Dog Tornado

Are those pillows to your liking?

Since you’ve spread them everywhere?

Are you packing to go hiking?

You sure took time arranging, there

I do not get it, little dude

Why must you make a mess?

To be frank, it’s kinda rude

Why can’t you just lay down and rest?

All the blankets, all the throws

In the wash machine

It’s like you think nobody knows

That someone here must clean

Listen, bro, and yes I know

You like to fluff and puff

No more of this dog tornado

Because I’ve had enough

Dog Breath

What do you do when you’re faced with a curse?

A fate that is worse than your death?

A thing that can just be described as the worst

A thing that is Baxter’s dog breath?

I usually let him jump onto my lap

It’s not a big deal, normally

But when I wake up after taking a nap

He tends to come walk over me

He’ll stand on my chest and look into my eye

As if to say “time to get up”

And then he will yawn and make me want to die

As I gag and say “close your mouth, pup”

It’s really not funny, because when he yawns

It’s like he’s exhaling his guts

His breath smells like what he ate from dusk to dawn

And what’s more, he’ll stand on my nuts

So I must say, as I lie here today

Typing and scribbling words

Buy a dog bed, so when you hit the hay

You’ll wake up, and only hear birds

Sleepster

If you were to ask “What’s he good at now, Matt?”

I would tell you that there is one thing

If you were to ask “Does it make him look fat?”

I would say “Really? Just look at the thing.”

For of all of the things we can do in this world

He basically cares about one

Which is to lie down in a ball as he’s curled

While scoffing when I ask to run

He truly cares not, nothing matters to him

Except for a treat and a nap

If I ask if he’d like to go lift in the gym

He’d say “no, I’ll just sleep on your lap”

“I sleep over here, I sleep over there”

“Must I be forced to pick only one?

“I think that instead, since I’m a dog that is fair”

“I’ll sleep on them all, but you can go run”

Okay, Dog

Okay, dog, I love you bro

But there are some things you must know

So please don’t take this the wrong way

They’re just some things I have to say

Please stop yawning in my face

Your breath is worse than cans of mace

It’s so bad that I bet somehow

One day you’ll singe off my eyebrow

Also, stop walking at night

Across my laptop when I write

You broke the mouse pad already

And squished down half the number keys

Oh, and when I’m deep in sleep

Stop staring at me like a creep

It’s so weird when I wake to see

Your glare as you breathe heavily

And one more thing, last saved for best

Stop standing on my freaking chest

I get it, you want to wake me up

But don’t forget who’s boss here, pup

The Ward & the Bone: 13

“Bites of the Round Bowl!! Please, lend me your ears.”

Standing valiantly on the balcony of Cage Spamalot’s Keep, Grr Barker tells the entire Realm of the quest he will embark on, with no puns intended.

“Realm!” He shouts, “I shall commission my bravest, most chivalrous Bites to accompany me on this epic quest! We will weather the challenges that lie ahead. No obstacle shall stand in our way as we courageously mush our way to the artifact of old; the fabled Excalibone!!”

“HUZZAH!!!!” The Kingdom roars before him. “LONG LIVE GRR BARKER!!!”

“Calm yourselves, constituents,” Barker howls as he raises a paw. “Yes, this quest shall bring much glory to our Kingdom, but we mustn’t forget the severity of the threat which lies to the East! My advisors have informed me that there still remains a Phelyon, by the name of Corgin La Fey, who wishes to reclaim our freed lands!!”

“NAY!!!” The crowd shouts, fully in support of their leader. “You must vanquish her!!”

“Yes!” Barker asserts. “And vanquish we shall!! But first, I must unearth the fabled weapon of old!! For without Excalibone, I might as well be riding into a sea of Jellyfish!”

“But wait, my Liege!” A random peasant shouts from the crowd. “What do jellyfish have to do with this narrative? Alas, they don’t even remotely relate to the topic at hand!”

“Aye,” Grr Barker barks, “your words are true. Jellyfish are not, in fact, related to this quest at all. But alas! We shall recover Excalibone and send Corgin La Fey back into chasm from whence she came!!!!” He howls, awoo’ing at the rising Moon.

“AWOOO!!!!!!” The crowd repeats, even though many of them are not Kaynine. “Tomorrow,” Grr Barker shouts, “our quest shall begin!!”

The Ward & the Bone: 12

“Grr Barker, you’re up early.”

