Join The Network Of Writers

Publish content and earn money using your own ads.

Short Stories

Pi Day

joes not here man's picture
It was a lonely day on the 13th, a Saturday in a large house alone. The taunting sun outside was blasting with its temptation, I sit alone and drunk. Awoken by a message received on my phone, I looked and read a worried barrage of messages from my dearest, the room suddenly stopped spinning, she was saying to call her...so I did.

Widow and Luke and Quakers ... The Farm Vacation

Robert Alford's picture
Well, the day had come to make a decision about leaving the pups on my friend's farm while I take the family on a much-needed vacation. The question loomed high above my head until I saw them being chased by the duck in the yard. Quakers had a hold of Luke's tail and Widow was running out of fear that he'd be next. Since it was about noon, I figured they must have disturbed his ducky nap (he always grabs a little snooze around 11:30) he gets pretty cranky if he doesn't get his sleep. Anyway, as I gaze out at this turmoil, it came to me. We are really "vacationing" from these three nut jobs more than anything else. "Of course! We could drop them at the farm, including the new ring leader, Quakers". But first, I had to figure out how to do it without my friend getting wise to what a potential disaster this bunch could bring. I mean, if he gets the slightest hint about these guys he will became an ex-friend, fast. My friend Charles is a writer also and long ago left the city for the slow comfortable life of the country. He was one of those laid back guys that you know. He raised his kids by the Gestalt method and owned at least six pair of reading glasses and had patches on the elbow of his jackets. He even owns a pipe but doesn't smoke. On the farm, he's a "you can't take the city with you" kind of guy. He's a marshmallow but tightly wound in the middle and he's ready to burst if he is taken from his comfort zone. But he has a great love for animals and I knew that they would be safe with him no matter what. It was Charles I was worried about. He also has other animals and two kids which I thought would be good for all. But would we be able to bring him out of the shock of the dynamic trio? Would he ever be the same? Would his family forgive him? Would he be able to repair his home? Too many questions remained as we turned down the dirt road leading to his house. I had already picked up the duck and dog food and faxed him the instructions for feeding; (basically) open bag and hide your fingers. It has been decided that this would be a "staycation", just a trial for a few days to see if all goes well. As we approached the farmhouse, I was taken back by how lovely the setting was. Rows of corn growing in the sun, a garden with all kinds of vegetables, an old iron-handled water pump; it was like Norman Rockwell could have appeared from behind the antique Cola sign he had attached to his barn door. What was about to happen was going to be awful. The pups are in separate cages and duck is in a box. All are deposited on the doorstep with about three tons of food and we leave after my friend takes custody but before he opens the cages. Three days later: Another broken man; "so long mister marshmallow". After our hasty departure on our experimental vacation, I did not hear from my friend Charles for days. Then from out of the blue came a phone call. My wife answered and gave me the simple message "come and get'em"." "Was that Charles", I asked? "I think so but that's all he said. He didn't sound the same." "I guess I'll get out there and retrieve them" I said and started off out the door. I got there about an hour before sunset and was told by his wife that he was out back. I found him sitting on a five gallon paint bucket with two six packs beside him. "Charles I thought you quit drinking years ago". Looking at the ground, he raised his head slowly, handed me a beer and said, "I did". What followed was a tale of woe that I was all too familiar with and that would kill my vacation hopes for now. All seemed to be O.K. the first day. The pups seemed to be happy and very playful while getting accustomed to their new surroundings. Even Quackers was quiet and took to hanging out in the water bucket under the hand pump in the yard. But on day two, the kids ran in and reported that they could not find the new pets anywhere. "We looked everywhere for them but they were nowhere to be found." Late that night, he got a call from a neighbor down the road who said he had two small dogs on his property and that he was trying to find out where they lived. When he arrived at the house (about 3 miles away), he was met with the man holding the mutts in a box; he was also holding a piece of paper listing the damages they had caused. Destroyed flower beds, torn sheets and clothing from ripped clothes line, sack of corn seed ruined, one chewed tractor seat, bucket of barn paint, etc. It all came up to about $315 and that did not include the food he fed them or the one apple pie (left cooling on the porch). They ate and enjoyed it, he did not. Charlie promised to let him use his new tractor until he could get him a new seat and let him know that when he got in touch with me, we would figure out the rest. The farmer then told him that his other neighbor would like to talk to him as well; the pups had hit the other property first and had done considerably more damage. All told just over $700 damage. He returned the pair back home to his house and placed them in the house for his wife to look after while he searched for Quackers. He assumed that the little duck was near by because he was not a flyer yet. After a bit, one of his kids found the duck in the hay loft and brought him down to the house. When he got back to the house he found the dogs had broken the screen in the back door and took off once more. This time the kids gave chase but lost them in the woods that surrounded his property. In the confusion the duck had ran off again and joined the pups on the "great escape" and was last seen running with the pack. He searched for them again till late but turned up nothing. Early the next morning, he heard something outside and when he got to the see what it was, he tripped over the giant bag of dog food I had delivered with the dogs. The pups had chewed through it and inadvertently dragged it to a point near the door where he tripped over it. "It was like they knew what they were doing and were organized," he said as he finished what looked to be his first six-pack and continued to ramble about the calamities. "And...the chickens, horses and cows, how could they have ALL gotten loose? And all at the same time?" "I've never seen anything like it! They didn't sleep all night! They just ran in and destroyed things, then ran back out. Over and over again! After we brought them back from the neighbors a day and a half ago, my family did not get a wink of sleep the whole time". " I couldn't even catch the duck but he kept up with them" "We finally got them into the barn when my wife got the idea to put an apple pie inside and we waited in the house. When they came back the duck was riding on the spotted dogs back. Have you ever seen that"? He'd shut the door from the outside and he and the kids were able to catch all three and place them back into their cages and they have been waiting there ever since. I picked up the little monsters and drove off back home, slowly I passed the totally ruined garden, a ripped up small corn field, the antique coke sign (now lying on its side by the road) and the other farm animals now wondering aimlessly on the property. I watched my friend, now drunk and crushed, stumble back inside his farmhouse and knew that we would never see this place again. Cost of experiment, just over $1,000 = no vacation. Well, I wish I could say I learned something and I guess I did, 1. Staycations are not as inexpensive as you would think. 2. Never underestimate a ducks ability to ride a dog.

