Dad said, “Hey Abraham, wake up..” Abraham, Dad’s 27 year old at-home, deadbeat, punk son, roused from his sleep that extended late into the afternoon. “Your Mom is going into labor, I have to take her to the hospital, Ok?”, smiled Dad cheekily. Abraham’s eyes looked like rolling dice.
“What?!?”, Abraham exclaimed, “I didn’t even know she was pregnant!” Dad slid his hand over the teething rail of Abraham’s “bed.”
“I remember when I built this crib for you; you were such a cute baby..” Dad cooed. It was true that Abraham still slept in his infantile crib even though he was way too big for it- a fact that he hid and would fly into a murderous rage about.
“Fuck you, old man!” howled the ungrateful scion and he flung an empty handle of grain alcohol at his parent. Dad closed the door and the bottle shattered down its painted oak, which was painted with acrylic stencilings of little teddy bears, pulling wagons carrying other little teddy bears that were holding balloons. Abraham’s mom, Mom, had spent three days in preparation for Abraham’s own birth, stenciling those bears all around the now-tub o’ failure’s bedroom.
When Abraham made it to the hospital five hours later the baby was already out. Abraham entered the delivery room with a tray of hospital cafeteria food for no one but himself. “So what the fuck’s with this fuckin baby fuck?” Abraham bellowed in an inappropriately loud volume. A paraplegic veteran passing in a wheelie-chair shushed him. “Oh, fuck off, grampy!” said Abe and he threw his tapioca pudding at him. After they both scuffled in the hallway for a bit, Abraham came back in with two black eyes and a medal of dishonor, and his parents were more than eager to have him meet the new baby.
“It’s a beautiful baby girl..” said Mom and she turned the swaddled babe’s face towards Abraham’s. “What fuck the fuckin shit-fuck!?!” Abe declared and he reeled back knocking over some machines that were keeping someone alive in another hospital bed. What Abraham beheld was an infant German Shepherd wrapped in swaddling clothes.
The young bitch had a black to tan to silver-crème colored coat, with an adorable small black mask and medium black blanket. From the look of it, she had strong withers and pasterns, and, to everyone’s good fortune, she did not exhibit the extreme sloping topline. “Ho-How is this possible?” cried Abraham in a writhe of horror.
“She’s just our little miracle” said Mom and Dad simultaneously and then they laughed like Dr. Frankenstein.
“So.. she’s my sister?” cried Abraham as he pulled himself up from the sterile floor with someone’s chemotherapy tubes, “I didn’t know one could have interspecies siblings.” Both Mom and Dad shook their heads and then there was a loud flash of bright light.
“Oh, she’s not your sister, she’s your daughter!” said The President entering out of some time portal that had recently opened.
“Glad you’re here, Mr. President.” said Dad, “Would you mind breaking the news to young Abraham?”
The President nodded and then said “Abraham, you’re one lazy kid. Now I know that young Americans like you are also lazy, but you all need to learn some responsibility to keep America into the future for your children and your children’s children’s children’s children, got it?” Abraham nodded his head and started wetting his pants from all the surprise and stimulation. “That’s why..” the president continued, “I have made the executive decision to implement an experimental program that will teach young Americans, like yourself, some responsibility that will edify you into the future. I call it Surrogate Responsibility Dog-Childs Act, and I am happy to inform you that you’re the guinea pig, and, I do mean pig, we will test this program on. How it’s going to work is that this dog-child humanoid will be your dog, but you will also be legally bound to it like a parent is to their child. Your mom volunteered to be the surrogate mother of the dog-child so it even has some of your genes too. We hope that by having you care for this dog-child as if it were your daughter you will become a better person, but we’re also skeptical because you tested, unbeknownst to you, as the single most lazy, back-handed, scumbag, worthless heap in America. So through genetic engineering we have fabricated the dog-child with sensors that will monitor exactly how much more responsible you are becoming, and, most importantly, you are going to stay. The deal you are forced to make now is that once you reach a certain threshold of responsibility, and, will stay that way, the dog-child will sense this and evaporate.” Abraham passed out after hearing these words.
When Abraham awoke he was sitting in a room with the German Shepherd dog-child who had now aged to a toddler’s age. The dog-child was wearing a pink dress and could now stand on its two legs upright. “Well, looks like I have no choice..” Abe lamented to only himself. The dog-child just stared at Abraham without any discernable emotion. The misspent young man was kind of put off by this, but for once, in a long while, as it seemed to Abe, the dog-child stared with no disappointment, no malice and completely without contempt. “I guess I’ll have to give you a name too, dog-child” Abe said as he looked around the room for inspiration. “How about, Tequila or Quila for short?” Abe asked expecting no answer.