Trotting aimlessly through the hedge maze outside of Cage Spamalot, Master Squirrelin spots the new King on a morning stroll.

“Aye, Master. I found it difficult to slumber this morning. I am used to my princely duties, but now that I have inherited the Bone, I find that the responsibilities weight heavy on my conscience.”

“This is understandable, my Liege.” Squirrelin says as he pats Grr Barker on the back. “Your newfound tasks must cast an unimaginable burden.”

“They do, old friend. They do.” Barker sighs.

“My King, there is something I must share with you. I have spent much time digging through the archives. There is something I believe that must be addressed.”

Intrigued, the young King raises an eyebrow.

“Go on,” he barks.

“Barker, I have known you since you were just a pup. You know that I have always had your best interests at heart. May I speak freely?” Squirrelin asks.

“Of course,” Barker nods.

Stopping their pace, Squirrelin places a hand at the King’s chest. Looking up in surprise at the gesture, Barker turns to the mage to give him his full attention.

“There is much peril brewing in the East.” The old Squirrel says.

“Peril?” Barker asks, caught off guard dog.

“Yes, my liege. Peril. Much of it.”

Squinting his eyes and slowly casting his gaze toward the rolling hills to the East, Grr Barker suddenly wafts his hair back.

“These lands are as secure as ever!” He barks with confidence.

“My liege! You must listen.” Squirrelin pleads. “There is one who remains. One who was not felled during the War of the Realm. She is a Phelyon known as Corgin La Fey. She is mustering a massive army to reclaim what was once theirs!”

Recognizing the sincerity in Master Squirrelin’s plea, Grr Barker’s arrogant smirk fades into a look of concern.

“Are you certain of this, Master?” He asks.

“I am.”

“Hmm.” Barker hums, stroking his beard. “I shall consult my Bites about this. We must purge the Realm of any evil if it does, in fact, remain.”

“It remains, my liege. It assuredly remains. There is more…”

“Oh?” The King Barks.

“Yes.” Squirrelin asserts. “The prophecies have foretold there is but one way to defeat this scourge. You must recover Excalibone! The sword your father wielded during the War of the Realm. It is the only way that this Corgin will be defeated.”

“A quest, you say?” Barker barks.

“A quest!” Master Squirrelin repeats.

“Then it is so!” Barker shouts, head held high. “Myself and my Bites will take on this quest with honor and return balance to the Realm!”

“Excellent!” The magic-wielding rodent exclaims. “Excalibone!”

“It shall be mine!”

 

The Ward & the Bone: 11

“Barker? He is King now?”

Far to the East, Corgin Le Fey and her minions discuss the new events that have transpired throughout the Realm.

“Yes, madam,” a rat-servant screetches, “there has been much change occurring throughout the lands. Grr Barker has ascended to the Bone, and now rules with his Bites of the Round Bowl. Your carefully laid plans to put Toother to rest worked without err, and everything has gone according to your foretelling.”

“Excellent,” the Phelyon sorceress says. “Toother’s campaign almost destroyed my entire family tree. I will take pleasure in clawing the limbs and branches from his own.” She adds, combing her claw over a scroll detailing the Toother Mansbestfrienddragon’s lineage. “He should have known better. You NEVER abandon a Phelyon in a tree! They will always find a way to survive.”

“It is known, my Queen!” the rat-servant says, rolling up the Bestfrienddragon lineage scroll. “Forever Phelyons!”

“Forever Phelyons!” Corgin repeats, leaning out of the stone window so her voice can echo across the land.

“Rat-servant!” She shouts, retreating from the window. “Send a dispatch to Barko Polo. He shall send emissaries to assist me in my conquest!”

“Of course! Barko Polo is an excellent ally to call upon. You are wise to summon him.” The servant obediently replies.

“Yes.” Corgin purrs. “The Realm shall soon be mine. MINE!” She adds, pointing her Phelyon butt up to the ceiling, exposing her backside.

The Ward & the Bone: 10

“LONG LIVE THE KING!”

The Transition has come, and the night of festivities to celebrate Grr Barker’s ascension to the Bone is at hand.

“At last, he is King!”

Drunkenly swaying through a tavern full of the finest bitches, Grr Sleepsalot wafts his bowl of ale in the air.

“To Grr Barker!!” He shouts as the tavern follows suit, all throwing back a drink of Spamalot’s finest.

Watching the drunken Bites from afar, Squirrelin retreats to his study to record the events he is witnessing.

