Bob sat on the old wooden porch in the shade of the veranda. A bluejay, perched on the red flag of the mailbox, looked at Bob and flew off when he saw Bob make a move to get up. The bluejay flew in circles, teasing, and came to rest on a plate of syrup left on the table, under the tree where a pile of papaya pancakes had been served that morning. The bluejay had no qualms in splattering dribbles of syrup all over the neatly handwritten love letters that were scattered over the table; letters that flowed in pink ink. Bob barked and made a lunge for the table.
A Daily Post prompt, using the words: bluejay, mailbox, syrup, ink, plate, and include Bob, the dog.