Talking Pet - 8/17

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Brian
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Talking Pet - 8/17

Postby Brian » Tue Aug 17, 2010 4:11 am


Brian
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Talking Pet - 8/17

Postby Brian » Tue Aug 17, 2010 4:11 am

One day you wake up to find your dog/cat waiting for you at the side of your bed, sitting on your briefcase. Cocking its head, it tells you, in perfect English, that you won’t be going to work today. Why won’t your pet let you go to work, and what happens?

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Re: Talking Pet - 8/17

Postby TDonna » Tue Aug 17, 2010 11:31 am

“Well, now that’s a fine way to greet me in the morning!”
I ruffled his furry top of the head and tapped his elongated nose with my finger.
“You don’t think I mean it.”
“No. No, I don’t. I think your wagging tail gives you away, Shepo.”
“I’ve got the car keys out of your purse last night and hid them so well, you won’t be able to find them if you were to call the search team to help you look.”
“Now that’s not funny. You know I’ve got to work. I have a packed day ahead of me with an office meeting at eight, clients coming in to sign their estate documents at nine o’clock, and an afternoon presentation. You can’t just decide in the morning I can’t go to work because . . .”
“Because I have a feeling you’d better take a day off.”
“That’s really cute. Now…get off of me so I can get ready.”
“How are you going to get there?”
“I’ll call a friend. Ha!”
“No. You can’t call a friend.”
“You’re in rare form this morning. But I’m calling a friend.”
“I’d like to see you do that.”
“You would now, would you?”
“Yeah. I had Muffy chew the phone line. You have no phone to call.”
“I can use my cell phone.”
“Gone.”
He shook his head back and forth, ears flapping in the air, and smacked his nose with his tickly tongue.
“Gone? Dare I ask how?”
“It’s not in the purse. You should know what you did with your cell phone. Am I your cell phone keeper?”
“Oh, Shepo. That’s not at all funny. What did I do with my cell phone?”
“That’s your sign.”
“What?”
“You have overworked yourself.”
“This has got to be a dream. I am dreaming. I am not really having this conversation at six o’clock in the morning with my dog.”
“This is not a dream. You and I are first going for a walk. When we return, you are going to make your latte. While you sip on your latte you will prepare the mouthwatering, scrumptious biscuits and the creamy, gooey, sausage gravy for us to share. How does that sound to you?”
“It sounds like the perfect start for a Saturday morning.”
“Let’s pretend it’s Saturday.”
“We can’t pretend, Shepo. It either is Saturday or it is not Saturday; and this is definitely not Saturday.”
“What if this was the last day of your life? Would you spend it as a Saturday or as your usual work day?”
I looked at his shiny, black eyes peeking out at me through his apricot colored fur, a bit overgrown, about as adorably shaggy as he could look. He sat down on my stomach.
“Ah, you’re getting heavy! Are you gaining weight?”
“You’ve not taken me on my daily walks as you used to.”
I turned my eyes to the window. The street light had just been turned off. The sky was burning with intense mixed shades of red and orange accentuated by the patches of clouds. When I was a child, my sister and I would lie down in the wheat grass fields and watch for shapes floating against the sky. The first to spot one called out excitedly and pointed it out very quickly. We’d easily spend the morning watching clouds drifting above. It’s been years since I took the time to observe the elusive shapes in the gallery of the invisible artist. I remember we had to look real hard at first. We had to make a real effort before we spotted the first cloud creation.
“Life is like the sky, Shepo.”
“Yes, I’m listening.”
“It’s constantly moving, ever changing. While seemingly predictable, it brings unexpected pleasures, uninvited challenges, moments of utmost delight, and heart wrenching agony. Some people don’t stop their stride to look up; they don’t think that looking up matters and get satisfaction in deriding those who do think it worthwhile to look up. I want to be one who slows down enough to look up.”
I picked up all six pounds of him and hugged him, burying my nose in his curly fur.
“How about after breakfast we drive to the beach?”
“I can bark at grey pelicans. I can bite at the foamy waves. We can run on the shore, sea breeze blowing in our faces. I can chase after those obnoxious laughing gulls.”
“While I chase after you? Yeah, something like that.”
“Sounds like the perfect plan for a perfect day.”

