Lawyers: Our client does not own Scrubs or Dead Like Me, nor is she gaining any profit by writing this story. Don't sue her.
Chapter 11
There didn't seem to be any improvements in any of my patients throughout the rest of the day. Everyone was still feverish and delirious with their coughing and vomiting. Dr. Cox seemed to keep a level head though, despite his persistent fever. He was lucid enough to tell me that if I checked up on him one more time that day, he would stab me in the eye with his IV and squeeze the fluid bag it was attached to until my eye popped like a water balloon.
Isn't he just a freakin' ray of sunshine when bed-ridden?
I managed to escape the room with both eyes intact and finish up my shift for the day. Carla and Turk were finishing their own shifts at pretty much the same time and because none of us really felt like cooking (and we didn't want to rely on Dan for meals), they agreed to stop and pick up some dinner on the way home. While they were busy doing this, I grabbed a copy of today's newspaper and headed home on Sasha.
Having forgotten about Dan's scheme, when I walked into the apartment with the newspaper folded up under one arm, I was completely unprepared for whatever it was that I tripped over. Of all the places in the apartment to leave a large bag (was that dog food?), Dan leaves it right in front of the door way. I think he knew I was coming in and put it there on purpose.
"Dog food, Dan?" I asked as I pushed myself up onto my knees and glanced back at the large bag of, yup, dog food, or more specifically, Purina Puppy Chow.
"Johnny, you're home. Good," Dan said as he walked out of my room with a rawhide bone in hand and closed the bedroom door behind himself. "Do me a favor, move that bag before someone hurts themselves tripping over it."
"You mean like I did?" I asked irritably as I tossed the newspaper over onto the coffee table.
"I don't know why you're complaining, you can't get hurt," Dan pointed out.
Shoving the bag to one side of the door, I said, "Dan, not that I don't love that you've bonded with Rowdy and showered him with gifts, but," I paused for a moment to gaze around at all the dog stuff scattered about the room, "don't you think this is overkill?"
"This stuff isn't for Rowdy," Dan said as he tossed the bone on the couch before turning back to my room. He opened the door dramatically, then got down on his knees and, smacking his legs a few times, he gushed, "C'mere boy!"
I'm surprised that I was actually surprised when a furry black and tannish-brown form bolted out of my bedroom and straight into Dan's waiting arms. You'd think by now I'd be used to any impulsive decision that Dan makes or ever will make.
"You got a puppy?" I asked incredulously.
"I got you a puppy," he said cheerfully as he stood up with the puppy in his arms. "Isn't he adorable!"
The little puppy wagged his tail wildly and showered Dan with slobbery kisses. I could tell right away that he was a German Shepherd. His fur had more black to it than it did brown, his paws looked too big for his body and his ears were still flopped forward as a sign of just how young he was. All in all, he was very adorable. Still though, I couldn't let that cloud my judgment.
"Dan, I can't keep that dog," I sighed. "This apartment has a 'no pets' rule and it was hard enough convincing the landlord to let us have Rowdy. If he finds out we got a live dog, he'll flip!"
"Then don't tell him you have a dog," Dan explained as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"It doesn't work like that," I said, exasperated. "Dogs need to be taken outside on walks and to use the bathroom, and they can be noisy. Someone's going to notice."
"Then move. You have that half-acre, so put a house on it," Dan said simply.
"I'm still paying off loans, there's no way I could afford a house," I said. "You're going to have to bring him back."
Looking down at the puppy and then back up at me, Dan seemed to consider what I just said, before he pushed the puppy into my arms and cooed, "How can you say 'No' to this face?"
Apparently wanting to emphasize Dan's point, the puppy wagged his tail and licked my face as if I were a popsicle and it was a hot summer day. I grimaced at the slobber and adjusted my hold on the puppy so that he was facing forward, but that still didn't stop him from reaching his furry little head back and licking my chin.
"You see? Rin-Tin-Tin is too cute for words," Dan said.