Widow and Luke ... Bath Day Blues

Robert Alford's picture
Well, the kids named the new member of our ever-growing family and their choice was as weird as the new member himself. They chose a conglomeration of many suggested names by the readers here at Associated Content, which I initially thought was fair but when I saw what they came up with, well you decide. His name, I thought was Lucky Diego but the kids quickly corrected me that it is in fact L.D. Diego (Lucky Duck Diego). I just call him Waddle. As you know, this story is late and there is a good reason (more like a bad one) for it. It is kind of complicated so I will start at the beginning. Last week, when we got back from the park, my wife and I decided that the dogs were too dirty to enter the house; actually, she accused all of us of this, including me. So, it was now time to get in the long bath line, which formed at the minute you exited the car. I quickly ran to the garage shower to beat the crowds. My wife said that the plan was to wash the pups first since that would probably get the kids really filthy and sweaty. So we ran the water and tested for temperature friendliness and Widow was summarily placed in. Thus ended his long love and trust for us. Note to myself: (Widow hates baths) The moment he was placed in, he went berserks. He was freaking out and splashing water in a giant wave of froth. He kept leaping and squirming and jumping towards the edge of the bath until he managed to go get loose and run squirting out into the house. Note to myself: (Never bath dogs in the house) Widow ran so fast that his wet little paws could not grip the floor properly and there came a series of crashes into the walls as he tried turning the corners in the house. He was wildly trying to make it back to his only house haven, in the closet in my study. Although this totally freaked out the kids and my wife, when the cloud of bubbles and suds had cleared, in the air, there was the image of a terrified Widow, hiding in the corner shivering as if to say, "What the heck was that all about?" After a few seconds of astonishment, the kids burst into uncontrollable laughter. Note to the readers:(about laughter in my house) There are rarely any small laughs where the kids are concerned; both of the kids are like laughter junkies. They can't get enough of it. They have always been that way. Whenever something funny happens they just double up and roll over in laughter and this can be quite embarrassing at times. Once at church, a woman in the front pew across from us reached down to retrieve her collection plate money. She had dropped it and her wig had fallen off. My kids thoroughly embarrassed us. The way my son was howling, I thought that he was going to loose a liver and my little girl was in tears holding her belly. Needless to say, we had to find another church. Having said that, the event that had just transpired and the fact that my wife and both kids were covered with suds after trying to keep freaked out pup in the tub (well, as we looked at each other for a moment the laughter was soon to come). And that is what I entered to find; my wife and kids laughing themselves silly in the bathroom. They were covered in suds along with the freaked out puppy Luke, who is probably even more frightened now witnessing this, and me being totally confused. "So you got Widow all done. That was quick," I said only to be met by more thunderous laughter. Little did I know at the time that little puppy coward was know dripping wet and hiding directly on top of my wireless keyboard which was on the floor in the closet. Finally, they calmed down enough to tell me what had happened and I set out to find the little water coward. He was not hard to track, his wet paw prints were very apparent in the hallway and his inability to negotiate the corners was clear by his little wet head marks that were made from him sliding into the walls again and again. He was backed into the dark closet, his soapy face peering out through the darkness and whimpering until I arrived with a little bribe. The puppy treat soon persuaded him to give up his closet fortress for my drying blanket and snacks. Having regained Widows trust I set my sights for his brother Luke. So with one pup wrapped in a towel, I approach the bath once more. More laughter from inside. I look in to catch the site of Lucky Duck swimming around a petrified Luke. The duck was quacking up a storm and wiggling his tail feathers in excitement. Apparently this was right up his alley and he was delighted. All the while, the pups stared at him in silence as if wondering, "What was this thing doing?" We let Luke sleep in the house that night, considering his life-altering experience and we did not hear a peep out of him or Widow all night long; strange. When I sat down to write of the week's events (in particular Saturday night) I found my keyboard, it was soapy and wet. It took me four days to clean it out before I could get it to work right but I was pleased that the puppies were alright and that I did not need another visit to the doggie therapist.