They are merry-making, and this is acceptable, I know. Yet I cannot purge myself of the fear. I know that Corgin La Fey stirs in the East, and she will pounce at the first opportunity. Its what the Phelyons do, for reasons unknown. They pounce.  

Lo, Grr Barker’s Transition will be a tale to be told for the ages, surely. But there must be a way to focus him on the threat that brews. If left alone, he will focus on nothing other than the games and the festivities. We cannot allow this to transpire. We must focus him on the grander picture. But how? How can we divert his focus on to that which will benefit the Realm? Surely there is a way. Treats. I believe that treats will refocus Grr Barker’s attention. That’s it. I shall consult the archives. The archives always sound like they contain information that the people should know, but don’t. There is simply something about that word, archives, that sounds…informative. Yes, I shall consult the archives.

As he consults the archives, Squirrelin begins his study into what must be done to combat the coming threat. Corgin La Fey is building her forces, and as the Realm is welcoming its new King, they are oblivious to what brews in the East. Let us hope that they will eventually see reason.

Reason. That is what we should see.

The Ward & the Bone: 9

The day after the sudden passing of Toother Mansbestfrienddragon, the Realm is on edge. The Realm was accustomed to Toother’s rule and guidance as King, but now they wait with gritted teeth in anticipation of what comes next. Who will inherit the Bone? Who will step up as the new leader of the Free Realm? Tradition points to Grr Barker, the sole blood heir. And yet the people are left questioning: is he ready? He’s been groomed his whole life to become King, but has such grooming been adequate? Its an excellent question, indeed, for if he hasn’t been groomed well, the people will recognize it instantly. A poor groom is the embarrassment of many Kaynines, as history has shown.

As he exits the Royal Groomer’s stall after receiving the customary cut for the Transition of the Bone ceremony, Grr Barker looks around to get his bearings.

“How do I look?” He asks his fellow Bites, who have accompanied him on his haircut quest.

“Dashing!” Grr Pantsalot pants, looking at the new King up and down. “This will bode well for the ceremony.”

“You look like a King,” Grr Goodgallihad barks, admiring Barker’s shimmering armor vest and perfectly trimmed fur.

“Wonderful!” Grr Barker exclaims. “I only hope the Court accepts the Transition. There are many nobles who wish their own kin would inherit the Bone. I must assert my claim with a show of strength!”

“Fret not, my Liege,” Grr Slobin says, having recently joined the inner circle from the Lady of the Shake’s troupe. “The Realm will respect your right to rule.”

“I pray you are right,” Barker says. “Anyway, let’s return to the Cage. I could use some rest before this evening’s festivities. I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”

“You will do splendidly,” Grr Sleepsalot assures him. “You’re a natural. Soon the entire Realm with be singing songs in your honor, KING,” he says, emphasizing the last word so it will sink in.

Grr Barker sighs and beckons the troupe forth.

“I suppose we shall see. Come on good boys, let’s get back before Squirrelin has a cow.”

The Bath of the Birds

I sit here in silence, observing the fray

They jump and they fly and they chirp and they play

No notion of others, surroundings are clear

They have no concern for the things that are near

A troupe, all together, just having some fun

Enjoying themselves now that rainfall has come

A friendship? A family? Their dynamic unknown

I’m certain of only one thing that they’ve shown

Simplicity flies in this unit of four

No worries, no stress, no rich and no poor

Their life is just that, a puddle to play

A place to post up and put worries away

And as I observe, these birds look around

They hop and they leap and leave marks on the ground

I can tell that they’re happy, such joy do they feel

As they chirp and they play, I can see it’s so real

They love one another, there’s no question of that

I can tell just by watching, it’s a sobering fact

I can’t help but wonder, as I see these birds play

Why humans can’t see things this simple today

This life wasn’t forged for such fury and fear

We were meant to be loved, all my friends, it’s so clear

Today, make a promise, I beg for your words

Reflect this world’s beauty, like this bath of the birds

The Ward & the Bone: 8

The morning after Grr Barker’s cryptic meeting with The Lady of the Shake, he rises early to greet the new sun. Trotting over to the stone window overlooking his Kingdom, he squints his eyes as the light meets his emerald, green eyes. His thoughts bark the question of whether he is worthy of such a quest, and he internally wonders if he is suited for the job. Before his mind has a chance to answer, he is interrupted by the gravest of news.