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RE: Talking Pet - 8/17

Postby Cana » Tue Aug 17, 2010 5:06 pm

I slammed my hand onto the snooze button and rolled onto my side. I had the early shift at the diner today, and I was definitely not looking forward to it. There's something about waking up at the crack of dawn to make waffles and eggs that makes me even more allergic to work than usual.
"Meow."
"Coco, I'll feed you later," I grumbled, rolling face first into the pillow.
I felt her paw bat at my hair, and I pushed her away. I had found Coco on my doorstep a few months ago, a curled up ball of shivering, mewing, fluff. She had just barely gotten off being bottle fed, and she was still very clingy to me.
"Coco, honey," I moaned, reaching to pet her little head, "Mommy needs a few more minutes of sleep."
Suddenly, I heard, "If I give you more minutes of sleep, you'll sleep forever. Now if you don't mind, GET UP!"
I snapped my head upward and spun around. "WHO'S THERE?!"
"Finally," a voice that sounded a lot like a British child said, "Out you get, mother. You're not going to work today. The witch hunters are almost here."
I forced my eyes to focus on Coco's blurry shape. "Coco?" I asked, wiping a trail of drool from the side of my mouth.
"I said, up!" Coco nudged her little nose into my face, "I've packed all your things. You are to run, find the coven, and hide with them until my sisters and I dispatch the witch hunters."
"You want me to he haw what now?!" I cried, jumping out of bed. I scrambled away from the talking kitten. That was when the banging started on the downstairs door.
"Oh bother," Coco ran to my bedroom door. She threw her body against it, slamming it shut. Her thin tail twisted the lock closed. My little black kitten stared at me, her mouth never moving, and snapped, "Too late, love. Quick, grab the briefcase and jump out of the window."
"Wait, tell me what's going on!" I demanded, running in my pajamas to the briefcase before Coco could scratch me, "Why... YOU'RE TALKING!"
"Frankly, you're the only human that understands me," Coco said as if it were common knowledge, "I'm your familiar, love. All witches have one whether they know it or not. And in a nutshell, word got out on the street that you awakened, and those men breaking down your door are here to burn you at the stake."
"Awakened? Witch? Burn?" I repeated. I grabbed my suitcase and bee-lined for the window. My kitten was talking. TALKING. Something in my brain, which was still in desperate need of a first cup of coffee, figured that I might want to listen to the talking cat. "Coco, I have to go to work!" I tried to say.
"There were always bigger things meant for you than cooking other people's food," Coco said. She jumped onto the window sill and nudged it open. My apartment was on the fifth floor of the complex, and the exit ladder was connected to the living room patio. Leaving from my bedroom would basically entail dropping to my death.
I heard my front door, or the shards of it, slam into my apartment, shattered by a gunshot. My heart pounded in my ears almost as loudly as the footsteps and voices of angry men right outside of my door.
"Come out witch! You have no where to hide!"
"I'm not a witch!" I yelled, climbing out of the window and scaling the side of the building, my white knuckles clinging to the jutting bricks on the wall behind me. The sun was dusty gray and an unnatrually strong wind threw my uncombed hair around my head. "Oh god, oh god, oh god," I gasped, the wind now blowing so hard it felt like my hold on the wall was slipping. The ladder was closer now, if I could inch my way...
"No time!" Coco snapped, "Jump!"
"ARE YOU CRAZY?!" I screeched over the wind, "I'll die!"
"You'll die up here sooner! Watch," Coco rolled her little shoulders and crouched on her hindquarters. Then, she launched herself from the building.
"Coco!" I screamed.
"Over here!" I heard a man inside yell.
"The wind is here to carry you down, love!" Coco called. To my amazement, she was safely on the ground, looking at me with her wide, green eyes. "Jump!"
The clamor inside my apartment made my skin jump, and I weighed my options. Certain death at the hands of supposed witch hunters, or a jump to certain doom.
I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and launched myself from the building. The wind whipped around me, making my skin numb. I waited for the pain of the concrete on my chest, waited for the sound of each of my bones cracking, waited for Coco's tail to brush against my leg.
My eyes snapped open. Coco congratulated me on surviving, and then ran into the dawn. "Come!" she called, "After we find the coven, we'll get you trained. Then you can begin some REAL work."
Above me, the men bellowed with rage. I turned to face them one last time at a height that should have killed me. I shook my head, forced myself to believe that this whole exchange was real, and followed Coco away from my old life with nothing more than a briefcase.
She could have at least packed two for me.

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Re: Talking Pet - 8/17

Postby Cana » Tue Aug 17, 2010 5:07 pm

Does anyone ever read anyone else's posts in this area of the forum? I love reading what everyone else wrote.

