Wallaby flash fiction contest results

Words I had to look up:

Aphra Pell
brobdingnagian

I miss you too beloved Duchess
Dena Pawling

this doesn't quite work as a story,
but honestly, Theremin, son of Thespian is so hilarious,
this deserves a shout out.
Casual-T



Desitined for Carkoon, of course
Steve Forti

“I’d enjoy watching the Rays hoist the World Series trophy. Closest we came to a Tampa WS title was the loss in ’08.”

“They’ve only played for twenty-two years. Talk to a Cleveland fan if you wanna know about waiting for a winner.”

“Still less agonizing than the Long Night before Winds of Winter. Add in the dumpster fire of Season 8, and that fandom is fubar. Kingdoms will rise and fall before that book comes out.”

“But it pales next to…”

“Best to eschew direct commentary on that, lest ye like Carkoon.”

“…the wait for Janet’s contest winner.”

followed closely by his companion in crime, John Davis Frain

The pounding continued until Phelonius opened the gate.

“No deliveries accepted here,“ he barked. “You want Gate 12.”

“This one’s special delivery, mate.” The deliveryman swatted giant mosquitoes, then exited.

Crowbar in hand, Phelonius ripped open the crate. Tears of joy escaped.

“Oh my my. Aren’t you—”

“Forti, sir. F-O-R—”

Phelonius raised a hand. “A thought. Speaking landed you here. So, don’t.” Phelonius couldn’t resist a chuckle. Rubbed his, errr, paws together in delight. “She’s been expecting you.”

Forti wanted to ask about Carkoon.

Phelonius thwarted him. “Sorry, we’re even beneath Carkoon, kid. Here, you judge the contest results.”

Now I know why JDF tweeted this early Sunday morning 

Oh Timothy, you've sunk to a new Lowe.
And Colin Smith just followed right along.




Here are the entries that Wallaby chose.
(he might have had some help)

Matt Krizan

My human is writing again.

It’s not going well.

He barks a curse, rousing me from nap number forty-two.

Clearly, he needs my help. I shall bring wit and sagacity to bear. (Such magnanimity is common among my kind.)

I leap onto his desk. My paws depress keys, leaving poetry in my wake.

I’m summarily removed to the floor, and he deletes what I’ve written.

The problem becomes obvious: he has no taste.

A game, then, to escape such drudgery. One I particularly enjoy.

Back onto the desk. I swat the mug full of pencils to the floor.

I wait.

Dena Pawling

Proper training ensures a compliant servant to bring you joy. Where to rub your ears. Which foods to buy. Which games to play.

Sometimes it takes paws [or claws] to their toes to ensure compliance, but a fully trained servant like mine is beyond priceless.

When I left three months ago, my servant's life was forever changed. Humans now wear masks. Streets are empty, or full of protesters. My servant hides under the duvet and never goes outside. And, GASP, she put one of those barkers on her blog. Sanity gone.

I miss you too, Thumbs.

Love and yowls

Katy

Beth Carpenter

Danger comes daily. Sometimes creeping, other times brazen, testing the gate. Even in sleep, my ears remain vigilant. I recognize the SOS, stop-go-stop, as his steed approaches. I leap from my bed, paws sliding on the slick floor.

My toes dig in and I rush the arrowslit, leaping, snorting, barking. “You shall not pass!” My tail reveals the joy I take in my chosen vocation.

Beyond the wall, Danger is defiant. But when I show him my teeth, he flees, leaving tribute at the gate. I withdraw but remain alert for his inevitable return.

It’s a cul-de-sac.

Tess Rook

The vault door swung open.

“We have 5 minutes before the Law shows up, so keep your ears open and stay on your toes.” Max started grabbing any treasure he could get his paws on.

My taste was more refined. I snatched my single prize and slipped out. The door closed behind me, locking Max inside.

His barks grew frantic when he realized what I’d done. He’d take the fall for the entire Pantry Heist – the fact filled me with joy. I took my stolen catnip, and my leave.

Stupid dog.

Mallory Love

Disguised as a joyride, Harold drove, looking for a way to escape. To embark on a new journey, leaving behind his worries and fears. Embracing this outlook, he decided to pick up the hitchhiker and his dog.

“Nice pup. Reminds me of my own,” Harold said. The man only nodded. Harold turned up the radio, interrupting the silence. Breaking news came in about a murderer on the loose who had a Rottweiler he fed his prey to.

