Creative Writing · Stage 1 · Stories

Stage 1 – Take 1 – Day 19 – Miscellaneous – Drunken Drivel

You! Yes, you, the one reading this. STOP. Stop reading this right now. I’m drunk as a potato. A vodka potato. And, apparently, I didn’t consider that when I wrote the rules for this damned challenge. And none of my family members are in hospital. So I have to write 200 words of fiction (or thereabouts or a poem of more than half that length). And, well, I’m too drunk to word. So, just stop reading right now.


Once upon a drunken potato, there was a little puppy named Abigail. She had a very fine tail and a bark that even the deaf could hear. Unfortunately, she had the narrative sense of a petunia and no plot line to speak of.

One spring time morning, Abby awoke to gentle sun and chirping birds. She yawned loudly, and pointedly, and when that failed to wake her human, she nudged him. He mumbled, rolled over, and went back to sleep, for it was not even eight yet and that’s too early for a human on a Sunday. She sighed and trotted out the back to sit on the porch chair and watch the pigeons play.

As she enjoyed the sun soaked yard, she heard a distant high pitched sound. She sat upright, ears twitching every which way. Trying to confirm her fears. The sound came again. Louder this time. It was unmistakable. Somewhere children were having fun. This could not be! Abby bounded off the porch chair and sprinted to the front most corner of the yard, barking to raise the alarm. She stuck her nose under the front fence, but could neither see nor smell the little cretins. They could still be heard though. They sounded like they had gotten even closer. She sprinted back inside to the front door to ensure it remained secure, and then to the room with the heater and the window, but the blind was closed and she could not see the enemy. She barked louder, fearful that her human would not wake to defend himself from these passing devils. Then she ran back to the bedroom and leapt onto the bed. She sprung off her human, and stuck her head under the curtain. Finally! She could see the little devils. She barked as loud and as long as she could, and her human joined in, muttering swear words and complaints about the early hour.

Terrified of the mighty warrior pup, the children fled down the street. Satisfied that her work was done, and having worked up quite the thirst, Abby licked her humans face – he pushed her away, embarrassed by the display of camaraderie – and bounded off to her water bowl. She drank deep and long, readying herself for when she would next need to defend the fortress from whatever evil demons may pass by.


Verbosity, I can has it. I didn’t want to write part of the Fractured Earth stories or any of the other universes floating around in my head, for fear of being too drunk and adding something I’d just have to take back out. So, I sat in my study for a little while, staring at my wall, waiting for inspiration to hit me. Then Abby jumped up and started pawing at my shoulder, demanding attention (which was fair enough, I’d been out for about 12 hours and she gets lonely, poor little girl 😦 ). So, I figured, hey, why not write about one of Abby’s Sunday mornings. It was fun to write, and I’m actually kind of keen to write more stories from a dog’s perspective. I’m sure it’s been done many times before, but I feel it could be amusing.

To be fair to her, she only rarely wakes me up – and almost never licks my face. And when she wakes me in the morning, it tends to be at something more like 11 than before 8…

As a bonus, here’s a photo of her: 20150808_223521

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