Micro-Fiction Roundup XXVI: Walking The Dog

June 16, 2010 in Micro-Fiction Roundup

In last week’s Micro-Fiction Roundup, our host, Chillbear Latrigue, informed us of the culture significance of the number 25 and the milestone that was the 25th entry in this, the Micro-Fiction Roundup series.  For me, however, 26 carries a deeper significance.  I’m 26 years old.  I was born on the 26th of December.  2 + 6 = 8, which, when you turn the number on it’s side, becomes the symbol for infinity, and that, although pretty damn nerdy, is pretty damn cool.   And not to get all numerological and conspiracy theorist on ya (anyone else see the sneak preview of Rubicon last Sunday?), but when you subtract 16, another significant number, from 26, you get the amount of entries in last week’s roundup.  Here’s the recap:

  • IrishBreakfast — “It’ll Be Fine”
  • Marshmueller — “Cuckoo For Cocoa Puffs”
  • Swifter — “The Aftermath”
  • Shelwood — An untitled piece involving pills and voices going away and other sweet, candy coatings.
  • Chillbear Latrigue — “Suburban Paranoia”
  • MilitantRubberDucky — “Tinfoil Hat”
  • Geodejane — “Exclamation Point Crazy!”
  • Geodejane — “Cobwebs”
  • Shelwood — An untitled piece involving psychosis and paranoia and suicidal yet smug voices in the head.
  • LilQuacker — An untitled piece I think could be called ‘Salad Bar S&M’

So that thing I said about the number 16 being significant or whatever?  I have no idea what I’m talking about.  Who does know what they’re talking about is Militant Rubber Ducky, last week’s winner and therefore decider of this last contest.  Here’s the breakdown:

“After much deliberation, I have chosen Shelwood‘s second piece (the one she edited). Am I allowed to do that, pick one that was edited after submission to make the word count? I hope so, because it just happened. I love that it shows that not every thought you have is your own, and to be careful which one you listen to. I was very pleased with all the submissions; they made it damned hard to decide! Second place goes to Marshmueller for depicting that roller coaster of crazy we all go on. Third goes to Swifter; mixing righteous renegade justice and crazy know-it-all bums residentially challenged people made for a great read. So there you have it; I’m going back to bed.”

Congratulations, Shelwood!  The winning submission was 91 words long, and not to get all numerological and conspiracy theorist on you again, but 9 – 1 = 8, and the number 8, which I pointed out previously, when turned on it’s side becomes the symbol for infinity.  Significance!  Here’s the winning entry:

They are hypercritical, like my thoughts are a blog and they are the commenters. Every little thing I do, I do wrong in their eyes. Eat too much, sleep too much, don’t keep my apartment tidy enough, don’t dress right. When I take a shower, they scream. They make the dogs in the neighborhood insult me too. Luckily, I am a very defiant person. When it crossed my mind that I could just kill myself to make it stop, they all said, “Fantastic.” So I knew that was a bad idea.

Shelwood’s winning entry is rife with all the elements of crazy.  Were schizophrenia a product which one desired, then this entry could easily be a commercial for that product, with twice the caffeine and now in diet.  The entry has everything you’d want in a schizophrenia commercial: blogging; shower-screams; suicidal smugness; defiance; and dog-walking.  It is this last item of commercialism that inspires our new theme – It Happened While Walking The Dog: Conversations and/or Events overheard or witnessed or engaged in by you while either walking your dog or someone else involved in the story was walking theirs and yet the dog being walked doesn’t necessarily have to be real because maybe it’s a metaphor for something else in your story. Don’t let the long theme fool you, it’s really quite simple.  Your entry can essentially be anything you’d like, so long as a dog or dog like characteristic is mentioned, or maybe you could write a story you think is really great but doesn’t necessarily have anything dog related, and then just title the piece “Doberman,” or “The Great Dane.”  You see where I’m going with this.  Observe!:

The Rules:

