With Scotty in tow, the puppy was practically Giselle’s already. Terry leapt in a fit of joy, which the sewage covered-puppy saw and mimicked. Gazelle’s going to be so pleased, thought Terry. Now that I have this puppy, she’ll have her birthday present faster than it the time it takes for the zombies to finish off humanity!
Terry was not a brilliant man. Terry was not even a bright man. Terry was barely more intelligent than the sewage that soaked the lower portion of his body. And here’s an example behind this logic:
“If television has taught me anything, it’s taught me that dog’s have exceptional smelling! So this little puppy should have no problem sniffing out a scarier Irish puppy!”
Unfortunately for Terry, Scotty was not bred for smelling. Also unfortunately for Terry, Scotty would have been unable to smell anything at all at the moment except for sewage and feces (which had a particularly pungent odor), which covered the pup’s entire body. Even more unfortunately for Terry, he didn’t realize that dogs do not understand English, and telling a dog to find “a scary Irish dog” would probably not yield very positive results.
Trying to follow Scotty’s lead was difficult for Terry, as he was getting more and more lost as the adorable, shit-covered puppy trotted onward. They were definitely not heading towards any pet store or even Ireland. In fact, they appeared to be in some kind deserted downtown area.
“I don’t see any puppies,” said Terry uneasily. What Terry did see was thousands of bodies and body parts lying in deathly stillness across the horizon. Small pools of blood and bodily fluids surrounded everything. The stench in the air was beyond even that in Terry’s mother’s backyard. Terry had not experienced such horror since seeing Jeffrey’s cellar.
“This reminds me of Jeffrey’s cellar…”
It was nearing dusk, and Terry had to meet Giselle at her apartment in two hours, which would get him there exactly two hours late, which was his usual timing for their dates. But without the present he needed, he dared not show his face. Pulling out the business card with the poorly scribbled message from his wallet, Terry groaned in disappointment. “scott. terrier pup” was what he had failed to achieve. But what the hell did that even mean?
“Scott…” whispered Terry to himself. He looked at Scotty, and suddenly his eyes lit up with hope. “Terrier…” He looked at his driver’s license, which read: “Terry Donovan.” Terry breathlessly found the final word. “Pup…” He looked around his wallet, but could find no connection for that one.
“All Elle wanted for her birthday was for someone named Scott that was more like me…Terrier than it was before! Of course! It all makes sense! And since Scotty here has been spending most of the day with me, he’s about as “terrier” as he’s gonna get!”
It all happened so quickly. Terry and Scotty ran back to town, Terry stuffed the cute pup into a box and wrapped it with Christmas wrapping paper he found in his mother’s home, and Terry arrived at Giselle’s apartment with two minutes to spare.
“You’re early.”
“Merry Christmas!”
Giselle uneasily and angrily took the box from Terry, expecting to be disappointed with whatever the hell it was he had found for her. “Probably war bonds or something…” she mumbled.
As she unwrapped the Santa-ridden paper from the package, Terry stared in stupid bemusement. A smile lined Terry’s face that was so true and hopeful that nothing in the world could remove it from his face. He had done good. He had done what he set out to do. He was bringing happiness to the one person in the world who meant anything to him. He wasn’t as useless and infuriating as everyone made him out to be. Sure, the world was ending in an incredibly horrific fashion all around him, but he had done something of value.
“What the fuck is this?!” screamed Giselle, holding the feces-covered, asphyxiated Scottish terrier in her arms.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!” she screamed again, holding Scotty’s breathless, dead corpse up to Terry’s face.
“DO YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY, YOU STUPID FUCKING BASTARD?!” Giselle threw Scotty to the ground. He landed with a thud, but felt nothing, as he had been dead for over an hour from oxygen depravation.
Giselle punched Terry in the face, with a powerful and angry blow that landed at his nose. Terry fell back, blood gushing from his nostrils. Giselle fell back in horror of her boyfriend’s evil stupidity and the world’s general situation. As tears streamed down her eyes and screams intermittently rang from her throat, Terry gathered his bearings and ran out of the apartment, never to return again.
So maybe he hadn’t quite succeeded. But he had tried his best and given his all. And he still had that to be proud of, and all of the screaming in the world couldn’t take that away from him. Terry walked off into the night with no particular destination. Within the next two days, they had all been killed by zombies...
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