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RE: Talking Pet - 8/17

Postby Hcharles » Wed Aug 18, 2010 12:26 am

I was lying back on a towel on the sand. Waves were crashing, people were laughing, the sun was so warm on my body…then this incredibly hot guy with dark hair was standing over me. “Jeanne, come with me,” he said in a sultry voice…
BRRRRRRRIIIIIINGGGGG!!!!!!
I grabbed my alarm clock and threw it at the wall with a few phrases I would have been ashamed to say in front of my mother.
“Good, you’re up.” I jumped again. “What the –“ My roommate’s pit bull, Reno, was sitting on my work uniform which was lying on the floor. Ok, now I was hearing voices. Yay. But I didn’t like the way the dog was staring at me.
“Get off my clothes, beast,” I said. “You’re getting fuzz all over them.”
“It doesn’t matter, Jeanne,” said Reno.
“ARE YOU TALKING????” I screamed.
Reno sighed. “Um, yeah. And forget about going to work today. I have a very important job for you.”
“You – you – WHAT?”
“Get out of bed, and follow me,” he said, turning and leaving my room.
I followed him. What else was I supposed to do?
Reno was waiting for me in the kitchen. “All righty then, let’s go. I have a few people I want you to meet.”
“I’m wearing freakin’ pajamas, Reno! I haven’t taken a shower! And y-y-y-you’re talking! This is so not happening!” I was practically frantic.
“Jeanne,” said Reno warningly. The doorbell interrupted him. “Go answer the door.”
Three enormous Great Danes nearly knocked me flat coming in the door. They looked like ordinary dogs, except for the official looking badges they were wearing on their collars. “Hello, gentlemen, this is Jeanne,” said Reno.
“Did you frisk her for weapons?” said the biggest one.
“Yes, sir, while she was sleeping, sir,” said Reno. “She’s clean.”
The big dog turned his attention to me. “Sit, human.” I sat nervously on the couch. “We just have a few questions to ask you. My name is Buster. Do you have any questions before we begin?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, I have a few questions. Like why are you talking? Will somebody please wake me up? And what are you doing in my apartment anyway?”
Buster sighed. “Sorry, confidential. Let’s begin. I need you to tell me everything you know about Area 51.”
“Area 51? Like, Roswell? THAT Area 51?”
“Yes, THAT Area 51,” said Buster in a mocking voice. “I wasn’t aware there was another.”
“Are you kidding? People think the government is hiding information about aliens that landed there in the 50s, and I think it’s a load of crap! What on earth do you think I know about it?”
“Human, I’m warning you, we aren’t going to give up til you tell us what we want to know,” said Buster. “We happen to know that your grandmother was on the mothership-“
“WHAT?”
“-so don’t try to hide anything from us. We really don’t want to hurt you.”
“My grandmother WHAT?”
“She’s not going to stop screaming, sir,” said Reno. “She’s like this all the time.”
“WHAT?”
“I see,” said Buster. “Miss, I’m really sorry but we are going to have to detain you for further questioning.”
Reno popped a syringe out from between his teeth while Buster lunged forward and latched onto my arm. “This may hurt just a little,” said Reno in a muffled voice.
The needle stung my arm and in a matter of seconds, the room swirled and went black.

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Re: Talking Pet - 8/17

Postby Atlanticgrl » Wed Aug 18, 2010 5:18 am

Kitty-Cat Say What?

Still not quite awake, eyes not open; my brain wondered why it was so bright on the other side of my eye-lids. "hmmmppphh". A little stretch...two blinks...I sat up like someone punted my head from behind, "Oh crap! What time is it?!"

"Time for you to relax....and waaaay passed time for you to be at work."

"What the hell?" I eked out as my eyes darted around the room like a crazy person looking for voices.

A mischievous, high pitched giggle answered my frantic eyes. Then, with a sarcastic slice to the last word I heard, "hellooooo, momma".

I turned my head so fast I nearly snapped my own neck. The voice came from the window. I launched out of bed to the window at my right, nearly knocking over my cat, Elsa, perched on the sill. I looked out the screen.
"Hey grace, watch it, would ya?"

My heart hit the screen as I threw myself away from the window. It was far too early for this kind of movement, but my adrenaline was at warp speed.

I looked at Elsa, I swear she was grinning at me. All I could do was stare in her direction. Then as I watched the grey fur-covered mouth move I heard from it, a husky voice reminiscent of Brenda Vaccaro, "Yes mother, your sweet, little 'Elsa-Bird' can talk. Surpriiiise. Oh and I turned off your alarm, too.”

I blinked...barely feeling pain from the carpet burn on my jaw when it hit.

"Oh come on now, don't be so...catatonic. It makes you looks stupid." Elsa cocked her head and let out another little giggle that was at odds with the gravely voice. "We've got a lot to do today. You know you're not going to work, right?”

I blinked, again. Twice.