“Grr Barker!” A rat-servant hysterically shouts after climbing the many stairs to his Cage. “You must come! Your father has taken ill!”

“My…my father?” Grr Barker asks, immediately concerned.

“Yes! Please, follow!”

Scurrying off into the spiral staircase of the chamber tower, Grr Barker trails the rat-servant across the Castle Cage’s halls until they finally reach his father’s Kingly chambers.

“Father!” Barker howls as he sheds a tear from his glistening green eye, “please tell me you will persevere!”

Weakly lifting his head, Toother Mansbestfrienddragon takes his paw and wraps its around his son’s shaggy neck.

“My beloved Barker…cough cough…y…you must see that our Kingdom r…cough…remains. You must recover that which I have lost. My…my son…you must recover Excalibone!” The King manages to say, before his spirit sadly fades beyond the Veil.

“FATHER!! NO! AWOOOOOOOO!!!!” Grr Barker howls in pain. “How did this happen?!” He asks the surrounding servants and dogtors, suddenly displaying an expression of fury and hatred.

“My liege,” the King’s primary dogtor says, “we believe he was poisoned. His death was far too sudden for this to be a conventional illness.”

“Who is responsible?!” Grr Barker shouts, wanting answers.

“We believe it was the work of Corgin La Fey, my liege!” A tiny rat-servant who has been watching from afar squeals in a high-pitched voice. “There have been rumors that she lives on, and has sworn revenge against the Bone!”

Hearing this, Grr Barker slowly raises his head, looking up at the coat of arms mounted above his father’s chamber.

“She will be ended for this.” He snarls with a deep, sinister growl. “That wicked Phelyon will know my wrath. SERVANTS!” He barks. “Prepare my armor! Tomorrow, we ride!!”

Watching, as always, from the shadows, Squirrelin overhears the new developments. Knowing that the prophecies have now been put into motion, he retreats to his study to research what must be done.

To be continued…

The Ward & the Bone: 7

After the seventh hour of the seventh day of the seventh month of the seventh year of the seventh century of the seventh Age, the brave Bite, Toother Mansbestfrienddragon, overcame his enemies. He led a valiant assault upon the entire Realm, ousting the Phelyons and their evil regime. This is common knowledge, and their story is told in halls across all the Land.

However, a far more secretive element of the story exists. An element, should it be widely known, that would open the Kaynine’s new Kingdom to challenge, and contest. This element is the very weapon that enabled Toother to defeat his powerful foes…Excalibone! The fabled blade that contains unspoken magical properties, allowing its wielder to own the battlefield with the mightiest of presences.

Much to the dismay of Toother’s campaign, the legendary Excalibone was lost after the final battle between the Phelyons and Kaynines. Thus, the knowledge of such a powerful artifact was buried, deep, deep, underground by the furious digging of Kaynine paws. The scrolls detailing Excalibone’s last known whereabouts were buried way beneath the Catabones of Cage Spamalot, far out of reach of any who may remember its influence.

Now, the Kaynine’s face their greatest test since the War of the Realm. They must recover the weapon that they so carelessly lost, or helplessly face Corgin La Fey’s reinvigorated armies of the East!

The Ward & the Bone: 6

The evening following their arrival to Cage Spamalot, The Lady of the Shake and her honorable Bites have settled into their guest quarters, much appreciating the fluffy, soft floor beds Grr Barker and his troupe has made available. As is customary, a Grand Feast is held in honor of the regal guests, with minstrels and jesters providing song and entertainment while the nobility discuss matters of state.

“He is Brave Grr Slobin, Brave Grr Slobin!”

Dancing atop an empty table, a small crew of minstrels begins singing the same song they sung as they approached the Cage earlier in the day.

Slightly under the influence, Grr Barker stands and hoists his silver goblet-bowl to request something else.

“Minstrels!” He barks loudly. “Play a song honoring the Kaynine’s who conquered the Kingdom!”

This request catches the attention of the entire court, as the events that led to the Kaynines’ triumph have been long debated amongst the land. Opting to please their host, the minstrels pick a tune that honors Grr Barker’s father, the current King of the Realm.

“Yes! We shall play the tale of Toother Mansbestfriendragon!”

Taking their positions, the minstrels begin singing the ballad that honors Grr Barker’s father and his campaign to liberate the Realm from the Phelyons oppressive rule.

