Noteworthy Writing Prompt # 8
"Write a story that involves the second hand of a clock."
Just a funny little story for you.
A Fool and a Stick That Ticked
By Anuschka de la Court
“You will die today!” and I meant it, “whatever means it takes, be afraid, because today is your day to die.” That small red little stick circling annoyingly on the wall making it’s loathsome noise and keeping me from my cat nap, was going to make it’s last round, “if my name isn’t Pharaoh, queen of this domain!”
I sat upon the desk scanning the kitchen for a leap over point, which would make the least amount of damage to my majestic figure. I realized I needed to call in the troops, for the fall from the jump would most likely injure me and I needed to think about my future reign in this castle.
“Meow!” I called the dog, she came running, she was always eager to provide her services. Angel and I had an understanding. If she came when I called, I would not hurt her. Dogs are so easily lead, and so simple of mind it astounds me.
“Meow!” I called out for the fool, my subjects call Yoda. He has been nothing but an irritation since he came into my Kingdom at the age of 3 weeks old, he and his brother they called trouble, wreaked havoc in my domain until trouble left. Every now and then Yoda will still try to cause distress in my realm, but I can wrestle him down when he attempts that foolish behaviour.
“What do you want?” Yoda sauntered into the kitchen like he owned the place, full of disrespect for me, his Queen.
“I will fix that,” I muttered under my breath and I told him to jump onto the refrigerator and wait for further instruction.
Although, I could probably do this task on my own, what good is being Queen if you can’t delegate your subjects to do the risky work for you?
“You will jump from the fridge to the clock on the wall, releasing it’s grip from the nail and allowing it to fall onto the floor where Angel will pounce on it and destroy the infernal ticking noise so I, your queen, may get the beauty sleep she requires.” I sat up straight and looked from one subject to another, “On my mark… One… Two…”
“Forget this!” and with a smirk that half wit brother of trouble jumped off the fridge, flipped me the bird, and sauntered back into the living room.
“He will be hanged.” I glared at his retreating form then back at the dog. She smiled simply in my direction, and eagerly waited to do the task I commanded her to do. No, she would not walk away; she would sit there for hours and not ask any questions. Stupid dog.
I jumped off the desk and headed up the stairs where it was quiet. Where there was no need to break the second hand of a noisy clock, and I slept. I dreamt up a plan on how to eliminate the buffoon they call Yoda. The dog would help.