Don Wiskerleone 443Words Contest Entry

Prompt for contest: An owl flies in the house through an open window and perches on the back of a dining room chair. A dog enters the room and sits in a chair across from the owl, while a cat hops up and sits in the middle of the table. Write the STORY or POEM from there.



         Hitomi the Great Horned Owl had only four talons with which to cling to her chair, but she did it with perfect poise. Her other digits ended abruptly at the knuckle and were tattooed colorfully with serpentine dragons. She tap-tapped one long hooked claw and slid her nictitating membrane across her big amber eyes in clear irritation. "My time is limited this afternoon."

         Across the table there was a growl in response. Ivan the Terrible Dog was a sizable, slender, street Borzoi sporting wispy grey fur that rose at the hackles. He held posture stiff as a czar though he sat on a plush, velvet seat cushion.

         Between these bitter foes sat their host.

         "I called you today, because it concerns me when my good Friends are in disagreement," said Don Whiskerleone, with a flick of his cream tail. "We all have to protect our respective interests, but our truce spans a decade of dog years."

         Ivan the Terrible Dog looked down his long nose at Don Whiskerleone, and said in a thick Russian accent that flopped vowels and poured rippling R's, "My Friend. Dog has to do what dog has to do. This fat pigeon breaks truce and so, Ivan ignore truce same way. "

         "This business of turning heads," said the Don, his eyes meeting those of similar shape and color in Hitomi the Owl's, "turning them in 360 degrees, is not welcome to my ears."

         "His mongrels wander," said the owl. "They'd do best to sell biscuits in their own territory. Surely you agree, Don Whiskerleone. You run all your catnip without crossing any lines."

                   "Her flying rats roam all the skies sprinkling her birdie seeds," said the dog in a snarl, "And she dares to tell Ivan's dogs where to pass biscuits? Life is life. Biscuits are biscuits. And this bird, she speaks only lies." His fangs were ignored by the Don, who purred and closed his eyes a moment.

         "I want no acts of vengeance," said the Don, pressing his paws down in finality. "The score ends here."

         "This is squirrels tricks. Fat pigeon runs this show, not you, Don Whiskerleone," said Ivan the Terrible Dog. "I am done with you both. Truce is dead." He promptly hopped from his seat and peed on the leg of the table, before leaving.







443 words