The time has come, the wire-fox said,
To think of where we’re at.
You, young Jack, have just arrived,
And you are such a brat.
The pecking order must be set
And that’s an end to that.
I’m the leader of this pack
Whate’er the humans think
And if you try to push me out
I’ll kick up such a stink
You need to understand, I’m not
As soft as you may think
Get your puppy-tail down here
Your place is down below
As the alpha male, I should
Be up there, as you know.
Your turn will come after I’m gone
Though I’m not keen to go.
Now listen here, the Jack replied
Your mind is in a muddle
I’ve seen what you’re like in the night
I’ve seen you leave a puddle.
Just stay down there, enjoy the view
While I enjoy a cuddle.
Admit you’re old, your wiriness
And up here you can’t scamper,
And that it falls to me to join
Our mistress for a pamper.
But worry not, my foxy friend,
There’s still room in the camper.
This was written in response to Kreative Kue 208 published on this site.
I found this little bird
And I know it sounds absurd
But I caught her eating berries from a bush
She pooped when I first held her
I could tell the fruit was elder
By the colour of what came out of her tush
She’s a black cap, I can see
Juvenile, she has to be
Yes, I know that by the colour of her head
It’ll go black when she’s older
Just the top, not from her shoulder.
If I’d left her in the tree she might be dead.
I grabbed her on a hunch
That the hawk was after lunch
Did I say a hawk was clearly on the hunt?
Some words I mustn’t use
So a better one I’ll choose
Let’s just say a rescue seemed well worth a punt.
I’m aware I’ve saved her bacon
By the chance that I have taken
But I must decide what we should do with her
If it’s safe to set her free
Then I think we’ll all agree
I should do it now, and not succumb to dither.
This was written in response to Kreative Kue 205 published on this site recently.
Kreative Kue 199 asked for submissions based on this photograph:
John W Howell is the author of the John Cannon trilogy of My GRL, His Revenge, Our Justice and Circumstances of Childhood, co-author of The Contract, and blogs at Fiction Favorites.
The Square by John W. Howell © 2018
“Okay this is part 24B so why doesn’t it fit in slot 24?”
“You sure you read the instructions right?”
“I did. The next step is to fit part 24B into slot 24.”
“Why is the part so short then? Slot 24 is a foot bigger.”
“Yeah, that has me puzzled as well.”
“I have never seen such a confused mess in my whole life.”
“What do you mean ‘confused mess?’”
“Just look at this thing. Half the parts are not the right size, and it seems some are missing.”
“I checked all the parts before I began and they were all here.”
“Then why do you seem to have run out of material?”
“If I knew that I would have this conundrum solved. I called you for help not for stating the obvious.”
“Okay. I get it. Let me look at the plan.”
“It’s over there under the coffee cups.”
“Let me see. I just love these Ikea directions. I have a mechanical engineering degree and feel underqualified.”
“So what do you think?”
“For starters did you look at the picture?”
“No. Can’t say I did.”
“If you had you would realize this is supposed to be a square.”
“A square? I didn’t buy a square. I bought a rectangle. The foundation is for a rectangle.”
“You better look at your order then. You have a square. Did you get this at the Ikea store?”
“No, I ordered it online.”
“I think you better return it. You will never have enough material to finish a rectangle.”
“Look at my order. It clearly says the measurements are a rectangle.”
“All the better. It is their fault then. Wait what is this message in red?”
“Please check your order carefully before you begin assembly. No refunds or returns once assembly has begun.”
“Looks like you are screwed.”
“What if I order another square?”
“Humm let me see. If I measure the sides and multiply by two. Yes, that will work.”
“I’m going to do it right now.”
“Just your luck you will get a rectangle.”
“That will work too.”
“Just think of the money you saved by ordering online.”
“Dark sarcasm in the classroom.”
Meanwhile, my effort was:
I don’t want to hear you grouse,
This will be your brand new house.
Its construction will bring you much fame and glory.
There’ll be room for all you need,
From restrictions, you’ll be freed
Even though it only has a single storey.
Do I look like I’m a prat?
I can never fit in that,
Though I know my height is somewhat short on inches.
Even my small bed won’t fit
And there’s no place to have a s**t,
And where can I put my gilded cage of finches?
I care nought about your birds,
Even less about your t***s.
You can stand because the roof has quite a pitch.
There’s enough room for your bed,
Just as sure as my name’s Fred.
For the rest, you must accept that life’s a bitch.
Fred is surely not your name.
You have always been the same.
I’ll move out, because I know that’s what you’d rather.
You really needn’t worry;
I will go, though I won’t hurry.
But I still say that’s no way to treat your father!
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 email@example.com before 6pm on 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, with links to your own blog or web site, on Monday.