Wow! I havn’t been on the computer in a week! No, more than a week! I don’t even know what was the last day I was on. Oh well.

Lately, I’ve been writing a fair amount of short stories about Pippin. I thought I’d like to share one with y’all, and see what you think! My sibilings think they’re wonderful, but then again, they think all my stories are wonderful. So, here goes;

William Tell; Don’t Shoot the Dog!   

“I Don’t want to! I won’t!” said Pippin stubbornly.

“Well, you’ve got to.” said DoRight. “Since you can’t be trusted, I’m supposed to keep an eye on you, and since I’m the director and lead actor of this play, I have to be here, which automatically translates into you having to be here with me. We need somebody to be the son, and you’re the smallest, so, you’re got to be him!”

“No I don’t!” protested Pippin, “I don’t want you shooting at me!”

“I won’t be, Pippin! Just the apple!.”

“But you’ll miss.” said Pippin, “And then what happens to me?”

“Nothing! Even if I do miss, it’s only got suction cups on it, so it won’t even hurt.”

“Oh yes it will!” cried Pippin, flushing with indignation, “I’d poke my eyes out! And then you’d be sorry!”

“It won’t poke your eye out, Pip” said DoRight, in a tone that clearly said Oh Brother.

“Yes it will! And then-!”

A blast of music interrupted him.

“That’s it! The play’s about to start!” cried DoRight, “Know your lines?” he asked Pippin.

“Lines? What lines? I’m not-”

“Yes you are!” interrupted DoRight fiercely, “You’re being the son if I have to drag you on the stage! When we go, it’s up to you, whether you say your lines, or embarrass yourself. ‘Choose for you, this day’!”

Pippin gulped. He knew DoRight meant business. Hurriedly he dropped his gaze to the script in his paw.

“You’ve got 5 minutes to learn that.” said DoRight.

Pippin muttered something inaudible, but diligently studied his lines.

 

Fortunately, there weren’t very many lines to learn, and when DoRight and Pippin- or William Tell and son –went out on the stage, Pippin’s lines were delivered with so much grace and ease, one would never guess he had just learned them.

Everything went well, until it came time for the soldiers to take the son and tie him up to the tree. As they laid their paws on Pippin’s shoulders, panic seized him. He did not want to be shot.

“No! No! Don’t touch me! You can’t! You can’t make me!” he shrieked, and twisted in the bigger dogs’ grip, trying desperately to get away.

This was not in the script, and the soldiers kept giving DoRight glances. Now what? DoRight had to do something fast.

“Be still my son,” said DoRight, making up the words on the spot. “There comes a time in everydog’s life when he must face the fury of the storm like a rock in the sea. We can face it with that strength, because we have our trust in God. Be still, and know that he is God, my son.” He gave Pippin a meaningful look, and Pippin cringed visibly.

            Trembling, he allowed the soldiers to tie him to the prop tree, and set the apple on his head. He watched apprehensively as DoRight pulled back the string of the bow.

            What he didn’t know, was that at that moment, DoRight was thinking about what Pippin had said earlier.

            “It’d poke my eye out!”

            “No it wouldn’t,” DoRight had responded. Now, looking down the shaft of the plastic arrow, Pippin’s head was not that much bigger then the stuffed apple. It would be so easy to miss…

            But it wouldn’t hurt me if I got hit in the face! thought DoRight. No it wouldn’t. Said another thought. But Pippin’s a wimp. Really! He can’t help it! He was born weak! So what would happen if I did hit him?

            DoRight swallowed nervously. He didn’t know, and he really didn’t want to find out. He hated to make his people angry, and if he hurt Pippin, there would be plenty of reason to for them to get mad. He was supposed to watch Pippin, and keep him safe! Not poke his eye out!

            DoRight drew a deep breath, and let fly the arrow.

            Pippin gasped and shut his eyes tight. There was a faint thunk, and when he opened his eyes, the arrow had entered the slit prepared for it and was drooping down ‘till it nearly touched his nose.

            The crowd erupted in cheers and clapping and shouts of hurrah! And Pippin breathed a sigh of relief, simultaneous with DoRight’s.

 

            After the play was ended, DoRight, Pippin, and all of the cast went down and signed autographs. Pippin was pleased with the attention, and he signed his autograph with a huge smile on his face.

            A beautiful Chihuahua came walking up with a shirt in her paw. She sniffed, and rubbed a paw across her mascara-plastered eyes, then smiled at Pippin.

            “Will you sign this for me?” It was a souvenir shirt with the name of the play on it; William Tell.

            “Sure!” said Pippin, glad to oblige.

As he signed the shirt, the Chihuahua spoke.  “You’re my favorite.”

Pippin looked up, shocked. “Really?”

“Oh, yes! You’re such a good actor!” now she was beginning to gush, “When you were fighting to free yourself from the soldiers, it looked so real, I thought you really were fighting them! My heart was pounding wildly! Oh, and when William said that, why, I burst into tears! What acting! What a hero he was, that son! So courageous!”

Pippin was blushing, but it was hidden under his red fur on his head. Yet, he was immensely pleased.

“Oh, thank you!” said the Chihuahua, when he was done, “I’ll-, I’ll tell all my friends, and, why, we’ll all come back together, and-, and watch it again!”

“Excellent!” said Pippin, in his charming way, “I shall be delighted to have you honor us with your presence once more! I look forward to the occasion.”

The Chihuahua giggled and blushed, and moved off to get more autographs. But there was little room left for them; Pippin had written his so big, it fair took up the entire back of the shirt!

 

Meanwhile, DoRight was signing a ticket for a male Boxer about his age.

“Great show,” the Boxer was saying, “You-all did a good job.”

DoRight nearly cringed at the “you-all” (which, to a southerner, is about the most irritating imitation of  “y’all” that was ever created), but he mastered his feelings and said “Thank you!” very politely.

“I especially liked the part where William is about to have to shoot the apple on his son’s head. That little squirt was a good actor, playing he was trying to get away like that. But that speech of yours, well, that really was the icing on the cake! That was great. You’re a great actor, and you’ve got a great script writer too.”

DoRight looked up. He didn’t know what to say. He was flabbergasted.

The Boxer continued, “And then when you pulled the string and were about to shoot, well, I really thought you were afraid to shoot!”

DoRight said nothing.

“You both looked scared, actually,” added the Boxer, “yeah man, you got a real show. Thanks dude!” He waved the ticket and walked off.

 

“Hey! Hey Do’!”

DoRight turned around. He was backstage, and it was Pippin talking.

“Hey, when do you plan to do this again?”

DoRight raised an eyebrow, “I thought you didn’t want to do this?”

“Well, I’ve changed my mind.” said Pippin, in such a decided tone, it was almost annoying.

“Every Saturday for two months, if you wanna know.”

“Two months?! Oh, good!”

“What, you like it?” asked DoRight, surprised.

“Of course I do! I like to act, you know that!”

“Yeah, I guess…”

“Oh, and, uh, DoRight?”

“Yeah?”

“I think they liked it.”

“Uh-huh… oh, Pippin?”

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t poke your eye out.”

“Oh. Uh, yeah. No, you didn’t.”

   The End!