I cannot confess
to any success
playing
chess

and nevermore now
since

mine dog Dennis
—vicious brute!
—sharp of tooth!
has, forsooth!
—finished

the King.

Or, almost.

The beast
heretofore lieth
under mine table
chewing on some thing

methought was a bone…

but no

nonny nonny no.

‘Twas the King.

—Alas and alack!
The thing
is King
no more.

A sneak attack
whereupon
said brute,
confronted
subdued
scolded
and
marked
for banishment,

now groveleth
for all hims is worth
on mine floor.

Thinketh thou that the tiny wag of thine tail wilt redeem thee, miscreant?
Arrgh! Poor little Den-Den! It’s okay! I forgive thee pretty much anything.
Even the destruction of said King.

*******

Composed for Day 16 of the Slice of Life Story Challenge with Two Writing Teachers