In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “A Dog Named Bob.”
“Oh Geez!”, Bob groaned, as he lifted himself off the porch deck. He stood and thought about his status of being bi-pedal. What and how did it improve his abilities to be in the cosmic concert. He growled at the Facwahs, a dingy cat sitting near the open screen door with his mouth open, he was in awe of Bob. The screen door swayed a bit in the curling wind blowing in from the eastern horizon of morning rise. It clanked after each gust, clang, clink, and then a final clank as it clicked closed.After the midnight thunder storm. Bob remembered nothing. His nakedness was a concern because of his neighbor across the fenced in pasture was working on his tractor. His name was Bob too, and he had found Bob laying in the ditch one day after a pop up storm had blew through the Cape Fear valley and created a mess of anything that was not tied down, even blew a few wooden fences and pine trees down. This morning the mailbox was down in the ditch, puddles of water were everywhere. Bob knelt down to hide from the neighbor working and went to all fours as he opened the door to the kitchen. The dingy cat followed him into the kitchen.
“What the hell, Bob, said the cat, you know what gram said,be careful because when you get frightened you go bluejay and rip off all of your clothing,However, she didn’t say anything about turning into a dog. Fack, you turned into a damn dog and you know how I feel about those nasty critters, licking off plates, crapping in the yard, and chasing me about, you never think about me, good thing you didn’t run off for good tho, because gram said that’s what happens to folks when they get scared! You better put some syrup on those flapjacks or you might turn into another kind of nasty old creature. One never knows with you, Bob!” I sat down to the kitchen table and ate quietly while the cat continued to rant about how selfish I was and a fraidy dog too, that had never happened before, a dog, I had been frightened by the storm and ripped my clothes off and turned into a dog, running off into the woods, I was pretty lucky to have found my way back to the house. My gram told me the story about going bluejay by being scared or troubled and some people run into the woods and never find their way back home. I was still naked and felt the urge to document another time of going bluejay.
Entry#7734, went bluejay last night around midnight, don’t remember how I got back home but the cat is talking too…scribble, scribble, dang pen. Ran out of ink.