THE GOLDEN RETRIEVER

“You swear you don't know anything about it?”

“No! I already said I was going to ask you.”

“Well I wonder who the hell put it here?”

“Why?”

“Cause it's on our damn porch!”

“No, why would they put it on our porch?”

Their collective understanding of the situation was pooled, and they determined that it must have been placed there sometime between two thirty and three fifteen in the afternoon. “It,” was a stuffed golden retriever. The dog was posed in a sitting position, ears perked, tongue lolling happily out of the side of its mouth. It looked as if it were obediently waiting for its master who, presumably, left it there. The dog appeared to be in pretty good shape: some dust on the fur, a few burn marks. The consensus was that it wasn't broken, as there are only so many ways one could go about breaking a stuffed dog; all of which would have been immediately noticeable.

“It looks alright. Can we keep him? Whoever put it here obviously didn't want it anymore.”

“Bring it inside. Someone will steal it if we leave it out here.”

“Who the hell would steal it, Howard?”

“Who the hell would put it on our porch, Doug?”

“Touché.”

            The golden retriever was placed in a prominent location in the living room. Howard commented it really tied the room together. A name was eventually settled upon. A fire hydrant-shaped tag, engraved with the moniker “Xerxes,” was purchased for five dollars at a kiosk in the mall, and a black studded collar was acquired from a pet store. Both were fastened around Xerxes' neck.

Doug originated a game where the dog was moved incrementally around the house to create the illusion of life. Every time Howard went into the living room the dog would be in a different spot. Some days Xerxes would be gazing contentedly out the window. Other days he would be gazing contentedly at the TV. Regardless of where he was positioned he was always gazing and he was always content.

            Xerxes was the ultimate in kitsch. Suddenly the giant plaster great white shark head seemed demure. The cardboard cutout of Leonard Nemoy was subsequently ignored. The Kiss pinball machine ceased to delight. Everything had been eclipsed by the addition of the stuffed golden retriever.

             

“I'll get it.”

Howard swung open the door. Standing before him was one of the most bizarre human beings he had ever beheld. The man couldn't have been more than 5 feet tall, wore only a black jumpsuit, and had skin the color of a Vienna sausage. Instead of eyes the he had tiny black discs. In relation to the rest of his face, his mouth was enormous, and his hair was treated with an obscene amount of styling gel.

            “You are toying with forces beyond your control Mr. Merrik.” When the man spoke it was as if the air simply fell out of his throat rather than being articulated by his soft palette or tongue.

            “What forces?”

            “I am here to collect Mr. Merrik.”

            “Collect what? How do you know my name?”

“Everyone knows everyone in certain time schemes Mr. Merrik.”

            “Time schemes? What do you want sir?”

            The Man was gone. He had not left; he was simply not standing in front of Howard any longer.

            “So he just disappeared?”

            “No. He didn't even disappear. I was talking to him and then all of a sudden I wasn't. I didn't look away or blink or anything. He just wasn't there anymore.”

            “Is it possible you imagined this whole incident Howard?”

            “I guess. But didn't you hear the doorbell? You must have heard that.”

            “I don't remember. I was um, indisposed.” Everyone knew that Douglas was a chronic auto-fellatist, a skill he had honed at the age of 13. It was one of the few things he was truly good at. Howard, on the other hand, excelled at being the son of a very well respected Physics professor at Dunnick Univeristy. They were both gainfully unemployed.

            “Yeah. Well anyway, I'm going to make some food. You want anything?”

 

            “Doug! Come here! Look at this!”

            Doug peered into the rusty pot of boiling water. “What exactly am I looking at here?”

            “Dude, look at that one bubble.”

            Howard pointed to a single bubble hanging in the center of the pot. It just sat there, totally motionless amidst the boiling water. He slid open a drawer and fished out a spoon to scoop up the bubble. Once free of the water, however, the bubble vanished; there was nothing left for it to displace. The spaghetti was declared to be excellent and the bubble was subsequently forgotten.  

            Xerxes had been adorned with sunglasses and a Chicago Cubs baseball hat.   Doug believed that this was an excellent example of his type of creative skill. Howard agreed that it was indeed “fucking hilarious.” Living dogs would not tolerate such things to be placed upon their heads. Old Xerxes had no problem.

            One morning, descending the stairs, Howard tripped over Xerxes who, the previous night, had been cunningly placed there by Douglas. In his pre-caffeinated state, Howard took a few minutes to process the severity of what had just happened. The tibia of his left leg was protruding about a quarter of an inch through his shin. It hurt.

            “Shit! Doug!”

            “Yeah?” Doug spooned another load of captain crunch cereal into his mouth.

            “Dude, I broke Xerxes leg.”

            “FUCK! Seriously?”

            “And mine too I think.”

            “SHIT MAN! Xerxes!” Doug picked the dog's right front paw off the floor and held it above his head. The sunglasses and the Cubs hat were splayed out next to him.

            “Goddamnit my leg hurts.”

            “Um, Howard...”

            “What should we do?”

            “Howard, I don't think Xerxes is stuffed.”

            “Huh?”

            “Look man, there's like bones and shit in his leg.”

            And indeed, there were bones and shit.

            “Great. So how are we going to reattach it?”

            “I don't know. Your dad's a scientist isn't he? Maybe he can take a look at it. Maybe he can do something about your leg too.”