“Sessy Ressy Res!” Quila yipped in reply. Abe was so shocked by the dog-child’s comical language that he shit his bed. And that was that, the union of Abraham and Quila the dog-child had begun.
The unlikely and never-before-seen pair spent quite a lot of time together in the coming weeks. They would go the park every morning where Quila would throw a Frisbee into the lake and Abraham would retrieve, and get covered in leaches. They would eat raw meat scraps out of the butcher’s dumpster at noon and Abe had never felt more sickly, but also never more alive. One day some millennial punkers were taking pictures of Quila with their iPhones whilst mocking her. Abe had never taken so much joy in curb-stomping every single last one of them. “This is what responsibility must feel like” Abe said as he watched the shattered incisors, molars and canine’s land at his Canine’s pasterns. Abe had stopped wetting himself at all the emotional stimulation he was having and soon he grew accustom to a better, more responsible way of living.
After the accustoming, there was a knock on Abe’s bedroom door. He and Quila had just finished playing a game of checkers with hamburger-flavored doggy snacks as the pieces. “DCFS!” roared a loud voice from behind the door with the second knocking. A lion robot busted through Abe’s door, blowing it to smithereens.
“Hey, I was using that door for breaking bottles, you-” Abe cried, but was interrupted with him wetting himself at the sight of the terrifying lion. “Step aside said the robo-lion social worker and it pulled out a space-age device and pointed it at Quila. A green beam shot out of the device’s pointer and scanned Quila. “What are you doing, you psycho-cyborg?!?” yelped Abe.
“Rit’s rokay, Rabe! Rhis robo-rion ris rollecting ra ratus report.” yipped Quila. The lion analyzed the scan’s feedback on the device’s screen.
“Well, Mr. Abraham, you’ve been doing surprisingly well. Who knew you had it in you.” growled the queen of the robot jungle, “My estimation is you should reach the optimum responsibility threshold by next Friday.
“Fuckin Awesome!” said Abe and then he realized what that meant as he looked down at Quila who started whimpering with the most tragic puppy dog-child eyes. Abe wet himself. “Clean yourself up” said Robo-Lion, “It’s almost over..”
That night Abraham had a horrible dream. Quila and her new-found mortality had really worked her way into his subconscious. Abe dreamt that he was a drunken judge at the pulpit wearing a powdered wig and he was ordering a line of Quilas to be run over by a pickup truck. One by one the Quilas disappeared under the wheels and came out as guts and viscera. The blood from the carnage was pumped through a tube to Abraham’s mouth with which he drank gluttonously from. Abe snapped awake with such force that he threw his lower back out. The pain seemed to lessen when he noticed Quila peacefully curled up on the floor, fast asleep. “What am I going to do? What am I going to do?” bemoaned Abe, and he started to cry.
Abraham decided that he would make the last week of Quila’s life the best last week ever. He gave her a full life time in a week with events like schooling, prom, dating boys (or in her case, scooping at the kennel), paying student loans, vocations and picking a retirement plan. On Friday, Quila looked like she had lived and now was aged to a grandmother dog-child-meemaw even though she had had no kids of her own. “Rank rou, Rabrarham!” said Quila as her head droopily floated to the pillow.
“Ri reel rhe revaporation rocess rarting..” Quila sighed.
“No! There must be some way to bypass it!” Abe cried as he shook his daughter who started to deteriorate, “Fight it!”
Abraham was then struck with an idea with such force that it launched him through the door he had just repaired. “I got it!” Abe said as he grabbed one of the many bottles of grain alcohol that were scattered around his room. “We need to keep you constantly hydrated so you don’t evaporate!” Abe non-eulogized as triumphant tears streamed down his face.
“Rith Ralcohol?” Quila said skeptically pointing at the bottle with a half-evaporated pastern.
“Yes!” Abe said rolling his dice eyes, “The President said you have my genes so this is, quite literally, mother’s milk!” Abraham had poured half the bottle of Rye down Quila’s muzzle, and it took. Quila started to reform. “Ri reel rexcellent!” said Quila as she smashed the empty bottle over Abraham’s head.
And that was that, Abe fed the monster in himself and the one that was going to evaporate Quila with so much alcohol on a constant basis that it kept her and him alive until the following year where they both perished of liver failure in Abraham’s Mom and Dad’s basement. Mom and Dad weren’t too happy about that, but at least they taught Abraham a little responsibility for once.