"Rin-Tin-Tin?" I asked as I gently set the puppy down on the ground where he raced off to go grab a toy.
"I thought you'd bond better if he had a name," Dan explained.
"You're not naming the dog Rin-Tin-Tin," I said.
"Fine, you name him," Dan said, reasoning with me.
"No, I mean, you're not naming the dog because we're not keeping the dog," I said. "I don't have time to train and take care of a dog."
"I'll take care of him when you're busy!" Dan exclaimed. "Besides, this is my gift to you. It would be rude of you not to accept it."
"This isn't just some DVD, Dan, this is a living, breathing creature that needs lots of attention; attention I can't give it," I pointed out.
The puppy came racing back over to me, dragging a stuffed animal (a goose, I think) that was way too big for him. He shifted his weight from paw to paw, his tail wagging a mile a minute, and lifted the toy up as much as he could to show it off to me. He shook the bird by its neck before dropping it onto my feet, his eyes begging me to play with him. Dan was right about one thing, this puppy had a face that I couldn't say no to. As I grabbed the toy off of the ground, the puppy stepped back a few paces, attempting to judge how far I could throw. Apparently he didn't think too much of my athletic abilities. I tossed the goose in a random direction and he went bolting after it.
"See, you're a natural at this," Dan said, smiling.
I rolled my eyes. Dan didn't seem to get it. Anyone could play with a puppy, and it's not like I don't know how to take care of a dog. I just don't have enough time to when I have to deal with this whole plague epidemic, as both a reaper and a doctor. There just aren't enough hours in the day to deal with all that plus a new puppy. That's like having three full time jobs and despite what one may think, the undead need to sleep too.
It was at this point that Carla and Turk got back from their fast food quest. Carla came in first carrying her purse and the keys to the apartment, and Turk was right behind her carry a couple large bags of what smelled like Chinese food. Carla was the first one to notice all of the dog paraphernalia scattered about the apartment due to the fact that Turk was too busy piling the bags of fast food onto the kitchen table.
"What's with all the dog stuff?" Carla asked suspiciously as she closed the front door before walking into the kitchen and setting her purse down on the counter, all the while she gazed around at the dog things that were invading the apartment.
As if to answer her question, the puppy, who had heard someone new entering the apartment, came running out from wherever it was he had been hiding with the toy goose once again being carried in his mouth.
"You got a dog?" she asked with wide eyes as she looked from Dan to me, as if asking who she could blame for this.
Having heard the word 'dog', Turk paused in his job of getting all of the fast food out of the bags and setting them up on the counter so he could see what had gotten Carla all flustered that had to do with a dog. Immediately upon seeing said dog, Turk shrieked, "We got a puppy?" then proceeded to do the 'we got a puppy' dance which was very similar to the 'we got a dog' dance that he did when we had bought Rowdy all those years back.
The puppy must have liked his dancing because he dropped his toy and bounded over to Turk and seemed to, in a way, join Turk in the 'we got a puppy' dance because he began jumping up and down around Turk's feet while yipping happily in a high tone that I knew would one day become a low, booming bark.
I almost melted right there.
Carla seemed to soften a bit too at the scene, however, never one to be diverted from a major issue, she said, "We can't have a dog in this apartment. There's a 'no pets' policy."
That fact brought Turk back down to earth and ceased his dancing, although the puppy continued jumping around like a hyperactive child on a sugar high.
"His name is Rin-Tin-Tin," Dan began.
"No," I interrupted with a sigh.
"Charlie?" Dan asked.
"No," I shook my head. It doesn't matter what he names the dog, I knew there was no way we could keep him, and because of that fact, I didn't want to get attached.
"Well, whatever his name will be, I got him as a gift for you all," Dan explained.
I thought he said the puppy was a gift for me... Wait, why am I even wondering this? We can't keep him!
"He'll be the perfect family dog," Dan said, as if that would change our minds about keeping the puppy.
"He's gonna have to be the perfect family dog for someone else because he can't stay here," Carla said in a 'this discussion is over' tone. "There's a baby on the way, Dan, and there's no way that we're having a hyperactive pooch bouncing off the walls with a new baby in the house.