“They came from nowhere, these Kaynines, and when they saw the harsh Phelyons, they drew their bones, and threw their stones, and now the Realm has grown and grown! With treats they came and fed the land, upon the Phelyons sad last stand, the Bites of Round Bowl, then unknown, gave peace by wielding EXCALIBONE!!”

As the melody booms throughout the Hall, Grr Barker leans back, proudly watching the court revel in the victorious song. Noticing a subtle poke in his side, he turns to see what has approached him as the rest focus on the continuing ballad.

“What’s this?” He asks, looking down at the rat-servant who has poked him.

“Please, my liege, The Lady of the Shake beckons you.” The servant says, bowing her head in respect.

Intrigued, Grr Barker leans over to a still-enamored Grr Pantsalot.

“Grr Pants, keep an eye out on the festivities. I must answer this most cryptic of dispatches. I leave you in charge of the festivities.”

“Of course, my Liege.” Grr Pantsalot barks. “I shall oversee the feast with honor.”

Satsified that he’s placed the Feast in a good boy’s hands, Grr Barker exits the chambers as he follows the rat-servant. Making their way through a winding tunnel of underground catabones, they arrive at a secret chamber previously unknown. Waiting patiently is the Lady of the Shake, whom Grr Barker watched walking through his Cage doors just hours before.

“Greetings, Grr Barker.” The Lady says, her soothing voice echoing through the underground halls. “I have learned much about you over the past several months.”

Not knowing what kind of encounter this will be, Grr Barker responds with a neutral tone.

“Is that so, Lady? Pray tell, how have you come upon such knowledge? Our Kingdoms are united, yet separated. How has my liking been passed along to your lands?”

Casually strutting forward, the magnificently beautiful Lady of the Shake walks down from the elevated stone she is standing on.

“Such knowledge has not been obtained conventionally, my dear Prince. It has come to me in a vision, one which overwhelmed me when I shook off the bathwater the other day after I bathed.”

”Tell me of this vision, m’Lady.” Grr Barker says, kneeling.

“I exited the tub, Prince, whereupon a towel was placed upon me. As I dashed into the nearest blanket and comforter to maniacally shed the moisture that plagued my fur, I saw you. I saw you holding the fabled Excalibone, standing tall amidst a ferocious battle. You were fighting the last of the Phelyons who had so desperately launched an assault on your Kingdom!”

Hearing of the Lady’s vision, Grr Barker gasps.

GASP!

“This…this cannot be so!” He barks, taking a step back. “My father ousted the last of the Phelyons! It is known!”

“No, Grr Barker.” The Lady says. “Evil still remains in the Realm, and it is your destiny to destroy it. You must dispatch yourselves and find the fabled Excalibone! There is no other way.”

Knowing The Lady of the Shake never speaks untruth, Grr Barker pauses a moment, and takes a deep breath.

“Yes. I shall find it, m’Lady!” Turning to the rat-servant who led him, he instructs her to scribe a dispatch. I call upon all the Good Boys and Bites of the Round Bowl! Gather! We have a quest!!”

To be continued…

The Ward & the Bone: 5

The morning following the magnificent feast of the finest soft foods, the Bites of the Round Bowl are beginning to wake up, clumsily trotting into the Breakfast Chamber where they are all fed the day’s first meal. As the last of their troupe, Grr Sleepsalot, finally enters the chamber, the soft sound of music can be heard echoing through the castle cage’s iron windows. Jolting up to see who approaches Cage Spamalot, Grr Barker rushes to the window to look down upon the minstrels and small group of honorable Bites who have arrived to join in on the season’s festivities.

“He is brave Grr Slobin, brave Grr Slobin,” the minstrels can be heard, melodically singing a ballad honoring one of the troupe. “He fights, he jousts, he marks, he pees, and all the lovely ladies love him for Grr Slobin lives to please!” The song continues.

Excited to welcome the new arrivals, Grr Barker turns to face his constituents, excitedly shouting for them to prepare yet another day of games.

“Grr Pantsalot!” He howls, opening his arms. “Please send a dispatch to my Lady Playpenuivere! Tell her to send her finest bitches to welcome Grr Slobin and the other Bites accompanying him. They shall enjoy the regal hospitality that Cage Spamalot is renowned for!”

Finishing the final laps of his breakfast bowl, Grr Pantsalot leaves his seat and stands tall, energetically saluting his Prince.

“Of course! Lady Playpenuivere shall receive the message post-haste!”

Trotting off, Grr Pantsalot exits the building.

