| Humor Flash Fiction posted September 17, 2020 |
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Dogged Deception; no charge!
FLASH Fibbing
by Elizabeth Emerald
I came upon my granddog, Munchie, munching on an ant trap. He'd chewed it near through, sucked out every delicious drop.
I frantically dialed 1-800-222-1222.
"Poison Control. How can I--"
"My dog just ate a--"
"Call pet poison control: 855-764-7661."
"Pet Poison Control. How can I--"
"My dog just ate a--"
"I'll need a credit card number before I can assist you."
My credit card was buried in God (maybe) knows which one of sundry purses. No time for fumbling; I hung up and redialed people poison control.
"Poison Control. How can I--"
"My baby just ate an ant trap."
"How old is he-- she?"
"She's twelve." (Munchie's male, but hey, if I'm gonna lie, may as well go all in.)
"Twelve!"
(Munchie's age! Damn!)
I scrambled to cover. "I mean twelve months."
"What's her weight?"
"Eleven."
(Munchie's weight! Damn!)
"That's the size of a two-month-old! [pause] Is that the baby I hear barking?"
Busted!
"She's got whooping cough," I replied lamely.
"Call pet poison control: 855-764-7661."
I came upon my granddog, Munchie, munching on an ant trap. He'd chewed it near through, sucked out every delicious drop.
I frantically dialed 1-800-222-1222.
"Poison Control. How can I--"
"My dog just ate a--"
"Call pet poison control: 855-764-7661."
"Pet Poison Control. How can I--"
"My dog just ate a--"
"I'll need a credit card number before I can assist you."
My credit card was buried in God (maybe) knows which one of sundry purses. No time for fumbling; I hung up and redialed people poison control.
"Poison Control. How can I--"
"My baby just ate an ant trap."
"How old is he-- she?"
"She's twelve." (Munchie's male, but hey, if I'm gonna lie, may as well go all in.)
"Twelve!"
(Munchie's age! Damn!)
I scrambled to cover. "I mean twelve months."
"What's her weight?"
"Eleven."
(Munchie's weight! Damn!)
"That's the size of a two-month-old! [pause] Is that the baby I hear barking?"
Busted!
"She's got whooping cough," I replied lamely.
"Call pet poison control: 855-764-7661."
I frantically dialed 1-800-222-1222.
"Poison Control. How can I--"
"My dog just ate a--"
"Call pet poison control: 855-764-7661."
"Pet Poison Control. How can I--"
"My dog just ate a--"
"I'll need a credit card number before I can assist you."
My credit card was buried in God (maybe) knows which one of sundry purses. No time for fumbling; I hung up and redialed people poison control.
"Poison Control. How can I--"
"My baby just ate an ant trap."
"How old is he-- she?"
"She's twelve." (Munchie's male, but hey, if I'm gonna lie, may as well go all in.)
"Twelve!"
(Munchie's age! Damn!)
I scrambled to cover. "I mean twelve months."
"What's her weight?"
"Eleven."
(Munchie's weight! Damn!)
"That's the size of a two-month-old! [pause] Is that the baby I hear barking?"
Busted!
"She's got whooping cough," I replied lamely.
"Call pet poison control: 855-764-7661."
 Recognized |
Thanks to Heather Eve Montez for artwork: Meet Mr. Chato
FLASHing solo (sans contest) at 200 words.
Inspired by truth; tempered by lies.
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and 2 member cents. FLASHing solo (sans contest) at 200 words.
Inspired by truth; tempered by lies.
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