A few months ago, my friend (and compatriot from this decade old journal entry)  and I did a writing exchange (recommended/inspired by THIS lovely friend).  The gist is this: you write for ten minutes on a prompt, then send what you came up with to each other.  Then, you write only positive feedback about your partner's piece and send it back.  It is so much fun!  Highly recommended.  I feel like posting some of them, so here's number 18!

... 

The little dog chucked.  "You'll never make the jump.  Your foot will get caught in a crater and your whole leg will rip off.  You'll end up like that poor forgotten knife in the drawer.  You heard about his wife, the spoon?  She ran off with the dish.  You believe that? I do.  That dish was more man than the knife ever was.  You ever see him hold a steak?  It's fucking poetry.  But you, you're like that knife.  Naive, disgusting.  Why would you even try to jump that high?  Pitiful."

The cow's eyes were big and glassy.  All pupil--black. She stared down the mangy creature before her, there turning in on himself, licking his own ass, fleas surrounding him like the halo of Jesus Christ or his saints in a medieval painting.  Her self doubt was creeping in, and she wondered why the little dog's derisive laughter had such an effect on her.  She despised him, always had, since the second grade when he entered the school.  The new kid. His way of integrating himself into the farm's landscape was to mercilessly torture her, belittle the cow and her friends, the chicken and the pig.  But the little dog's rancor was most often turned toward the cow, and during recess the majority of the schoolyard would join in on his taunts.  The cat would accompany the songs the dog would make up about her on his fiddle, and the lyrics still rang in her ears.

"Hey, diddle diddle!  Cow's a fatty in the middle!"

Suddenly she was overcome with her own laughter at the thought of those older days. She was wiser now.  She realized her fate didn't rest with the little dogs words.  She began running, and as she picked up speed, she launched herself skyward and sailed easily over the bright white moon.

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AuthorJenni Lark