Tag: short fiction

Negotiating with Cookies – Stuck in the Mud

Published on by Raud Kennedy2 Comments

“Raud, I think you’re stuck in the mud,” Fleegle says.

“Why do you say that?”

“We need to do something new.”

“Don’t you like what you do everyday?”

“I like rolling in mud so much I could never get stuck. It’s you we’re talking about. You need to do something new. You seem bored, lacking excitement.”

“It’s just the winter doldrums.”

“Doldrums?”

“The blahs.”

“You don’t see me getting the blahs just because it’s cold and wet outside.”

“No, you’re impervious to weather related mood swings.”

“Ooo, a swing. I’ve never been on a swing. They look like fun. Maybe you should do that, go for a swing? I’ll push you, and then we can trade and you can push me. It’ll be just like flying in Fleegle World.”

“You remember your dreams?”

“Of course. Don’t you?”

“I can still taste the fur in my mouth.”

“You have to fly really high to get over the Chocolate Rockies. That mountainous tail whacked you in the head so hard it knocked you clear out of the dream.”

 

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Negotiating with Cookies – Fleegle Time

Published on by Raud KennedyLeave a comment

Monday morning, the thumping of Fleegle’s tail against my face wakes me. I vaguely remember flying in my dream, but it’s the dog fur in my mouth that has my attention now. It’s close enough time to the alarm clock going off that I get up and start my day, and soon Fleegle and I are on our way to our first appointment.

Fleegle watches the road closely from his co-pilot seat. He knows our work schedule based on the roads we take. “Ooo, we’re going to Little Daisy’s house. I love Little Daisy.”

“That’s right,” I say, but then get a phone call. I let it go to voice mail since I’m driving and then pull over when I can to check it. Little Daisy’s sciatica is acting up and her owner wants to reschedule for another day later in the week.

When traffic is clear, I make a u-turn and head to our next appointment, a dog we normally see on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but whose owner added an extra day this week.

“What are you doing?” Fleegle moans in near panic. “What about Little Daisy? I love her. She likes it when I groom her.”

“Change of plans.”

“That’s all you have to say, change of plans?” he says and growls, not happy with me for getting his hopes up to see Little Daisy and then letting him down, but he settles in to watching the road again. “Ooo, we’re going to Big Daisy’s house now. I love Big Daisy. She likes to wrestle.”

Big Daisy is a Newfoundland. “She sure does,” I say. Fleegle knows a lot of Daisys and Sadies and Zoës.

“But we don’t wrestle with Big Daisy until Tuesday. Is this Tuesday? What happened to Monday? Did we even have a Monday? Did your change of plans make Monday disappear? Just how long was that last nap of mine?”

 

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Negotiating with Cookies – Fleegle World

Published on by Raud Kennedy1 Comment

I lay in bed reading before going to sleep. Fleegle is stretched out on the bed, his paws twitching as he barks softly in his sleep. I put the book down on the nightstand and turn off the light, then click on the clock radio in sleep-mode and listen to two men discuss the approach of Planet-X and its significance on crop circles. Their voices are monotonous and soothing and I’m soon asleep.

Just as I wake from dreams in the mornings, I wake into a dream when asleep. I’m flying high above the bucolic English countryside with nothing but my will to fly as propulsion and my skinny arms as wings. It has been a while since I had a flying dream and I’m enjoying swooping through the air like a sparrow when I notice a giant crop circle below me. I fly higher for a better vantage point.

The crop circle is bigger than a football field and in the shape of a humongous Labrador retriever, complete with overflowing food bowl.

I catch movement in the corner of my eye. “Hey, what are you doing here?” Fleegle asks, now flying next to me, his floppy ears acting as wings. “This is my dream.”

“Aren’t you the one who’s always telling me to share?” I say.

“Yeah, but that’s your burrito or your cottage cheese, but if you think you’re up to experiencing Fleegle World, you’re more than welcome to share my dream. Are you?”

“Up to it? Sure.”

“You might not want to decide that so flippantly, we’re approaching the Chocolate Rockies.”

“What? Mountains made of chocolate?”

“Sort of.”

Looming ahead are what can only be described as a range of mountain size dog behinds, all with their snowcapped tails, waiving furiously, high in the sky.

My eyes bug out. “Oh my.”

“They’re very happy mountains,” Fleegle says and pours on the speed. “You can guess what’s on the other side.”

Not in Fleegle World. “No, tell me.”

“A mud puddle the size of an ocean the mountains drink from. Why else would they be so happy?”

 

Next: Negotiating with Cookies – Fleegle Time

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Negotiating with Cookies – There’s Only Now

Published on by Raud Kennedy2 Comments

I brush at the muddy paw prints on my t-shirt, only to smear them around and make them worse. “How many times have I asked you not to jump on me?”

Fleegle stops bouncing for a moment to think. “Two times. Yeah, no more than two times. But you didn’t really mean it because when you really mean something you say it three times.”

“Fleegle, I’ve asked you a zillion times not to jump on me.”

“No way.”

“Yes, way. What about yesterday and the day before and the day before that?”

He spins in a circle, then starts bouncing again. “What’s yesterday?”

“The day before today.”

“Don’t be silly. There’s only now. Come jump on strangers with me and give them kisses. It’s a lot of fun and they love it. They get excited and shout and wave their arms about.”

 

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Negotiating with Cookies – Hunters

Published on by Raud Kennedy2 Comments

Fleegle and I hear a bang in the distance, loud like a firecracker but with the distinctive echo of a rifle. Fleegle’s gaze darts to me as he freezes, eyes wide, body tense, ready to flee.

“Hunters,” I say. “That’s why you’re wearing that ugly orange vest, so some hunter with his beer goggles on doesn’t mistake you for a deer.”

His body relaxes as his mind makes associations. “I have a friend named Hunter.”

“Yes, you do.”

“He likes to hump me.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

“Are these hunters going to hump the deer?” Fleegle logic.

“Oh, look,” I say and point at the nearest tree. “Squirrel.” Human logic. When uncomfortable, obfuscate.

 

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Negotiating with Cookies – Super-sized

Published on by Raud Kennedy5 Comments

I’m seated at my desk, testing out a new black pen on a story idea.

“What are you doing?” Fleegle asks as he ambles into the den.

“I’m writing a story about Super Fatty.”

“Who is Super Fatty? Is he an action hero like Superman?”

“He’s an American who believes if a meal can’t be super-sized it’s only an appetizer, and that all health problems can be solved with a pills advertized on television. So there’s no need for him to take care of himself, just indulge all his cravings.”

“No, I meant what are you doing putting that black stuff on that paper? It looks like tiny strands of syrup. What flavor is it? Is it licorice? Can I taste it? Put some on my nose.”

I tear the paper off my pad, frustrated with the negative tangent I’ve taken the story down. “I’ll do you one better.” I wad it up into a ball. “We can play fetch with it.” I toss it across the room.

“Licorice fetch,” he says and runs after it. When he returns and drops it in my lap, he asks, “Can we play burger fetch next?”

“Would that be regular or super-sized?”

“Tiny-sized fetch would be fine with me as long as it’s with burgers, really greasy burgers.”

 

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