Training

While it’s been a couple months since I’ve tried writing a comedy, I felt the itch to expand my skills, so I searched through past prompts for NYC Midnight’s Micro Fiction competition. When I read the prompt, the basic storyline thundered into my mind like a truck through someone’s front wall. With each passing second, the vague idea crystalized and in the blink of an eye, the dialogue between a couple tumbled into my laptop.

As I went through the drafting process, my mind flashed through memories, locking onto a faint memory from my college days. As I finished the story, my lips curled up as the broad strokes of my narrative mirrored this man’s story about his dog. Thankfully, I remember laughter complementing his story.

Come, sit down and allow me to give you a mini-escape and kindle your imagination.

Training

Samantha’s fingertips whitened as the bridge of her nose reddened. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Max?”

As his fingers wrapped around a treat, Maxwell rested his chin on his knuckles and pointed at the puppy. “Training a dog is simple.”

“Are you kidding?” Samantha kneeled beside him, digging her fingernails into Maxwell’s thighs. “You’re dismissing the fact that people make an excellent living doing this.”

With a grin, Maxwell peeled her fingers off and turned to the pup, brandishing the treat. “Sit.”

Instantly, the pup’s butt dropped to the floor.

Maxwell lowered the bone, as he said, “Lay down.”

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