  • Your entry must be 101 words or less; if you choose to title your piece, the title will not count against your 101; there is no limit on the amount of entries you can submit.
  • The deadline will be Sunday night at midnight. This will give the judge 48 hours to submit his or her selection to me by Tuesday night at midnight.
  • If I don’t receive the judge’s selection by one of the established methods (e-mail, Wordsmoker messaging or Facebook private messaging) I will be forced to make the selection so as not to delay the next week’s competition.
  • The winner of Micro-Fiction Roundup automatically assumes the responsibility of judging the next week’s competition. Obviously that person can still submit writing, but can’t pick himself or herself as the winner. Otherwise we could end up with some sort of ridiculous perpetual judge situation.
  • In the interest of keeping tradition, I will try to select themes based upon the previous week’s submissions when possible.

Shelwood, you’re the decider for this 26th contest.  Chillbear Latrigue will again be your host next week, so make sure to get your decision to him by whatever means necessary, although I hear he prefers to get them in a locked attaché case that you drop off at a predetermined and inconspicuous location.  Or facebook.  That works too.

Yes, Micro-Fictioners, get those creative leashes and collars out and take your short fiction for a walk around the Wordsmoker block!  And don’t hate me for the terrible puns.

  • http://wordsmoker.com/help/members-3/blix/ Blix

    Congratulations Shelwood.

    SamuraiP: I love the video. It’s pretty much the way I wake up.

  • http://wordsmoker.com/help/members-3/tipsy-hausfrau/ tipsy hausfrau

    Friday. That meant the Dobermans in 7C. Collecting his rambunctious morning charges, he strode down 71st street.

    Sela expected so much of him. The disappointment in her voice made her sound just like his mother. He cringed visibly. ‘You were so bright; such an overachiever. Why don’t you try harder?’. They had all expected so much.

    The Dobermans wound themselves around a lightpost, but instead of untangling the leash, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, yellowed, laminated newspaper clipping, the one his mother had made to commemorate the occasion.

    ‘Local Boy Becomes National Yo-Yo Champion’, the headline read.

  • http://wordsmoker.com/help/members-3/marshmueller/ marshmueller

    Congrats, Shelwood!

  • http://wordsmoker.com/help/members-3/swifter/ Swifter

    The Park

    It was springtime and I was in Paris for a week, caring for a friend’s dog. Twice a day I would take Zeus, a young Brittany, for a walk on the streets of Neuilly. I spoke not a word of French, but let Zeus do all the talking. One day, in Bois-de-Boulogne Park, Zeus was retrieving balls shot from a launcher. Two beautiful women asked a question, but I could not understand them.

    “English,” I asked?

    They wanted to know where I had gotten the launcher.

    “America” I replied.

    “But of course! America!” They laughed and went on their way.

  • http://wordsmoker.com/help/members-3/skahammer/ skahammer

    MERCY

    Disarmed and shackled, we marched. Through lands beyond imagining.

    The city seemed nearly Olympian. Giant edifices hewn of stone. Ominously, a skull-chocked necropolis.

    The chamber held ornamented nobles, crowding us. Much oratory, untranslated. The Emperor sneered in purple and gold. And elevated beside him, a tame wolf: “Canis.”

    The Emperor descended among us. He met each gaze and passed, but his grim familiar remained at my feet. Ultimately, only I was spared.

    After six years of slavery the gods favored me, and I slew the Emperor. Donning the purple, I was presented with Canis’ leash. No king ever knew greater loyalty.

  • http://wordsmoker.com/help/members-3/skahammer/ skahammer

    THE BITCH

    Lesbian is clearly the way to be, in this town. The gay girls are cool and confident, and guys respect them. Plus, women are just plain beautiful — soft, yielding, giving. I need that.

    But sometimes boys appear. Thinking I’m gay, they strive to be gentle. But their lust, their need to take, still pulses through them. I need that too.