The men glanced at each other, then at the dried bloody prints- paw shaped- on the floorboard.

Harold smiled at his last victim.

Just Jan

Wally pulled the pup from her crate. “This here’s Marie, the most special one I got.”

“Her ears are crooked.” Sarge knelt down and touched his face almost to the pavement. He never brought a dog home without kicking the proverbial tires a bit. “And she’s missing two toes on her back paws.”

“They was amputated, on account of them getting stuck in a bear trap.” It wasn’t the whole truth, but it wouldn’t be a deal breaker.

Sarge stood up. “Then what’s so special about her?”

“Well, sir, she barks joy.”

Sarge opened his wallet. “Name your price.”

These are the entries that stood out for me

Aphra Pell

Chester flicked his tail, demolishing the laboratory wall. He stared at the scientist pinned beneath his claw.
“Youu trrrricked meee” he purred.
Chasing tiny cars and bopping trees with brobdingnagian paws was fun. The taste of next door’s barking rottweiler lingered joyfully on his whiskers. But puny humans screamed when he sat on them and there were no giants to rub his ears, no laps to knead with his toes.
He looked at the lab assistant cowering behind the machine.
“Tuurrrrrrrn it onnnnnn”
Chester picked up the squirming scientist in his jaws. Time to make himself a friend.

This just cracked me up.


Brigid

"Bob, ark's thataway."
Scratched ears, splayed toes in dirt, rolled in...
"Euuurgh. Old McGrumpybeard will never let you on smelling like that. Good thing it's raining. Suds up."
Aw.
"Stop bellyachin'. Rinse off those horns. All of 'em. Ruff too. Eww, not on me!"
Distracted by nibbles.
"Geroff that hibiscus, you big--Bob, hurry up, the ark's...oh."
Well.
Snort, lick, joy.
"You meant to miss it, you goober."
Nudge.
Shrug.
"Race you to the fort!"

I've always loved stories about the animals that didn't make the Ark!

Beth Carpenter (also a Wallaby choice)

Danger comes daily. Sometimes creeping, other times brazen, testing the gate. Even in sleep, my ears remain vigilant. I recognize the SOS, stop-go-stop, as his steed approaches. I leap from my bed, paws sliding on the slick floor.

My toes dig in and I rush the arrowslit, leaping, snorting, barking. “You shall not pass!” My tail reveals the joy I take in my chosen vocation.

Beyond the wall, Danger is defiant. But when I show him my teeth, he flees, leaving tribute at the gate. I withdraw but remain alert for his inevitable return.

It’s a cul-de-sac.

Took me a minute to get this, but when I did...well, I'm still laughing



Tess Rook (also a Wallaby choice)

The vault door swung open.

“We have 5 minutes before the Law shows up, so keep your ears open and stay on your toes.” Max started grabbing any treasure he could get his paws on.

My taste was more refined. I snatched my single prize and slipped out. The door closed behind me, locking Max inside.

His barks grew frantic when he realized what I’d done. He’d take the fall for the entire Pantry Heist – the fact filled me with joy. I took my stolen catnip, and my leave.

Stupid dog.

Of course, this would have won instantly had Her Grace and Sleekness the Duchess of Yowl been the judge.


travelkat

The Joy of Cooking

“I dug up some onions but it’s the wrong season for tomatoes, you’ll have to improvise.”

“My sun-dried explorer’s chili always works out.”

“Are you sure about dining al fresco? I’m worried about the weather, and this is a perfect man-cave meal.”

“Have some taste for adventure.”

“Look, there’s things we do in the woods, but cooking really isn’t one of them.”

“We need more tenderizing. Keep shaking!”

The bears dug their paws into the birch bark canoe and rocked it back and forth as hard and fast as they could.

Clark clutched Lewis and shrieked.

Since I'm from the Pacific Northwest, Lewis and Clark stories resonate with me. Did you know they had a Newfoundland with them on their trek to the Pacific?




Like the Let's Get Cookin flash fiction contest, the entries that stood out on this one were mostly the ones that made me laugh.

I thank all ofyou who took the time to write and post entries.
Some of them I didn't quite get.
Several others were just too heart grabbing. My heart was already battered this week, it was hard to read them.

We need two winners this week, the ones that both Wallaby and I chose: Beth Carpenter and  Tess Rook!

Beth, you're cleaning up! I hope you need more books!

Tess, drop me a line and let me know your mailing address and what you like to read!