One day, Fred decides to go to the store.
"I need some milk," he told his dog, Susan. Susan did not reply. She never did.
Fred and Susan got out of the car at Milk-O-Rama, the store for milk. They had the best commercials and Fred was a consumer whore, so that's where they went. Susan's claws clicked against the polished linoleum as they walked around the aisles. They passed a TV showing "Jaws" and Susan whimpered.
"Shut up," said Fred, "you are such a sissy dog. I should've gotten a cat."
Susan whimpered as though she understood him and Fred shook his head.
"We're supposed to get milk, Susan," he said, and he led her off.
As it turned out, all the milk in the store was bad because of the recent power outage/zombie holocaust. Fred and Susan went home with no milk.
"It's okay, Susan," said Fred, "it could have been worse. We could have been eaten by zombies, or even sharks."
Susan panted out the window. Suddenly, Fred noticed a ticking noise from under the hood of the car.
"Holy balls!" he said, and pulled off to the side of the road. He walked forward around to the hood (this is an awful sentence) and kicked the car three or four times, then spat on it.
"That should do it," said Fred, and jumped back into the car.
Fred and Susan drove the rest of the way home without incident. Fred parked the car and let Susan out, then they walked past all Susan's toys on the lawn and went inside. Jaws was on TV, so Fred turned it off.
"Let's go play badminton," said Fred suddenly. Susan stared at him and Fred looked at her curiously.
"Oh!" he said, understanding, "You are a dog. Well, that's okay, I didn't like badminton much, anyway. Let's do something else. It's not like we have any milk."
So Fred and Susan played fetch outside instead. This was a much better idea, since Fred did not own any of the equipment to play badminton anyway. Susan got tired and stopped fetching the ball, so Fred took her back inside and exploded.
The end.