With a look of defeat on his face, Dan said, "At least keep him until I find him another home."
Carla pause to think about his proposition for a moment before she consented with a sigh, "Fine, but you're taking him to the hotel you'll be getting two days from now."
"You drive a hard bargain, Carla," Dan said, "but I accept your terms."
"Good," Carla said seriously, then smiled cheerfully and asked, "Who wants Chinese food?"
Creepy pregnancy mood-swings.
The rest of the night went well, or as well as a night could go with a new puppy in the house that had more energy than everyone at Sacred Heart combined. (Play! Play! Play! Ball! Ball! Throw the ball! Bone! Bone! My bone! Mine!) Plus, there's the fact that he wasn't exactly trained to go outdoors yet. Thankfully I had that newspaper to put down, though that was after I cut out all the necessary obituaries. Aside from all that, everything was going pretty well (Turk and I were relieved to see that Rowdy didn't seem to mind the puppy, probably because he knew the puppy wasn't staying).
Then it came time to go to bed...
Dan didn't get a crate, but he did manage to get a gate, so we put the puppy in the kitchen for the night so he wouldn't be wandering around while we slept and getting into who-knows-what. I had once again been forced out onto the couch by Dan, and was just beginning to get settled in with my pillow and blanket. The lights were all off, the door was locked, it was nice and quiet, and I was just beginning to drift off.
Then the whining started.
It was low and quiet at first, as if he was trying to be respectfully quiet, but still wanted to get someone's attention. That went on for a couple of minutes before he realized that no one was going to come if he didn't speak up. So his quiet whimpers turned into a loud, dragged out whine. I groaned irritably and hissed at him to be quite.
That worked for about a second before he went right back to his whining, except now he added a bark to the end of each whine.
"If someone doesn't shut that dog up right now, I swear...!" Carla snapped, leaving the threat hanging for our imaginations to run wild with.
A brief image of her sending us all straight to the pound flashed through my mind, and it wasn't one of the nice pounds either.
"You're the one who brought him, Dan!" I shouted into my room.
"You're closer," he called back.
"You said you'd help take care of him," I reminded him.
The puppy continued to cry.
"Only when you're busy, and you're not busy now!" Dan said.
I'm busy trying to sleep, but apparently that means nothing to him.
"Both of you shut up and take care of the dog!" Carla raged.
Either Turk was asleep or was wisely staying out of the whole thing.
With an audible groan of annoyance, I got up from the couch and dragged myself over to the kitchen. I plopped down in front of the gate where the puppy was currently sitting and staring up at me with those big eyes, whimpering to be let out of the kitchen. However, if I let him out now, I knew that he'd get the idea that if he whined enough, he'd get his way. So I wrapped my arms around my legs, set my head on my knees, I whispered to him soothingly.
"It's okay, you're alright. Shhh... You're alright. You're alright..."
He ceased his cries, but continued to sit there staring at me.
"You got to go to bed," I whispered. "Go to bed. Go to bed."
I repeated this over and over to him with drooping eyes, and then pretended that I had actually fallen asleep myself, sitting right there like that. It seemed to do the trick because as soon as I hid my face in my knees, I could hear him shuffling around, and when I cautiously cracked one eye open, I saw that he had laid down and had his eyes closed.
As carefully as I could, I got to my feet and tip-toed back to the couch. Unfortunately, on my way there, I stepped on a loose board and a creak that sounded deafening to my ears echoed in the room. I froze completely, my back stiff, as I waited to see if that had woken him up. Just when I was thinking I was home free, I heard him whine once again.
"Damn," I muttered as I walked back over to the front gate and sat down.
It was going to be a long night.
I had fallen asleep like that, curled up in front of the gate. I was so stiff by morning that it took a full hour for reaper metabolism to kick in and heal my aching muscles. Before I started to get ready for work, I discretely took the puppy out a back door of the apartment to try and teach him to go outside rather than on the paper, but he didn't seem to understand the concept. Once that was out of the way, I went through my usual morning process, though quietly this time because Carla and Turk didn't have to be at work until a little later on.