“So who all has come?” Grr GoodGalihad asks. “I know we were expecting many of the Bites to join us for the Games, but I questioned the courage of some. Who thinks they have what it takes to compete?”

Taking another look out of the Cage’s window, Grr Barker peers down to try and identify the other Bites.

“Hmm. I believe I see Gercival, who has not yet been Bited yet. He has not yet earned our title. And is that…yes! Roars the Younger is among them. Let’s see, who else…Grr Scratchalot, of course, he’s always tagging along. I see Grr GraitDane, always noble and chivalrous. And…no. Can it be? Is…is that The Lady of the Shake? Surely my eyes deceive me.”

Squinting, Grr Barker focuses his gaze on the ephemeral, eloquent Kaynine that is being carried into Cage Spamalot by a group of rat servants.

“It is! The Lady of the Shake is among their party! Good boys,” Grr Barker says, aggressively about facing to give his instructions, “we must prepare our finest bed and adornments! We have a Goddess among us!”

Hastily scrambling to make sure the welcome party is adequate for such an arrival, the court adjourns, getting to work on their tasks at hand.

Watching from the shadows, Squirrelin holds his tongue as the naïve troupe of Kaynines prepare for their fun and Games. He knows he must come up with a good reason for his most benevolent of Princes to see reason. Retreating to his study, he absorbs himself in the scrolls and prophecies of yesteryear. He must learn what is to transpire if he is to combat fate itself.

To be continued…

The Ward & the Bone: 2

Grr Barker

“Grr Barker! You have forgotten your vest-piece!”

As the gigantic crowd gathering around the fairgrounds sits in anticipation of the Games, the magic-wielding mentor of Grr Barker, heir to the Bone, chases after the daring Prince holding a Leash of Armor in his hand.

“Fear not, Squirrelin!” Grr Barker shouts back as he charges ahead, valiantly guiding his faithful steed Lambrei toward the jousting arena. “I shall have no need for such protection! Grr Sleepsalot may be a Bite of the Round Bowl, but he poses no challenge to the likes of me!”

The crowd, seeing the handsome Grr Barker ride out so daringly with no concern for his own protection, roars in support of their future King.

“ALL HAIL GRR BARKER!!!” The chant echoes across the land, reaching even the chipmunks who occupy the outskirts of Spamalot, the Kaynine’s Kingdom and Castle.

“’Tis a beautiful day for the games, no?” Grr Bitesalot says to his fellow Knights as he peers up into the bright, blue sky; anxiously awaiting the joust ahead.

“Aye, it surely is, “ barks Lady Playpenuivere, Grr Barker’s faithful betrothed. “I only hope he doesn’t hurt himself again,” the beautiful bitch adds. “The last time he jousted without a vest-piece, the Royal Vet had to attend to him for days. He worries me with such careless antics.”

“Bow-wow, fear not m’Lady,” Grr GoodGalihad says. “Barker always maintains his composure in the ‘Pens. He will come out without a scratch, I assure you.”

“I hope you are right, GoodGalihad,” the bitch says. “He so loves his theatrics. It pleases the common-folk, but I worry every time he sets paw in that arena. I pray to the Dogs that they bestow their blessings upon him. I know not what I would do if I were to made a widow.”

Interrupting the barkalogue, the Games’ trumpets are blasted, echoing across the entire Realm.

“KAYNINES!” The announcer barks, straddling a brown bear as he struggles to maintain his grip on its reigns, “LET THE GAMES BEGIN!!”

As the announcer manages to steer the brown bear away from the fields into the Cage for Commentators, Grr Barker and Grr Sleepsalot take their positions opposite each other on the long, green field.

“JOUST!!” The announcer woofs, aggressively waving his paw.

Both riding their favorite foxes, the two contestants charge at each other with bone-lances in hand. After several suspenseful seconds of fox-trotting, the two clash together as Grr Barker’s bone-lance strikes the heart of Grr Sleepsalot’s fluffy vest-piece, de-foxing him.

“HUZZAH!!!!” The crowd barks, drooling in excitement as they witness their Prince circle the Fields in victory.

“AWOOOOOO!!!!!!!” Grr Barker howls, holding his lance toward the sky in triumph.

“I told you!!” Grr GoodGalihad bow-wows to Lady Playpenuivere. “Ha! Let’s join the celebration, shall we?!” He adds, launching himself over the short, hallway-sized divider meant to keep the Kaynines from entering places they shouldn’t enter.

