Friday Flash Funny
Here’s a little script I wrote yesterday called “I Break Up With My Dog”
I don’t know if it qualifies as Flash Fiction but it comes in at 941 words including title. I may try to rewrite it from the dog’s POV at some point as an exercise but I’ll just throw it up here for now. Maybe some of you Flash Fiction experts can tell me if this would qualify and suggest what I should do with it.
I Break Up With My Dog
Master: Hey, Missy, come here! Come here, girl!
Dog: Yes, master? Do you have a treat? Can I get a scratch? What is it? What is it?
Master: Settle down, settle down, sit. I just want to talk to you for a minute.
Dog: Okay. I'll sit. Mind if I chew a bone? I love bones.
Master: Go right ahead. Listen. I don't know how to say this. We kinda need to talk.
Dog: It's okay. I'm your dog. I'm here for you. Mmm bones.
Master: Yeah. That's kinda what I want to talk to you about. You see, when I first adopted you, I kind of was looking for something, I don't know what. Now, after a few years, I don't know, it's not quite what I expected.
Dog: Well, that's normal. You hadn't had a dog for a long time before me. I'm sure we can work out whatever it is. Bones.
Master: Can you stop with the bone already? That's the thing. I've been thinking. I'm just not sure that things are really working out—
Dog: Wait. Hold on a second. Oh my God. I see that look in your eye. Are you—are you breaking up me?
Master: No! Well, “break up” is a strong word.
Dog: I don't believe this! You can't just break up with me! I'm your dog!
Master: Just hear me out. I've been struggling with this for a long time. I've been wanting to tell you but I've been so busy and it just never seemed like a good time.
Dog: I know we've been growing apart, but I don't get it. What's changed? Do you need some space? Is there—is there another dog?
Master: I just feel like—
Dog: Gasp. There is another dog. Who? Is it that bitch Goldie? I see you two playing fetch sometimes at the dog park. I never said anything but—
Master: We didn't mean for it to happen! I swear. You're always so busy with your friends. One day we just got to playing, then—one thing led to another. Now we can't stop seeing each other.
Dog: I think I'm going to be sick. Goldie? What does she have that I don't? Just because she's a few years younger, and has that long thick coat. You masters are all the same. I should have known. God, I'm so stupid.
Master: Come on, it's not your fault.
Dog: What's wrong with me? Don't I warn you about strangers? Don't I help keep the floor clean? Don't I wake you when your alarm doesn't? Don't I do my business in the accepted spot?
Master: You're a great dog. No one can deny that. It's just, I've changed. I'm just looking for something else in my life right now.
Dog: Is this about your stupid fetish to have two dogs at once? Is that it? Fine. I can do that. Bring it on.
Master: Well, when you think about, it would give you more time to do your own thing. When you're tired, I can just play with the other dog. And you'd have someone to keep you company.
Dog: Fuck the other dog. I'm a one-master-one-dog dog. The thought of another dog licking your face, letting you pet her--I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I think I'm going to faint.
Master: I didn't want it to happen like this. A master has needs. You have to admit, you're just not as spunky as you used to be. Two, three tosses of the ball and you're exhausted. Some days you don't even want to play at all.
Dog: You bastard. What did you expect? I only live twelve to fourteen years! I get old quick! If you wanted something that lasted, why didn't you get one of those woman things? Ooh, that's right. You can't get a girlfriend. So you got a dog instead. And just like the women in your life, you're willing to throw it all away because you think there might have something better waiting in the wings. Let me tell you, the problem isn't "out there". It's you. If this is really over, then I have nothing to lose by saying this. I've tried to be a good dog, to be supportive, but look at yourself. You don't shave. You don't brush your teeth. You don't wash your hands. You don't clean this shithole of a house we live in. You're a filthy slob, only worthy of the love of a dog.
Master: I don't need to hear this from a dog. It's over. I'm sorry, I never meant to hurt you. I can put you out back for now, until you can find another place. I gotta go now.
Dog: Please, please don't do this. I can change. I can fetch balls. Look, here I go. Whee, look at me, I'm fetching.
Master: Stop. Stop! You're just embarrassing yourself.
Dog: What do you want me to do? I've been your dog for eight years. I don't know how to be anyone else's dog. I don't want to go to another family. Please. Give me another chance. I'll be better, I promise.
Master: Stop begging. It won't help this time.
Dog: Fine. But before I go, you should know this: Remember the time your girlfriend found another girl's panties in the couch so she dumped you? That was me. And I have plenty more stashed around. Think about that the next time you invite one over, you'll never know what they'll find. Goodbye, I never want to lick you again. And I'm taking the bones with me.