Scooby.

  That was the name my master gave me before her eyes closed forever, before that sticky, red stuff covered her neck. She always used to watch this cartoon with a brown dog in it that had the same name as me. No matter how much I barked or whined, she would never change the channel.

  It wasn’t like I didn’t enjoy being around her. That show just really made me mad. That silly dog always acted like a coward because of some dumb ghosts or monsters. And they always turned out to be peoples in the end, so what were you acting like a scaredy cat for? There was no way in doggy hell I’d end up like that loser! If I wanted a role model, then I'd just be my own.

  So when my master entrusted her little pet shop to me, I jumped at the chance. Obviously, there was a pet shortage since a lot of the animals turned into scary monsters. But that didn’t make this store any less important to her. This was her place of freedom, after all.

  Our treasure.

  Even when that masked man came in and made the whole town his playground, the pet shop wasn’t too affected, aside from the outside. As for the inside, everything was spick and span. I swept the floors, picked up items that fell down, got rid of those nasty critters that glowed green, sold stuff, managed the cash register. And all of that was done using my mouth!

  Maybe managing the register could’ve been removed from my daily to do list. I mean, it was always empty. And what even was cash?

  If only you were here to teach me, master. How could you give me a name, but not the skills to run such a fine establishment? Speaking of names, what was her name again? She never actually told me…

  I jumped off the counter, and hurried to where the last photo of me and her was. Master always called me her little ‘chihuahua’, which meant I wasn’t the biggest dog in the world. Not good, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t reach the top shelf.

  After a few tries, I realized that it did mean I couldn’t reach the top shelf. My head tilted. How was the problem going to be solved?

  My attention turned to the mask that one of the peoples here stapled onto my face. Hard to take off and hurt a whole bunch at the start. The answer was simple. Since I’m now a hard-headed dog, it’ll hurt the shelf a lot if I hit it with my head. In conclusion, it’ll free the photo from its grasp.

  I stepped back, readied my legs, and charged at the giant chunk of wood. The sound of its screams echoed across the room as random stuff on top of the shelf dropped to the floor, like balls and this red bottle that spilled brown water all over the floor.

  My plan was working. A couple more tries, and the shelf finally had enough. The picture fell, and I quickly approached it.

  Brown hair, brown shirt, beautiful smile—yep, that was her, alright. And that terrifying beast snuggled up in her arms was me. Well, before the mask. Gosh, my fur was way cleaner back then.

  Master used to clean it all the time. I liked baths with her. Oh, I should call Master by her actual name now. But looking at the picture didn’t send any new information into my brain. So with that attempt failed, the only thing I had left to pay attention to was the red spots on the photo.

  I sniffed it, and at that moment, my head started to feel heavy, heavy with memories that shouldn’t ever be brought up again. Master’s neck, the red stuff, the laughing. I shook my head around like a mad dog, trying to remove the weight on me.

  It only went away when I heard a loud scream from outside. I checked to see what the commotion was about, and the sight made me jump. A dog—way bigger than anything I saw on TV or those food bags pics—stood over a people in a skeleton costume. It must’ve been like fifty chihuahuas tall!

  Now that’s what I call a tough animal. So why was it letting that woman ride its back like that? Like one of those horse riders. Maybe it was a pet like me. But you probably needed to be just as tough to keep a giant dog as your pet. And judging by her spiked bat, black clothes, and white mask, she had to mean business.

  The woman pointed her bat at the skeleton person. “Shut the fuck up, will ya!?”

  Woah. What’s a ‘fuck’? Never heard that word before. And with the way she had that dude shaking, it must’ve been pretty bad.

  “Don’t you remember what Jason said after that big fight a few days ago!?” the skeleton person asked. “There didn’t have to be any more mindless violence! Besides, I filled my quota for the day!”

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  There were a few things in his words I didn’t understand, but 'quota' wasn’t one of them. From what I’d heard listening to the people outside, it was basically something they did every day, or else they’d be punished. I remembered when someone came into my shop saying 'trick or treat.' Since that wasn’t a phrase my master had taught me, I just gave him dog treats so they’d leave.

  If the skeleton person filled his quota, then why was the woman so angry at them?

  “You’re right. He did say that,” the woman said. “There didn’t have to be, but that doesn’t mean ‘don’t do it at all’. And since you carelessly stepped on my precious dog’s foot, I’m thinking a punishment is in order. How about… one of your legs?”

  One of their legs? What did she mean by that…? Her pet had some crazy saliva coming out of his mouth, and it all spilled onto him. That dog was hungry. But we weren’t supposed to eat peoples! Sure, a lot of them could be mean, but there were tons of good ones out there.

  My legs began to shake as I bared my teeth. I didn’t know if fear or anger was controlling my body at that moment, but I knew something had to be done. That man needed a hero!

  I tackled the door with all my might, forcing it wide open. All three of them turned their heads, causing me to bark even louder. That bad woman and her giant pet needed to know I meant business.

  “Oh shit! It’s the ugly mutt!” the woman laughed, climbing down her dog. “The hell are you barking about now?”

  If only peoples could understand dog talk, then maybe she’d understand how wrong her actions were, and how much she was scaring that person. But I couldn’t let that be a crutch. These little eyes of mine needed to convey every word.

  Once the woman got closer, she crouched down. “You know, I always found it amusing how confident some of you animals are. But what I find even funnier is how much that confidence dies once something stronger comes into play.”

  The ground began to shake. Her pet’s heavy paws slammed against the Earth, the street seeming too weak to hold its weight. Its eyes, those black eyes glared down at me. It didn’t have any feelings behind it. Its breathing was slow, almost patient, as though it had been waiting just for me. My throat went dry.