Beaming at her betrothed, the bitch bats her eyes several times before letting her indifferent gaze fade into a wide grin.

“Fine,” she reluctantly says through her smile. “Time to celebrate…again.” She adds with a playful eyeroll.

As the crowd celebrates their victor, a raspy voice stirs far to the East.

“Fffffffftttt.” The voice fits, observing the celebration from afar in digust. “These Kaynines’ days are numbered, mark my words. Mark them, as they unwittingly mark their territory which shall soon be MINE!!!”

To be continued…..

The Ward and the Bone: 1

The Beginning

Lo, verily, and behold.

It was the seventh hour of the seventh day of the seventh month of the seventh year of the seventh century of the seventh Age; the Bone Age. For so long had the Realm been ruled by the monsters of yesteryear. Those snide, cunningly demonic oppressors who could see through the night as if it were day…the Phelyons. Many millennia had passed since the Phelyons conquered the domain, and many millennia had passed since the realm experienced true peace.

That is, until the Kaynines came.

The Kaynines, a race which hailed from a previously unknown land, had introduced themselves to the Realm unexpectedly, having never been seen or heard of before. This new brand of noble, courageous warriors witnessed the death and despair the Realm was strangled by, fighting valiantly to overcome the Phelyons’ rule. For many decades the War of the Realm transpired, finally ending with the Kaynines emerging victorious. Peace, fortune, and love swept over the Realm upon their victory, echoing until this very day.

Until…this exact, very day.

No, B!

Why does he just stare at me

As I’m driving, silently

Watching oh so creepily

Licking chops so hungrily

Does he think of eating me?

Does he want his bowl to be

Filled with water, does he see

How his gaze drives me crazy?

I must breathe, I think I’m free

Surely he is not hungry

For my flesh and bones, I think

He just likes to look at me

Phew I’m calm, finally

I’ll just turn and drive, as we

Wait…whats this you’re doing, B?

NO! Oh my God, someone help me!!

My Dog is Famous

Oooookay!

Where do I even begin? I suppose a little background context is a good place to start.

So my dog, Mr Baxter, has a nasty habit of chewing his leashes. He’s pretty much the perfect pup outside of that one annoying, economically burdening trait. Most of my brainstorming for writing is done with a beer, on a dog friendly restaurant patio somewhere – so naturally he has ample opportunity to inconspicuously gnaw his way to freedom while I’m immersed in my journals and outlines. So every time he successfully liberates himself, I’m forced to buy a new leash. I’d get a metal one, but toting one of those around gets annoying and clinky.

Anyway, so the other day I left my office to grab lunch and run into PetSmart to return his latest leash. Obviously I couldn’t take him in because he wouldn’t have a leash on the way in. So I left him in the car. By the way, it was 64 degrees outside and I was only going to be gone for like two minutes. In and out.

Well as I return to my car, I’m confronted by a lovely social justice warrior taking photos of my beloved Mr Baxter in my car. So I’m like “um, what are you doing?” 

The girl then proceeds to berate me and tell me how abusive I am to my dog, and that I was lucky she didn’t bust my windows out and next time she would. So I tried my best to explain how my dog is literally like a son to me (he’s all I have), and that he probably gets better treatment than most humans. She wanted nothing to do with that. Instead, she informed me of how illegal it was for me to leave him. A comment to which I responded “well if what I just did is illegal, then that’s a stupid law.” And I may have told her she was the problem with America, but whatever. 

Anyway, I go back to work and mention my recent encounter on Facebook to get a laugh. Then, in my post thread, someone tagged a photo of my hometowns FB page where she had posted a pic of my car, license plate, and peacefully slumbering dog – telling the whole world I was a monster basically. 

Naturally, as these things always do, there was a huge outcry of differing opinions. Most were pretty reasonable thank god, stating that he looked fine. So I then commented her public post myself and explained what had happened. 

That’s when the business went down.

Suddenly an enormous surge of awesome, logical folks came to my defense. It was amazing, and I’m still speechless at how good it felt to have so many kind hearted people to have my back. 

The post has since been deleted. But now, at the behest of some of these community members, we are going to host a #vivamrbaxter event where people can bring their dogs, have fun, and get educated on the legal standpoint of this type of thing. Like when you can and cannot be a hero.

Point is, now the community has turned what could have been an overly dramatic fight into something that will raise money for animals, and everyone wins.

