. mostly.”
“You have no right to ignore me, matey.”
“And yet you have the right, knowing I’ve been going blind for years and now have no sight left, to drag me from the home where I know the exact location of everything and could manoeuvre around the house without bumping into anything, and dragging me to this new house. I have no idea where anything is and I keep bumping into stuff. I don’t even know where the door is when I need to go out and relieve myself. So don’t talk to me about rights!”
“Steady on, old chap. You’ll love it here. No more having to walk along busy roads—”
“With which I was familiar.”
“No more being confined to a small back garden—”
“Which I knew my way around!”
“But there’s a big field attached to this house – almost an acre. You can walk around it to your heart’s content.”
“Yeah, and have no idea how to get back again.”
“You’ll soon get used to it, Hobie Would it help if I put up something that will make a bit of noise so you’ll be able to work out which direction to go?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether you’ll ever stop talking and give me the chance to listen to something else.”
“That’s hardly fair.”
“Isn’t it? What are you doing now?”
“Talking to you.”
“Exactly, whilst I’m trying to listen out for something.”
“What are you trying to hear?”
“This paper. It hasn’t made a sound yet.”
“What sound do you expect it to make?”
“Duh. What sort of paper is it?”
“Hahaha. I know what you’ve done.”
“What?”
“You heard me tell Mum about it, but obviously didn’t see the label.”
“So?”
“It’s wrapping paper, Hobie… wrapping with a W.”
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.
Rory Rogerson is 67; an overweight, unfit, retired ‘protection officer’ (that’s PC for hired muscle). He is also a prolific and, by his own reckoning, successful author of crime fiction.
