Flash Friday Fiction: Gone to the Dogs

Caruso with phonograph, early 1900s. Baen photo owned by LOC; no known restrictions.

Gone to the Dogs – 158 words

“You ain’t nothin’ but a Hound Dog, cryin’ all the time.”

I shudder to think what Mr. Edison would say if he knew the crimes this phonograph committed on a daily basis. Screeching instruments of some sort or another, caterwauling of the worst kind.

“Bow wow wow yippee yo yippee yay, bow wow yippee yo yippee yay.”

I have no doubt Aunt Myrtle did this. That crazy old bird was always up to one nasty trick or another. Even after death, her ashes are somehow wreaking havoc on my beloved music player. She knew I despise canines.

“They called it Puppy Love.”

Gone are the days of Mamie Smith, Louis Armstrong. Duke Ellington. All I hear now are the endless barks of humans masquerading as singers.

“The dog days are over…”

Yet I play it again, and again, hoping each time for something new. Something different.

“Who let the dogs out? Who who who who who?”

Doggone it.


Woowee, boys and girls! I’m back in the Flash Friday competition, having hung up my judge’s gown last week (I kind of want it back; it’s cold in here!). At first I had no idea what I was going to do with this photo prompt, until I saw that Our Lady Dragoness had requested we include something about a puppy. Suddenly I saw Elvis Presley singing to that hound dog back in 1956, and the rest of the 150 (+/-10) word story flowed from there.

What do you think? Am I in the doghouse for this one? Hop on over to Flash Friday to leave comments and read the other excellent entries this week!

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