Two weeks passed and it happened again.
Four years ago Nina Porter, Coronado class of 2009, wrote a 1,000-word short story based on the below picture and caption. Read. Enjoy. See how she mastered this project.
Under The Rug
By Nina Porter, Coronado class of 2008, written in 2005
He sat up straight in bed, his heart pounding furiously. Two weeks had passed and it had happened again. That dog barked constantly. Mr. Simmons had begun to consider sleep his only escape from that monster. Yet, here he was wide-awake at three-thirty in the morning listening to the yapping of little Foo-Foo next door.
Mr. Simmons was an older man who lived alone with his cat Plymouth. They had been living on quiet Cherish Lane for a good while now and life had been pleasant until their neighbor, Miss Jenna Hall, had gotten married and moved away. The couple that had taken her place consisted of two quite large people called Mr. and Mrs. Ross. They owned the fattest most spoiled Pomeranian Mr. Simmons had ever seen. The dog had not stopped yapping since they had pulled in the driveway and although Mr. Simmons did not mind the Rosses as neighbors he blamed their dog’s “problem,” as he called it, on them.
Now Mr. Simmons lay awake in his bed unable to ignore the obnoxious barking of the neighbor’s dog. He could hardly remember what it had been like to have a quiet house. Thoughts of ways to get the dog to shut up filled his mind and made him smile. Mr. Simmons was not a sick person so some of these thoughts scared him, but he could still hear that barking and lost his sympathy.
Three-forty, three-fifty, four the time ticked on, Mr. Simmons still lay awake haunted by the cacophony coming from next door. There were small lulls in time when Foo-Foo stopped for a drink of water but within seconds he was back at it. Mr. Simmons was beginning to go insane. His heart rate was soaring and his thoughts were racing.
Finally he got out of bed and dressed. He grabbed his garden spade and headed next door. “I have put up with this long enough,” he said stepping off front porch. If Mr. and Mrs. Ross were deep enough sleepers to sleep through Foo-Foo’s racket surly they would not notice Mr. Simmons sneaking into their backyard. Foo-Foo greeted Mr. Simmons with four happy barks and those were last that were ever heard.
Driven with insanity Mr. Simmons lifted Foo-Foo’s limp body, put it in a garbage bag and walked with out to his car. He got in his Cadillac and drove to the city dump. In one swift movement he got out of his car, threw the bag over the tall barbed wire fence onto a pile of trash and got back into his car. He sped home as though in a dream, looking through tunnel vision at blurred streetlights. He pulled in the driveway and without even locking his car went in to his bedroom. Mr. Simmons undressed and lay down in his now quiet and peaceful bed and went to sleep.
When Mr. Simmons awoke the next morning it was much later than he usually slept and at first he wondered why, then he realized that there was no yapping. It took Mr. Simmons a few more seconds to realize why but then he remember. After that his day went as it normally did. It was while he was cleaning his kitchen that his doorbell rang. Mrs. Ross stood there teary eyed and flushed. “Hello Mrs. Ross,” said Mr. Simmons coolly.
“Hello,” said Mrs. Ross with a snivel, “Have you seen my darling dog Foo-Foo? He was missing this morning when I went to get him.”
“No, I’m very sorry I haven’t.” Mr. Simmons lied.
“Oh, well then,” said Mrs. Ross with a sob, “Have a n-n-nice day.” With that she left shuffling down his driveway heading to the house next door.
Mr. Simmons returned to his cleaning wondering what the Rosses were going to do when they realized Foo-Foo was not coming back. He skipped lunch because for some reason his stomach hurt and instead decided to dust his study.
He was taking a break when he shut his eyes for a moment and thought he heard Foo-Foo’s yapping again. He opened his eyes and say that the noise was coming from a Foo-Foo sizes lump under his rug. The lump moved towards him and the barking got louder. He could no longer remain calm and he stood up and raised his chair over his head. The lump continued to move towards him and almost tipped his lamp and table over. Mr. Simmons screamed and came down with the chair slamming it over and over on the barking lump. Each time he hit the lump it made a hollow thud but kept moving towards him and did not stop barking.
Mr. Simmons slammed his chair down again and again but the lump remained unfazed. Mr. Simmons broke into tears. “Why won’t you die!” he screamed at the lump. The lump continued to bark. The legs snapped off Mr. Simmons chair and he ran from the room. He stopped in the kitchen to see if he could still hear the barking. At first he thought the noise was gone for all he could hear was his heart pounding in his ears, but after a short while it returned. He pulled at his hair trying to rip the sound from his brain. The yapping went on.
Mr. Simmons ran from the house. He could no longer stand it. He was on his way to his car, but when he got where it was supposed to be he found it missing. He was determined to get away from his haunted house so he ran to his Winnebago and started the engine. He flew out of the driveway and sped down the street. He did not know where he was going exactly but he had a full tank of gas and was going to get as far away from his house and the city as he could.
He passed the city boundary and was heading down the mountain when he realized that although he had left his house and left the city he could still hear the dog barking. He turned around and saw under the rug of his Winnebago, the lump. It had followed him. Just as he was putting two and two together his Winnebago left the ground and was soaring off the road... He screamed and that was the last thing anyone ever heard form Mr. Simmons. |