That, if I may say so myself, is how the world should work. 

I freaking love my city.

The Revolt Returns: 8

“Hey, what was the name of that new girl again? You know, the brown haired Lenghornian with the exquisite…personality?”

Back in Spam’s newly reconstructed Tower of Management, Will the Wolf ponders the assets of a Lenghornian newcomer with Chilian manservent, Quesadilla.

“I know not, my Lord.” Quesadilla replies. “I am but a lowly Chilian. Our ribs and terrible 2 for 1 specials in those tiny mugs pale in comparison to you Lenghornians. You know I am not savvy to such information. I am nothing if not a loyal subject of my dear, sexy Spam.”

“Ah, valid point, peasant.” Will says. “Perhaps I shall raid their pathetic village and take her for my own. Show her how a real wolf gets down,” he growls with a creepy glint in his eye.

Suddenly, a female voice echos from an adjacent chamber.

“I would find that most unwise, my hairy lover.”

Waltzing out of the nearby walkway, a majestically sexy fox with an inexplicable aura of sophistication joins the pair.

“Assuming, of course, you intend to keep that wonderful wolf manhood of yours attached to your body,” she adds with a wink.

“My love! You know I jest,” Will the Wolf says with a subtle adjustment of his woolly pants, effortlessly concealing his embarrassing blood flow as his gaze glides up and down Celeste the Sultry’s painfully attractive body.

“That’s what I thought,” she says with a smirk and a peck on his wolfly cheek. “Alas, where is our leader? Surely its time to finalize our plans for the assault on the Lenghornian village.”

Interjecting, Quesadilla angrily answers her query.

“Our beloved leader is seeing to her commitments in the North, fox,” he says with an annoyed glance toward Celeste.

As a dedicated Chilian, Quesadilla is fiercely loyal to none but his offensively nasty restaurant. Spam, being the conniving woman she is, wooed the slave and his compatriots through an ingeniously crafted plan to gain Chilian support. Simply put – she informed their corporate management to take the beef bacon ranch quesadilla off of their already disgusting menu. After her suggestion led to quadrupled profits, the Chilian constituents fell right into her perfectly placed trap. As intended, her army swelled and she inherited the mindless servant that is Quesadilla.

“When does she intend to return?” Will the Wolf asks, smoothly deflecting the obvious resentment Quesadilla had directed toward his foxy lover.

“Our liege is scheduled to grace us with her return on the ‘morrow,” the manservant sneers. “Now, you must excuse me. I am required for other, more pressing obligations. Since she has graciously deemed me worthy of such responsibilities,” he adds as a not-so-subtle slight toward Celeste.

Exiting the chamber, Quesadilla hobbles toward whatever tasks he undoubtedly had just made up. Left alone, Celeste grins as she hops into her lover’s hairy arms.

Turning her head toward the sky, she smirks.

“Its time to end this chapter, I think,” she creepily says to me. “I know you didn’t really develop the plot in any meaningful way here, but I’m seriously jonesing for this guy’s…service,” she says with a soft laugh and nod toward the wolf of her dreams.

Wondering how the hell a fantasy character became aware of its omniscient Godly creator, the author types the last few characters of his entry, closing the cover to his laptop with a confused, blank stare on his face.

My Favorite Bird: A Puffin Poem

I’d like to tell a story

So I can make it known

About the cutest little bird

The best that’s ever flown

Many of us wonder

What it feels like up above

We watch the seagulls, larks and jays

The pigeons and the doves

Gliding through the air with ease

Owning all the sky

Diving down with grace and speed

When tasty food they eye

In number, birds are many

There’s more than we could name

And yet, there’s only one

Who runs the feathered game 

So stop and pay attention

For knowledge I bestow

The greatest bird to ever live

Is one you all will know

Their passion unmatched, they fight for love

When times get rough they toughen,

Wear coats of armor, black and white

That’s right, our King’s the puffin

How many birds will test for sharks

By pushing friends off rocks?

Or pluck their haters eyes right out

When threatened, scared, or mocked?

Little butlers that hop around

Though penguins they are not

But try to take a puffin on

And prepare your corpse to rot

Short man’s syndrome, you might say?

Yet I would argue no

Puffins simply run this world

No doubt the best of show


A puffin, deep in thought, ponders existentialism and considers the world’s many mysteries
“We dem boys!” – Group of puffins

Male puffins, by nature, are born with game that human males can only dream of