            Xerxes and his leg we placed delicately in the front seat of Howard's Neon. There had been some deliberation as to who would drive since it was Howard's car and Doug was unfamiliar with the most direct route to the university. In the end, Howard's opinion prevailed, as he had a bone projecting through a bleeding orifice in his leg. He squeezed into the backseat, careful not to make too much of a mess.

“Hello boys. What brings you by?”

            “Hey Professor Merrik.”

            “Hey Dad.”

“Jesus son! What have you done to you leg?”

            “Oh, I fell.”

            “That looks nasty. And what is that you've got there Douglas?”

            “This is our dog Xerxes sir. Howard broke his leg off, and we thought he was stuffed, but it looks like he might be real.”

            “You sure? Hmm. Well, let me take a look. Sit tight son, I'll take a look at your leg in a minute.

            Howard and Doug patiently waited in Professor Merrik's office. Dozens of framed awards hung about the walls. Howard studied a picture of himself and his father on a fishing trip taken when he was in the fourth grade. Doug began to count the books with the name Norman H. Merrik on the binding but was cut off at thirteen by Norman H. Merrik re-entering the room.

“Well you were absolutely right Douglas, this is not a stuffed dog at all. It's rather curious. It appears to be as dead as a rock, but shows absolutely no signs of decomposition. You fellas wouldn't mind if I kept Xerxes here tonight to do some tests on him, would you?”

            “That's fine dad. Do you think you could do something about my leg?”

            “Gee I don't know Howard. You should probably go to a doctor about that. Do you want any money for some food or something?”

            “Sure. Thanks dad.”

            “I'll give you boys a call tomorrow to let you know what I find out about the dog.”

            The boys made it back home after a quick stop at Denny's and the hospital. The living room looked desolate without the golden retriever keeping watch over the place. Howard collapsed onto the couch and propped his leg up on a couple of pillows. He had opted for a neon green cast. On it Doug had already depicted a dinosaur attacking a village of people with a sharpie.

“Wanna watch a movie or something?”

            “Sure, what do you want to watch?”

            Zombies Crash the Beach Party was eventually settled upon. Howard and Doug spent the remainder of the evening basking in the glow of the Undead.

            Howard awoke to ringing. The television cast a blue hue over the living room.

            “Doug will you get the phone?”

            “I have to get the door.”

            The doorbell and the phone had apparently been ringing simultaneously. Howard begrudgingly hefted himself off of the couch and hobbled his way towards the telephone.       

            “Some guy here wants to talk to you, Howard.”

            “Damnit, you get the phone then.”

The black eyes cut across the living room before the voice, lagging behind, could reach Howard.

            “What have you done with Benny, Mr. Merrik?”

            “Hold on just a sec.”

            The man was already scuttling through the door. The phone was still ringing.

            “Hey wait, I'm coming. I didn't say you could come into the house. Doug, get the phone!”

            “I know. I'm picking it up right now Howard.”

“Mr. Merrik, what have you done?”

            “OK! What are you taking about?” Howard was breathing heavily from hopping all over the room.

            “Mr. Merrik, it would be wise to disclose the location of our dog.”

            “OH! This is about Xerxes! I broke his leg off yesterday. We're getting it fixed.”

            “Where is he, Mr. Merrik?”

            “Hey Howard it's your Dad on the phone! Hey Professor Merrik. Yeah we got Howard's leg taken care of. Huh?”

            Professor Merrik had called from his lab. He hadn't left the university since the previous day. “Listen Douglas, I was running tests on that dog all night. It's a living dog alright, but it's totally inert. I checked everything, even down to a molecular level; it's frozen. Doug, this dog is somehow unaffected by time. It has transcended the fourth dimension.”

            “Hey Howard, your dad says Xerxes has transcended time, or something.”

            “What?”

            “Where is the dog Mr. Merrik? I would hate to have to harm you.”

            “Transcended time, Howard!”

            “That's right, Mr. Merrik. Benny was our first success. We of The Order of Anachronous White Light    tested our device on a member's golden retriever. It was quite a success. Unfortunately someone made a large mistake and left the subject sitting on your front porch.” The tiny man had drawn a pistol from his front pocket and was casually pointing it at Howard.

            “Shit! Doug he's got a gun! Do something!”

            “So this dog is completely unaffected by time?”

            “That's correct Douglas.”

            “Well, that's pretty cool, right?”

            “Yes, but here's the catch. Once one particle is stopped, the others follow. It will start a chain reaction and all the particles in the universe will cease to move through time. Time will utterly cease, Douglas. And it's already been done so there's no way to stop it.”

            “Really? Man.”

            “DOUG HELP!”

            “Mr. Merrik, you should not have gotten involved in all of this.”

            “You left it on our fucking porch! What did you want us to do!?”

            “Hey Howard, your Dad says time is going to stop completely.”

            “WHAT!?!”

            The impish man in black paused and scratched his chin with the barrel of his pistol. “Stop completely. Hmm. We were afraid this might happen.”

            “Afraid this might happen!?”

            “Yes but we knew the benefits far exceeded the risks.”

            “Of stopping all time!? You son of a bitch!”

The tiny man pulled the trigger on his pistol. There was a loud noise and a projectile rocketed out of the barrel towards Howard.

Howard is about to punch the son of a bitch in the face. The bullet hangs in the middle of the room, as do all the atoms, forever and ever.