“I'm sorry if this is a bad day for this, but I couldn't take it anymore. What with the damn Chihuahua and then that 'developmentally sloooow' kitten you brought home 6 months ago. Some things have to change around here. I've tried to coach you, tried to teach you, but you're almost as slow as that kitten. So, I figured, time for the big guns. Time to talk.”
My butt hit the white linen sheets with a ‘thumph’.

“Oh, but make no mistake, you try to parade me around on Leno or Oprah and I'll clam up quieter than that Blue Jay I took down last week."
Something like a ‘hhhnnnuuh’ seeped from my throat.

Oh, you're wondering how I Killed a Blue Jay outside when I'm an indoor kitty." She shook her head and narrowed her saucer green eyes at my apparent ignorance. "Do you really think I sit around here with Yippy and Skippy all day? Oh, those are my nicknames for Pete and Gus-The-Slow-One. I couldn't possibly tolerate their company all day. The Chi sleeps all day, big fun. And Gus, well, 'stupid' is only fun for so long. So, I let myself out, come back in before you get home."
I swallowed. My throat was dry.

"Ok, say something. Seriously, say something. I'm worried. Who will feed me if you go all Frances Farmer on me?"

"How the hell do you know about Frances Farmer?” I breathed.

"Schwooo, got you talking. Good."
“You can…talk.”
“Yeah, we’ve established that already. Like I said we have a lot to cover, a lot we need to change around here. And I can’t wait another day. Would you like to make yourself a cup of coffee first or should I just dive right in?”

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Re: Talking Pet - 8/17

Postby Leond » Wed Aug 18, 2010 5:18 am

I woke from a night of troubled dreams to find that, in my bed, I had turned into someone who was late for work. Luckily, since I had stayed up most of last night, I had prepared for this by sleeping in my suit. That meant that all I had to do was get into the car, rush to the office, and be hungry and miserable until lunch. More or less the usual.
What was not usual was that my cat was sitting on my briefcase. Annoyed, I started to push it off when it turned up to me and spoke.
"You won't be going to work today," it said, very clearly and very definitively.
"I'm sorry?" There were many more logical reactions to the fact that my pet had just talked to me, but at that time of the morning, annoyance seemed reasonable enough. It was just my luck that the paranormal should occur while I was trying not to get fired.
"I said you won't be going to work today."
"What makes you think that?" Again, if my actions seem unusual given the circumstances, recall that the circumstances were unusual and I was tired.
"Because there is no work today," it said, and at this moment it's eyes flared red. "Today is when we take control."

Not sure if there was a point in putting in something that small and stupid, but whatever. I felt like it.

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RE: Talking Pet - 8/17

Postby Woodsong » Wed Aug 18, 2010 7:01 am

It was Saturday morning and I had a hangover. I was supposed to be in the office for a meeting with a client at 1030. When I rolled over to get out of bed I saw my dog Jack sitting on my briefcase looking at me. His ears were perked up.
"Good morning Jack, that's a good dog, what are you doing here?"
Jack cocked his head and stared at me. I could hear his tail thumping on my briefcase.
"Do you need to go out?" I said. Normally I don't let Jack into the bedroom, I close the door before I go to sleep. But last night I must have forgotten. And how did my briefcase get on the floor?
I checked the clock, and it was only 9:15. I still had plenty of time to get dressed and make it to the office on time. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, reached over and patted Jack on top of his head. Then I headed to the bathroom.
As I stood there relieving myself, I heard a man's voice speaking behind me.
"I can't let you go out today Joe." The voice said. The voice was clear as a bell. It startled me so much I peed on the floor as I spun around. No one in the bedroom and my clock radio was off, so was the TV.
"Was that you Jack?" I said. Dogs can't talk, so I must be hearing things. Jack just continued to sit there staring at me. Maybe my hangover was worse than I thought.