Just before I could leave the apartment, Dan popped out of my room just long enough to hand me some post-its. There were four of them:
D. J. Cimarron
R. I. Reigns
G. L. Dame
B. T. Drenelli
Their times were practically one right after the other, starting with D. J. Cimarron at 8:23. I hurried out the door to get there in time.
Based on how people react when they find out that they've died, I could easily organize them into several different categories. Yesterday, the categories my reaps fell into were 'Blissfully Unaware', 'Completely in Denial', and last but not least, 'Easy-Going Acceptance.'
The easy-going one has to be one of my favorite categories. It's usually the older people who fall into that category. You know, the ones who feel they've gotten all they can out of life and have no problems with dieing at that point. Of course, as Shawn proved yesterday, there are some younger people who fall into that category, but those people are usually easy-going to begin with.
All four of my reaps fell into that category today. It was nice, sort of like a day off from the whole thing. Three of my reaps were women in their seventies and eighties, which would explain why there were still people dieing despite the cure. The elderly tend to not make it past epidemics like these. My fourth reap, however, was just plain unlucky.
Dean John Cimarron.
He was in his twenties, and while he seemed pretty okay with being dead, I still had to ask him, "How are you holding up, Dean?"
Dean gazed over at the three elderly women who were laughing and gossiping about anything that came to mind as if they were all old friends, and said, "To be perfectly honest, Death, I'm feeling a little out of place in this crowd. 'Awkward' would be the word to use."
All three women looked over at Dean and I before one of them said something and the other two laughed and nodded at whatever she said. Dean flashed them a winning smile that I could tell was forced, and the women laughed again and waved at us. We waved back, a bit awkwardly, and they laughed one more time before they went back to talking.
"What I meant was: How are you holding up with being dead?" I explained.
"Oh," Dean said, then smiled a real smile this time. "Really, Death, this is a dream come true. My mom died in a fire, my dad died of a heart attack, and my little brother was quite literally stabbed in the back by a mugger. I'm the last one left in my family, so I say bring on the bright lights!"
"It's such a shame that a handsome thing like you had to die at such a young age," one of the elderly women said as she and her two new buddies came over to join us in the conversation.
"I have a granddaughter that you would've been perfect for," commented one of the other elderly women.
"I'm sure I would've loved to meet her," Dean said, smiling that perfect smile again. He must have brushed a lot when he was alive because his smile was like something you'd see in a toothpaste commercial.
That's when a glowing 1967 Chevrolet Impala pulled up into the lounge we were standing in, passing straight through any walls that got in its way.
Yeah, that's right, I know a little something about cars. I was around when they first started being popular, after all. Don't underestimate me!
"Well, ladies, I would love to stay and chat, but that's my ride," Dean said, pointing behind him at the impala.
"Bye, Dean!"
"Say 'Hi' to your family for us! They sound so nice."
"Maybe we'll see you in the afterlife sometime!"
Dean smiled and waved at us before climbing in the impala and closing the door. The car drove off, straight through one of the walls and disappeared.
"What a nice boy."
"He had such a charming smile."
"Lord, he had a fine tush on him!"
They all burst into laughter.
Awkward was definitely the word for it.
"Why don't I walk you ladies to the door?"
End of Chapter 11. I actually cut chapter 11 in half because it was getting a little lengthy and I still wasn't finished writing it. Plus, I figured you've all waited long enough for an update.
The reason why it's taken me so long to get this out is because I've recently started college and the work load is just unbelievable. I mean, I knew it'd be tough, but I didn't think I'd be spending 6 or 7 hours on homework alone and not even be finished with it!
So because school comes first, it'll take awhile for me to get chapters out. Please be patient. Oh, and on a side note for those of you who didn't notice, Dean Cimarron is basically Dean Winchester. Which reminds me, I don't own Supernatural.
Review please!