The house was sealed and cradled in silence. Only the rhythmic chewing of the parakeet’s beak against the dry, deceased cuttlefish, churned the quiet; a slow, steady gnawing. Barely intercepted Ted in the corner. His eyes were beet-bloodshot, or they would have been, if the whites were revealed, instead of the deep-brown saucers. “How could you Teddy?” Barley hoarsed through a dry throat. When he spoke, even now, under distress, the echoes of eons of ancient Mexican ancestry rattled through time and space, leaving a subtle, yet unmistakable accent. Perhaps it was the stress and fear, or perhaps it was the natural discharge synonymous with the breed, but his eyes watered. “You pooped in the kitchen, didn’t you Ted?” Ted emerged from the shaded corridor, his two bottom teeth penetrated out allowing his gingivitis to illuminate in the early evening sun. “If I were you Barley, I’d forget what you saw.” Teddy’s voice was slippery yet raw, like a snake slithering over jagged gravel. Barley lowered his head and pictured the three glistening turds, piled like jenga pieces near the dishwasher. “I can’t” he choked “How could you Ted? She let us out right before she left, she’ll be home any minute. Why couldn’t you wait? What you did to that kitchen…have you no soul?” Barley vainly pleaded. Ted tugged a Beggin’ strip from the pocket of his red polo, scratching the plastic lettering reading Stud Puppy, he drooled, pork grained slobber. “It’s about time you learned, Barley…” he paused ruthlessly “not all dogs go to heaven.” Ted turned his head away, not because he was too ashamed to bear Barley’s scrutiny, but because his head swam with the growls of the past; Ted had seen things.
Barley’s mind, wild with panic, searched desperately for a solution as the little golden latch clicked, a most heinous scrape. Ted perked his folded ears and tilted his head, “I’m sorry, my friend” he chuckled. “Sorry? What for?” Barley cried, but it was too late, she was already inside. She threw her bag on the couch, patted the dogs on the head, and sighed. She was so sweet, there in those last blissful moments before she knew, before her world had scattered. Barley studied her, he wanted to remember her always, just this way, just this innocent. Then her voice raged from the kitchen, “Oh come on! Dogs! Who did this?” She demanded. Barley turned his gaze towards Teddy, but before he reached his look, a squawk broke his focus. The bird called shrill and clear: “Barley pooped in the kitchen, Barley pooped in the kitchen.” Betrayal
–this is my submission for #blogbattles . I hope you liked it 😀