Wishing a happy Father’s Day to all the dad’s out there
And one of my favorites:
(all images found on Pinterest; video found on Youtube)
Nick and Nora glanced over from where they sat on the couch to look at their silver tabby cat all curled up, asleep in its soft cat bed under the window. A sunbeam streamed through the window to cover the cat like a warm blanket. His tail would occasionally twitch slightly.
“Shasta sure looks cozy over there, doesn’t he?” Nora asked.
“He sure does,” Nick said. “And look. He seems to be smiling. I wonder what he might be dreaming about.”
“I don’t know. But it must be something nice, for him to smile like that.”
“I suppose so.”
Nick and Nora turned their attention back to the TV and let Shasta sleep.
In his dream, Shasta sat perched on a throne high up at the top of a flight of stairs. Female cats sat at attention around him. Two humans stood at either side of him, fanning him with large feathers. He tried to fight the urge to jump and attack the feathers since it would be unbecoming for a ruler of his stature.
Below him, at the foot of the stairs, a large crowd of humans was gathered. They chanted his name continuously and bowed to him over and over.
Nick and Nora walked from a side room at the foot of the stairs and climbed up them. They were dressed in servant’s clothes. As they approached Shasta, they bowed. When they finally stood before him, they kneeled and held out plates full of his favorite foods.
Shasta’s tail twitched happily and he purred in contentment.
It was good to be the king, he thought.
A loud purring sound coming from Shasta in his cat bed caught Nick and Nora’s attention and they looked away from the TV to look at him. The cozy cat’s tail was twitching more and, if possible, he looked to be smiling even more.
“Just what is he dreaming about?” Nora asked.
Nick shrugged and replied, “Probably world domination or something. Isn’t that what cats are supposedly planning, anyway?”
This story is part of the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt, “rhymes with rosy”:
“Seriously?” Mitch asked Jethro as they sat on the patio, drinking beers.
“Seriously,” Jethro replied.
“You took a photo of Bigfoot while out hunting?”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Believe it. I got it right here.”
Jethro took a swig of beer then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a 3×5 photo.
“Let me see that!” Mitch said, snatching the photo out of Jethro’s hand.
Mitch stared at the photo for a couple of moments, occasionally narrowing his eyes to try to get a better look. Then he scoffed and handed the photo back.
“This picture’s too blurry! You can’t make out anything! That could just be some big old bear or just a really hairy person in need of a good shave. You can’t say for sure that that’s Bigfoot!”
“Yeah, well, I know what I saw! And I saw Bigfoot! I swear! It’s not my fault the picture came out blurry!”
Mitch shook his head sadly. “Dude, I think it’s time you cut back on the beers. Seriously.”
This post is part of the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt, “adverb”:
She wished everyone would quit trying to label her as one thing or another. She was a unique person who had many different sides and she wished they’d understand that.
This day-late post is part of the Tuesday Use It In A Sentence prompt, “label”:
“Lex the Brave spots a path ahead on his left, barely noticeable among all the trees and bushes,” says the DM. “He adjusts the sword strapped to his back and plunges into the foliage to follow the path.
“Lex follows the path for a while, and it eventually ends at a clearing. In the middle of the clearing this a large stone altar. Atop the altar is a big gilt chest.”
“Lex starts towards the altar,” says Lex’s owner, “very eager to see what is in the chest, certain that it must be a great treasure of some sort. But he holds back, wary of any traps or hidden dangers. The path to this place had been suspiciously safe, and Lex would have expected something to block his entry to the treasure.”
“So you want to check for traps?” asks the DM. “Very well.”
Lex’s owner rolls the die and the DM checks his sheet.
“All clear,” says the DM. “There are no hidden traps.”
“Then Lex steps into the clearing to check the chest on the altar,” says Lex’s owner.
“As he does,” the DM narrates, ” a giant troll appears in order to guard the altar.”
“A giant troll? Ugh! How much XP does it have?”
The DM answers and Lex’s owner groans as he looks at his character record sheet. “I don’t think I have enough XP to beat him.”
“Still, you need to make a saving throw. Who knows, you might get lucky.”
Lex’s owner grabs the die and shakes it in his hand. He closes his eyes and whispers a prayer as he rolls the die.
The DM looks at the number on the die, surprised at the result. “Well, well, well,” he says. “It looks like you got lucky after all. The troll starts to charge you but it trips on its feet and falls backwards, hitting its head on the side of the altar and knocking itself out, leaving you free to investigate the chest.”
“Woohoo!” says Lex’s owner. “I open the chest.”
The DM rolls the die. “Oh, too bad. You should have checked it for traps, too. The chest is boobytrapped. You’re pricked by a poison needle hidden on the clasp.”
Lex’s owner looks at his sheet. “Dang it! I don’t have anything to ward off poison or enough XP to heal myself with magic.”
“Do you want to try a saving throw anyway?”
“Sure, why not.”
Lex’s owner rolls the die.
“Oh, too bad. Better luck next time.”
This post is part of the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt, “xp”:
Listening to her angrily admonish him, he found her keen tongue to be as sharp as any blade and he was quite keen to get away as quickly as possible and give her time to calm down.
This post is part of the Tuesday Use It In A Sentence prompt, “keen”:
Echoes of Life, Love and Laughter
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