    So I’m thankful for my Lab, Susie. She confirms my status with the lesbians. And when I get called “bitch” (frequently), I consider how Susie approaches life: Playfully, joyously, head up. Without her, I suppose I’d just be another confused bisexual.

  • http://wordsmoker.com/help/members-3/marshmueller/ marshmueller

    Walking Marley

    I was walking Marley in the neighborhood when I heard him.
    “Hey, boy,” he said.
    I peered beyond the chain-link fence.
    Bald. Overweight. Sitting atop a riding lawnmower in a sweat-stained tank top.
    “Hey, BOY!” he shouted.
    “What?!” said a timid voice from beyond the pile of broken lawnmowers.
    “What’re you doin’?” sneered Fat Man.
    “Nothin.’”
    “Well, if you’re not doin’ nothin,’ git over here.”
    The boy shuffled toward him.
    “Git up here.”
    The boy climbed onto the mower, and they started mowing the gravel-ridden grass.
    Marley and I continued on, mostly to avoid an untimely death by flying gravel bits.

  • http://wordsmoker.com/help/members-3/marshmueller/ marshmueller

    Walking Ziggy

    I was walking Ziggy in the neighborhood when he stopped and began his guttural growl.
    “Come on, Zig,” I said, tugging on the leash.
    Ziggy resisted, and then began barking.
    “Ziggy, quiet!” I said. This normally quiets him, but he was relentless. I looked around for another dog, but saw nothing.
    He continued with his Chewbacca/pigeon growl, and I wondered if a squirrel was nearby, taunting him.
    Then, out of the bushes, I saw it.
    It was Uno, our neighbor’s one-eyed cat who likes to shit in our yard and garden.
    “Good dog, Ziggy,” I said, letting the leash go.

  • http://www.myspace.com/kortholm tomshotgun

    It was all over the news, a finback whale lay stranded helpless in the fjord.

    Fist time since 1923.

    Futile attempts by bevildered local wildlife authorities, to save the poor creature, made it swim into even more shallow water, and now it was stuck. For good. Untill death. In the news, they said to respect the whale, and let it die in peace.

    So, 10.000+ people hiked all 3 miles out, to watch it die. Me too.

    Poor whale, should have been a dog, and put out of its misery.

    Instead it became a macabre celeberty.

  • http://wordsmoker.com/help/members-3/swifter/ Swifter

    Walking the Dog

    Dear Penthouse,

    This sort of thing has never happened to me before, but one day while out “walking the dog” around the neighborhood, I heard faint moans coming from a van parked near the corner of the street. Now, I’m not really the nosy type but the van was parked in front of a local beauty parlor and you could hear two people really going at it. I nonchalantly edged closer to try to get a look inside the bay windows and spotted a shapely leg peeking just outside the curtains. Naturally, I was curious and wondered just what was going…

  • http://wordsmoker.com/help/members-3/militantrubberducky/ MilitantRubberDucky

    Dog Park

    Nine o’clock, as usual. He watched her take the leash off the small chocolate Lab, who ran around the empty park like a rabid Comanche. Squirrely as she was, the dog was all belly rubs and kisses; he’d made sure to befriend her. Her owner, oblivious, began her morning jog around the track. He thanked how naive people could be; they thought that if they didn’t walk through a bad neighborhood alone after dark, evil couldn’t get them, when the truth of the matter is, evil hunts where they least expect it: elementary schools, Pilates class, church – the dog park.

  • http://wordsmoker.com/help/members-3/chillbearlatrigue/ Chillbear Latrigue

    My Side: The Peanut Butter Dog Incident

    “You all know the story about the woman who covers her pubic region with peanut butter because she wants the dog to pleasure her. Only when she walks naked into the next room, her blissfully ignorant husband has staged a surprise party with all of her neighbors. You probably thought, “That poor woman. How mortifying.” Well, have you ever thought about the dog being forced into humiliating cross-species sex acts; trapped in locked rooms away from hors d’oeuvres and guests at every party? Did you ever think, “Maybe he isn’t even all that crazy about peanut butter?” Well, I’m not.”

