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Morning Over the Shop
A Thursday Prompt story
© 2023 by Walter Reimer
Prompt: loaf
Special condition: 365 words
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
“Get up, sleepyhead.”
The border collie didn’t lift his head from the pillow and merely turned his face toward his wife, who stood over him. “I’m too comfortable,” he said finally. “I’m not getting out of bed today.”
His mate sniffed in derision. “You never go full Oblomov, you nitwit. Come on now, you have baking to do.”
“You do it.”
“Me?”
“Well, you said you had a yeast infection – ow!” He recoiled against the pillow as she fetched him a clip across the ear. “What was that for?” he demanded, burrowing deeper into the warm blankets.
His wife had her paws on her hips. “Wrong kind of yeast, you moron. Now, get up and get the bread started. The shop needs to open at nine.” She glanced to the right, ears flicking. “There’s a crowd already forming.”
“Is there.”
“Yeah, and I don’t think they’re very happy about the store hours.”
“Why?”
“Some of them are carrying pitchforks.”
He considered this for a moment before submerging himself in the covers until only the tip of his nose was visible. “Keep the door locked.”
“And if anyone asks - ?”
“I’m taking the day off dead. Tax reasons.”
She growled. “I’ll tax you – “
“You did that last night,” he said. “My back hurts.”
“It’ll be more than your back hurting, if you don’t get out of bed.”
“Zzzzzz . . . “
“Are you actually trying to snore?” she asked.
“I’m asleep,” he replied. “Don’t wake me up till after Christmas.”
A paw came down on the bulge in the blankets that indicated the location of his buttocks. “It is after Christmas, you idiot.”
“I meant next Christmas.”
That earned him another buffet on the butt. She leaned in close, yanked the blankets aside and shouted in one of his ears, “GET. UP.”
The two shouted words elicited a whine, and the border collie flinched as his mate pulled the blankets off him. She then climbed on the bed, shoved him over until he was face down, and sat straddling his back. “No! Not that!” he yelped as she spanked him. “Ow!”
“So?”
“Alright, I’ll get up and get the bread baking,” he grumbled.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
end
A Thursday Prompt story
© 2023 by Walter Reimer
Prompt: loaf
Special condition: 365 words
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
“Get up, sleepyhead.”
The border collie didn’t lift his head from the pillow and merely turned his face toward his wife, who stood over him. “I’m too comfortable,” he said finally. “I’m not getting out of bed today.”
His mate sniffed in derision. “You never go full Oblomov, you nitwit. Come on now, you have baking to do.”
“You do it.”
“Me?”
“Well, you said you had a yeast infection – ow!” He recoiled against the pillow as she fetched him a clip across the ear. “What was that for?” he demanded, burrowing deeper into the warm blankets.
His wife had her paws on her hips. “Wrong kind of yeast, you moron. Now, get up and get the bread started. The shop needs to open at nine.” She glanced to the right, ears flicking. “There’s a crowd already forming.”
“Is there.”
“Yeah, and I don’t think they’re very happy about the store hours.”
“Why?”
“Some of them are carrying pitchforks.”
He considered this for a moment before submerging himself in the covers until only the tip of his nose was visible. “Keep the door locked.”
“And if anyone asks - ?”
“I’m taking the day off dead. Tax reasons.”
She growled. “I’ll tax you – “
“You did that last night,” he said. “My back hurts.”
“It’ll be more than your back hurting, if you don’t get out of bed.”
“Zzzzzz . . . “
“Are you actually trying to snore?” she asked.
“I’m asleep,” he replied. “Don’t wake me up till after Christmas.”
A paw came down on the bulge in the blankets that indicated the location of his buttocks. “It is after Christmas, you idiot.”
“I meant next Christmas.”
That earned him another buffet on the butt. She leaned in close, yanked the blankets aside and shouted in one of his ears, “GET. UP.”
The two shouted words elicited a whine, and the border collie flinched as his mate pulled the blankets off him. She then climbed on the bed, shoved him over until he was face down, and sat straddling his back. “No! Not that!” he yelped as she spanked him. “Ow!”
“So?”
“Alright, I’ll get up and get the bread baking,” he grumbled.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
end
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Border Collie
Size 120 x 92px
File Size 44.3 kB
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