A prompt from our Daily Post here at WordPress (thanks to Kim for the challenge):
You have 20 minutes to write a post that includes the words mailbox, bluejay, plate, syrup, and ink. And one more detail… the story must include a dog named Bob
Bob licked his leg. After knocking the plate off the table and getting the gooey syrup everywhere, he needed a little cleaning up. His ears perked as he heard his human thumping down the stairs. Good! Maybe she had more syrup for him. He did like the sweetness.
“BOB! What have you done?” his human howled. “I go upstairs for one minute and look! Bad dog, bad bad dog!”
Bob slunk out of the room as she picked up the pieces of the plate. Geesh. She gets so upset by such little things. Humans are so temperamental, Bob thought. Just five minutes ago she loved me.
Bob decided to go out his door in the big human door. Maybe if he wasn’t there, she’d forget what he had done. And there was always things to sniff in the yard. Maybe that man who delivered the papers his human collected every day would be out there. He always ran when he saw Bob. Bob didn’t know why, but it sure was fun to watch.
Wagging his tail softly, Bob checked out all the corners of his yard. That dang cat from next door had cut through again. If Bob could just catch her doing it…… It was the birds, Bob knew. His human had set up feeders in the yard and the cat was hoping to catch one. As if.
Bob wandered over to the feeders, sniffing the ground. Squirrels had been by, probably to eat the seed dropped by the birds. Speaking of which–Bob turned his head to glare at the large bluejay spitting sunflower seeds at him. Bird thought he was safe up there. Maybe Bob would help that cat, just once!
His ears catching the sound of a truck, Bob bounded towards the front gate. The man with the papers was here! Bob woofed gleefully as the man dropped the paper by the mailbox. Startled, the man almost fell over as he shot back to his truck. It was petty, but Bob could be that way. Satisfied, Bob grabbed the paper and trotted back to the house. Maybe if he gave it to his human, she wouldn’t be mad anymore. Why was she mad? Bob couldn’t remember.
He dropped the paper in front of her. She gingerly picked up the paper, avoiding the wet spots.
“Oh Bob, you smeared the ink again,” she sighed before rubbing his head. “I guess that’s what I get for wanting a St Bernard. Drool and appetite!”
Laughing, she put her arms around Bob’s neck to snuggle. And everything was right in Bob’s world again.
17 minutes, not including spell check!