The Conflict for Happy Rock

10 4 2

Written by Greg
Translated by Kourtnie

I says to hoomans, "Go knock," watching as taller hooman inspects the fence, as if it latches differently than other fences,

until shorter hooman walks up, thumb-flips the latch, and exchanges a daring glance;

shorter hooman's
decided it's time
to confront the lizard-
person in the dilapidated
house, to retrieve Happy Rock,
our treasured front yard decor.

Taller hooman walks
only a foot ahead of
shorter hooman, both
apprehensive yet
incited to not let one
go without the other.

Can I say, this is
the most excellent
quality of hoomankind?
In face of great fears,
and obvious danger
of Proxima Centauri B
invasion, hoomans refuse
to stand by as one goes on

ahead; I just wish
Feline Societies
could rally all hoomanity
to come together as one,
throughout the little blue
dot, without the added
pressure of alien invasion
on our paws and hands.

An old lady answers
the door, interrupting
my cattish thoughts,
her hair thinned
by the stress
of unhappy living.

"What," she says,

prompting taller hooman
to respond, "Our Happy
Rock is missing, and
the other day,
when I walked by,
I saw it in your yard;
so I would like it back."

"I'm not a thief!" she shrieks.

"But it's one of a kind,"
I mutter; there is
no other explanation.

"The teenage punk
who lives here
likely took it,"
shorter hooman says,

and that does it:

The lady's face rips off
as a three-headed lizard
emerges from her neck

so I bunny-leap
with claws out, roaring,
"Protect hoomans!"

First draft: July 18

Second draft: 18

Word count: 272

American CatseyeRead this story for FREE!