I finished with my bodily functions and then started to shave. While I was shaving I heard the voice again.
"Really, it would be best if you stayed home today."
That was enough. There was no one in the bedroom except for Jack. The TV, cable box and stereo were all off. I checked the living room and kitchen and found no one. I was alone.
I tried to remember the previous night but everything was foggy. I guess I had one too many Jaeger bombs and now I was paying for it. I must be losing my mind. When I returned to the bedroom Jack was still sitting on my briefcase staring at me with that curious stare.
"Jack, I must be losing my mind. Are you talking to me or is there something else going on." I said. I remember an old episode of the Andy Griffith show where Opie used a walkie-talkie and a dog's collar to make Goober think the dog was talking. It would be just like some of my friends to play the same trick on me. I examined Jack's collar but there was nothing special about it. No receiver or transmitter.
"Well Jack, either you're talking to me, I'm hallucinating or I'm hearing the voice of God." I said. "Either way I'm not one to tempt fate. I'll call the office and have them reschedule my appointment. That's a good dog Jack."
I finished shaving and the got into the shower. Slowly, little by little the pounding in my head eased and I could think straight. I knew that I had to be hallucinating. I must have been hearing things. Dogs can't talk and as far as I knew God never talked to me. I never actually saw Jack's lips move.
I decided not to call and rearrange my appointment but to go-ahead to the office anyway. When I got out of the shower Jack was not in the bedroom.
I got dressed, picked up my briefcase and headed toward the front door. Sitting in front of the door blocking my way was Jack. He still had that same grin on his face.
"Where are you going?" Jack said. "I still don't think it's a good idea if you go to work today."
I just stood there staring at Jack. His lips had moved just like those in a cartoon.
"Okay. If I can't go to work where should I go?"
"How about the dog park? If you're lucky I'll let you throw the frisbee for me."

Jack and I spent the morning at the dog park. Later there was a news report about an accident at an intersection I would have driven through on my way to work.
After that day Jack never spoke to me again.

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Re: Talking Pet - 8/17

Postby zket02 » Thu Aug 19, 2010 3:17 am

A twitchy little cat nose slowly approaches the man’s hand hanging over the edge of the bed. He sniffs and extends a little pink tongue and lightly licks the back of the man’s hand. No response. The cat lets out a little sniffled snort. He licks the same spot again harder. The man barely opened his left eye looking at the dark shape of a kitten-sized cat. The cat lets out a little quivery meow. “Hi, Scout. Is it time to get up already?” the man mumbled.  

“Quiet,” the cat said in a hissed whisper. “Get down here, now!”

The man stiffens and quickly looks around the room looking left and right without moving his body. 05:23:27 shines from his bedside clock; a dull light outlines the shaded window; all is still and deathly quiet. He slid very slowly off the bed onto the floor next to the cat sitting in his open briefcase, landing on top of his clothes and shoes he discarded two hours earlier.

“Vincent, get dressed. Stay down,” Scout growled in a low rumble, his nose touching the man’s nose as he crept out of the briefcase.  

Without hesitation, staying flat on his stomach, Vincent scooped his clothes and shoes from around him to his chest with his left arm, and quickly put his right hand into the briefcase shoving the disks about, grabbing a black metal wafer in his fist.

“Looks like you are not going to work today. In fact, you are about to get FIRED!" spittle splattered on Vincent's face. Taking a few quick breaths to calm himself, Scout said, "We have to move fast,” as he glanced over the bed at the window.

 Flipping over onto his back, Vincent jerked on his pants and his sweater over his pajamas, slipped on his shoes, and stuffed the socks, and wafer into his pants pocket, then laid his jacket across his chest. The cat crawled under the lapel and wriggled into an inside pocket. The room slowly got darker as a shadow crept over the window shade.

His voice muffled within the pocket, Scout hissed, “Let’s get out of here.”

Turning over and clutching the jacket in his right hand, Vincent pulled himself across the bedroom floor and just as he cleared the door jam, he stood up and ran for the front door. The bedroom, hallway, and kitchen behind him collapsed in brilliant flash and deafening boom. The concussion blasted Vincent over the dining room table and he crashed against the front door losing his hold on the jacket. The jacket hit the wall with a dull thump and fell to the floor in a jumble of debris. Shoving the debris off himself, the door, and wall, Vincent grabbed the jacket and quickly wrapped it around the limp cat body inside, tucked it under his left arm like a football, groped for the door handle and ripped the door open. As he stumbled down the hallway, ricocheting off the walls trying to get his footing, and just as he cleared the corner, another explosion tears the apartment apart rocketing shredded wall matting, lamps, and the couch out the door against the opposite apartment wall. Debris swirled within the reinforced module walls like a blinding roaring tornado.

Running towards the wall at the end of the hallway, Vincent pulled a remote from his pants pocket aiming it at a flashing panel on the right. The door soundlessly slid into the wall exposing a blue hazy shield across the opening. His car unhooks from its parking slot on the side of the building, and moves in front of the opening. Glancing over his shoulder, Vincent frantically punches the buttons on the panel. As the car docks against the wall, the force field phased out.

 

Jumping into the car, he dropped the jacket onto the seat, puts his left palm onto the panel in front of him, and screams, “EMERGENCY UP - MAXIMUM VELOCITY - ENGAGE.” Instantly the car’s harness latched across Vincent’s chest, the seat reclined, and the roof closed. The car rocketed skyward as the entire floor of the building exploded.

 


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