  That wasn’t a pet—it was a monster.

  I froze. The barking stopped, and my snarl vanished. This was way beyond what a little chihuahua could handle.

  Before I could even think of retreating, the monster sent me flying. My back slammed into a street pole, pain cracking through my body. I landed with a thud, the crushing weight from before pressing down on my head again.

  Failing to do what my heart was set on hurt—but accepting that failure while my legs still worked, while my determination still burned, while I was still alive, hurt me even more.

  Seeing the monster approach the skeleton man got my legs moving again. And every time the monster slapped me away, I’d get back up and keep the fight alive.

  Eventually, that same warm, red liquid that came out of Master that day was coming out of me now. I was tired, hungry, and could really use a long nap. But if my eyes closed now on this cold street, I was sure they’d never open again.

  Just when the monster’s paw was about to press on me, the woman held her hand out to it. Was she giving up? Was my toughness finally getting to her?

  “I thought you were just a dumb dog, but it looks like you’ve got some actual thoughts behind that ugly face.” She picked me up by my neck, and turned to Master’s pet shop. “You live in that shithole, right? How would you feel if I took it away from you?”

  With the thought of losing everything I loved filling my mind, I continued fighting. Shaking, thrashing, biting at anything, even the air. Master left me behind. The shop couldn’t leave too.

  Despite everything, my efforts were met with a kick to the gut, sending me crashing to the shop’s entrance. The fight couldn’t just end here. It didn’t matter how much my body cried, or screamed at me to stay down. That skeleton person needed to be saved. Master’s pet store—our treasure—had to stay alive.

  I pressed my paws against the concrete, and clawed towards the doors. My movements were stopped when a boot mercilessly stomped down on my head.

  The woman bent down and showed me a small, purple tube with water in it. “Keep your eyes peeled for the light show.”

  She talked as though someone just told a joke. What I found funny was that she thought that little object would actually bring down the shop. Then she pressed a button. My mouth opened in shock. The harmless-looking tube hissed, and in the blink of an eye, fire erupted out of nowhere.

  I knew silence was the better option. The barks came out anyway. My worst fears were coming true, and I was too weak to do anything about it. I couldn’t stop her from walking inside the shop with that fire. I couldn’t stop the shaking as the monster drew closer to me.

  I couldn’t do anything. And the moment the flames grew and grabbed a hold of everything I held dear, I knew that statement was true.

  I’m sorry, brown dog on the TV. The only scaredy cat was me.

  I’m sorry, Master. I broke our promise.

  I didn’t want to die. Dying was too scary. Master, was this how you felt when that masked man cut you?

  “Wow! Look at that baby burn!” the woman shouted, clapping. “Now, I think it’s time my dog hand a snac-”

  “Get off the dog.”

  My ears twitched. Someone else was here. No, that was bad… They’ll get hurt by the fire too. My goal was to get the person to leave somehow, but that plan was cancelled the second I saw their appearance.

  It was a costume I’d never seen here before. A skeleton with this thick, green stuff all around his body. It looked way too real to be a costume. He reminded me of a zombie, but zombies couldn’t talk, right? Not to mention, the guy was tall, and had muscles like those big people in the cartoons.

  Who was he? What was he?

  “This ain’t none of your business,” the woman said, while the monster approached the zombie man. “Run along before you get hurt.”

  The zombie man looked at the burning shop, and then stared at me. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner.”

  “That’s it! Dog, sick him!”

  I forced myself up, everything inside burning, but before I could steady my stance, the monster’s shadow loomed over the zombie man. It opened its mouth, rows of teeth gleaming, ready to snap him clean in half.

  But instead of retreating, the zombie man cocked his fist back, and with a sickening crack, he launched the beast into the sky. The impact shook the ground, leaving me and the woman stunned in silence.

  The woman stepped back, gasping for air. “That isn’t a costume? You got fucking superpowers!?”

  The zombie man didn’t say a word. Instead, he followed her, his fists still tightened.

  “W-W-Wait, hold on! I’m sorry! I didn’t even kill anyone, man!”

  “Yes, you did,” the zombie guy said calmly, his voice deep. “You burned this dog’s building, and killed the one he obviously cared about so deeply.”

  “Ok, I’m sorry! I apologize for what I-”

  “There’s no need to apologize. You can’t fix what already happened.”

  I blinked, and the woman‘s face was already planted on the ground—all thanks to the zombie man’s fist. Without another word, he stepped forward and leapt straight into the fire. I held my breath, waiting, eager to see what he’d do next. When he finally emerged, he had something in his hands.

  “I’m sorry, boy,” the man said, crouching down.

  To my surprise, he placed the photo of me and my master in front of me. How did it survive? How did he survive? So many questions were running through my brain, but I couldn’t ask them.

  “That asshole fucked up everything except for this picture.” He patted my head. “That’s your owner, right? Velma, right? That’s the name on her name tag there. I guess she was working at Burger King before this all started, huh?”

  Velma? Master’s name was Velma? Now that I thought about it, one of the characters in that cartoon we watched had that name too.

  “You fought like a real warrior here, boy. Now you’re what I call a tough dog.”

  Tough… dog? Me? No way. I lost. I couldn’t do any-

  “I’m sure Velma would be proud of you.”

  Those words brought a pause to my thoughts as something spilled out of my eyes. It made my fur wet, and I didn’t feel good, but I did at the same time.

  At that moment, a new sound came out of my mouth. It wasn’t a bark, or a growl, or even a moan. I threw my head back and screamed into the air, and only then did I realize that this was crying.

  Thank you! Thank you, Zombie Man!