  • http://wordsmoker.com/help/members-3/katekate/ katekate is squared

    Can’t You Do That With a Yo-Yo?

    People with dogs don’t need an excuse for a late-night stroll; “The little guy’s gotta go, and who am I to say no?” At least that’s what Sam imagined he’d say to someone he encountered on a late-night walk, if he had a dog. But he was allergic to dogs, and anyway, he could barely manage to feed himself, so he’d surely kill anything he was responsible for. Maybe he could start carrying a leash around so people would think he was looking for a lost dog, and not that he was just a weirdo who took walks late at night.

  • http://wordsmoker.com/help/members-3/militantrubberducky/ MilitantRubberDucky

    Obedience

    He’d bought her from the guy who sold him all his pets. As usual, she was beautiful: cream colored with hazel eyes, lithe with a strong back and long, lean legs. He’d paid an exorbitant amount of money, almost two grand, but she was worth it; already she came when called, and it had only taken three days of pulling and resisting and choking for her to succumb to the collar. He resisted the urge to beat her into submission – clients didn’t pay for bruises.

  • http://wordsmoker.com/help/members-3/voxpopuli/ VoxPopuli

    The Truth About Cats and Dogs

    Mr. Pickles had no sympathy for Barkington. A stupid mutt he was, always smelling people’s feet and begging for those awful, dry biscuits. Why, he barely even chewed them before swallowing them. Stupid dog. It was no surprise when he got hit by the Mr. Softee truck. Dogs can’t even eat ice cream! Cats know better. Well, there was no use telling that mutt anything. At least Mr. Pickles inherited the bigger pet bed. May you bark at the big doorbell in the sky, the calico thought as he drifted to sleep.

  • http://wordsmoker.com lilquacker

    I’d bark, she’d bark back. I’d bark, she’d bark. It went on for months this way. She was only across the street but it felt like we were worlds apart. Something had to give, I wanted to sniff her. I wanted to share my bowl with her. She made me want to be a better dog. I did all I could to express my love for her, you only pulled me away. So if you’re not going to acknowledge our desire for each other then please don’t spank me when I dry hump your mother-in-law. It’s not my first choice.

  • http://wordsmoker.com/help/members-3/notwavingbutdrowning/ notwavingbutdrowning

    Housebreaking

    It is right now what I can call a world, lacking anyplace else. It is even less of a world for the dog: a one bedroom apartment lacking a yard. Neither of us have quite managed to get properly broken in. I cannot blame her for her lapses if I too have not yet mastered the life this world requires. Together we belong to it in our displacement. I say we belong to it but we don’t. We only inhabit this place. The only belonging here is the belonging of two misplaced creatures being together not belonging except to each other.

  • http://wordsmoker.com/help/members-3/notwavingbutdrowning/ notwavingbutdrowning

    Becoming Creatures

    That simple word. A basic noun. Dog. My friend’s toddler repeats it over and over: “Doggy! Doggy! Doggy!” The doggy goes “woof woof.” Now we are all excited anew about the doggy. About the idea of doggy. Watch how a word becomes an object – a moving thing, a living creature. This is indeed the magic of the world. The doggy wags her tail and scampers over to be petted. The child, still partly feral, in her excitement she forgets to be gentle and before we can stop her she winds up her little arm and whacks the doggy hard on the back.

  • http://wordsmoker.com/help/members-3/notwavingbutdrowning/ notwavingbutdrowning

    Oh rats. Mine were submitted after midnight. I’m in the Pacific coast time zone for what it’s worth.

  • http://wordsmoker.com/help/members-3/chillbearlatrigue/ Chillbear Latrigue

    I think we can count them as it was before midnight on your time. For future reference, midnight EST is the deadline.

  • http://wordsmoker.com/help/members-3/notwavingbutdrowning/ notwavingbutdrowning

    It’s okay. There’s no need to break the rules on my account.