3

by Nick Pirog

  Shelly gasps, then races up to him and begins petting him.

  She sets down her stuffed elephant and I see Murdock eyeing it.

  “Don’t even think about it,” I say.

  To his credit, he doesn’t grab it and rip it into confetti.

  Murdock licks Shelly’s face.

  She giggles.

  “Can you keep a secret?” I ask Shelly.

  She pets — more of a pat, actually — Murdock’s head and nods.

  “Can you not tell anyone about me or the doggy?”

  She looks up at the ceiling, unsure.

  I add, “You can tell people tomorrow, just not now.”

  “What about Brook?”

  Brook must be her BFF.

  “You can tell Brook first thing tomorrow when you wake up?”

  She thinks about it, then agrees. “Okay, I think I can do that.”

  And I think that is the best I could hope to get out of her.

  “Okay, give him one last pet, then we have to get you back to the sleepover.”

  She pats Murdock a few more times, then leans down and gives him a hug.

  Murdock licks her face again.

  She stands up and grabs her elephant off the ground.

  Murdock’s eyes track the elephant. Right now, it is his world.

  I shake my head.

  “Okay,” I say to Shelly. “I’m gonna watch you walk to the gym.”

  She smiles, “Bye, Jason’s dad.”

  “Bye, Shelly.”

  “Right when I wake up, I’m telling Brook.”

  “That’s fine,” I tell her, then give her head a little squeeze.

  She runs the sixty feet to the gym and opens the door.

  Murdock stands up, then turns around and goes back into the cafeteria.

  “Murdock!” I hiss, then follow him through the opening.

  I expect him to jump back on the tables, but he doesn’t. He walks the length of the cafeteria, then heads out a second exit. An exit that is twenty feet from the gymnasium doors.

  I sprint after him, then exit into the hall.

  Murdock is sniffing at the gym doors. One of the doors is open an inch. Shelly didn’t close it entirely.

  No, no, no, no, no, no.

  I cup my hands and whisper, “Murdock!”

  Please, don’t.

  “Murdock!”

  But there is no stopping him. He wants that elephant.

  Murdock noses the door open, then slips through.

  Uh-oh.

  I lean against the wall and let out the longest sigh of my life.

  “What are you doing?”

  I turn around.

  It’s my dad.

  I push him into the cafeteria and into the far corner.

  “What’s going on?” my dad asks, pulling off his Sullivan mask.

  I show him the flyer and tell him about the sleepover.

  He points to the gym and says, “This is happening right now, in there?”

  I nod, then say, “It gets worse.”

  I tell him about Murdock.

  My dad’s eyebrows nearly jump off his forehead. “He’s in there? With all those kids?”

  I nod.

  “Holy crap!”

  This is the closest my dad ever came to cursing.

  “What are we gonna do?” my dad asks.

  “I don’t know.”

  I imagine Murdock sniffing around the many little lumps, trying to catch the trail of the stuffed elephant. It’s only a matter of time—

  There is a loud scream.

  —until one of the kids wakes up.

  One scream becomes five screams.

  Five screams becomes ten screams.

  Ten screams becomes one hundred screams.

  We are so going to jail.

  “Where is Lassie?” I shout to my dad over what I imagine a Justin Bieber concert might sound like.

  My dad shakes his head. “He went off on his own to search for Billy.”

  That reminds me.

  I unzip the fanny pack and show my dad.

  “Billy!” my dad exclaims. “You found him.”

  The small celebration is interrupted by Murdock’s barking reverberating through the gymnasium. He is probably having the time of his life chasing around a bunch of little kids. He would think they are playing. He would have no idea he is inciting mass hysteria.

  There is a loud crash.

  The doors to the gym opening.

  Then a stampede of feet.

  I turn back to my dad and say, “You head for the back door and get to the car. I’ll grab Murdock and meet you outside.”

  “What about Lassie?”

  “He’ll be fine. He’ll find his way back.”

  My dad nods.

  “What about the parents?” my dad asks. “What if one of them stops me?”

  I hadn’t thought about that. Certainly there were several adult volunteers, plus some teachers.

  “Just tell them you are one of the kid’s parents,” I say, then appraise the man in the mock turtleneck with glasses and just a whiff of white hair left on his head. “Or, maybe one of their grandparents.”

  “Mask on or off?” my dad asks.

  “Unless you plan on telling the parents that you are here for a debate, I would ditch the mask.”

  He shoves Sullivan in his fanny pack.

  “Let’s go,” I say.

  We walk out into the hall.

  It is chaos.

  Little kids in pajamas running in every direction. Adults screaming at kids to calm down.

  I watch my dad speed walk through the masses, then out of sight.

  I turn around, just in time to see a little boy in dragon pajamas running right at me. I leap to the side, losing my footing, and fall to the ground. I catch myself with my hands, as not to flatten Billy and Rasmussen, then flip on my butt.

  I gaze down at the fanny pack to make sure the gerbils are okay.

  It’s empty.

  I forgot to zip it closed and the two gerbils must have gone flying out when I fell.

  I search the hallway. Ten feet away, zipping between the scattering children’s feet, I see them.

  But so do the children.

  A little girl in yellow pajamas yells, “A rat! No, two rats!!”

  Oh my God, rats!

  Gross!

  Ahhhhhhhhh!

  Run!

  Get outta my way!

  Then, the screaming doubles. But it isn’t because of the gerbils.

  I turn around.

  Murdock zips past me with the stuffed elephant in his mouth.

  A thousand simultaneous shrieks threaten to burst my eardrum.

  Three adults are in pursuit behind Murdock. They pass me and I’m hopeful that amid the chaos no one will notice the man who’s never attended a PTA meeting or a parent teacher conference.

  I join the chase.

  Murdock leads the three adults and me through a tour of the entire school. I don’t dare yell out his name, I don’t want anyone to know that I am familiar with the giant beast that crashed their kids’ school sleepover.

  Murdock leads us down the 4th grade corridor, then to the 3rd grade corridor, then he doubles back, breaking through the futile tackles by a couple of the adults.

  I am at the back of the pack and notice something out of the corner of my eye. Something green moving out of the shadow of a classroom and into the hall.

  A turtle.

  Now, how did he get out?

  A moment later, the answer bolts out of the classroom.

  Lassie.

  “Lassie!”

  He sees me, then dashes over.

  “What are you doing?” I ask. “Did you let him out of his cage?”

  Meow.

  “Ned? Okay, did you let Ned out of his cage?”

  Meow.

  “Why?”

  I expect him to say that no animal should have to live in a cage. He doesn’t.

  Meow.

  “
He is not a baby dragon. He is a turtle. And, if I remember correctly, I expressly told you that you could not have a dragon.”

  Meow.

  “A turtle is basically the exact opposite of a dragon.”

  Meow.

  “Does he look like he can fly?” I don’t have time for this. I tell him about the kids, Murdock, and how I found Billy, but then lost both Billy and Rasmussen.

  Meow.

  “No, this is not going according to plan.”

  I tell him what I need him to do.

  Meow.

  I look at the turtle. He’s gone two inches since I last saw him. “You want to take him with us? Are you crazy?”

  Meow.

  “He doesn’t breathe fire!”

  I look down at my watch.

  3:43 a.m.

  Thirteen minutes.

  “Fine.” I don’t have time to argue.

  I lean down and pick up Ned.

  Lassie nods, then scurries toward the main corridor.

  ::::

  When I reach the main hallway, I stop dead in my tracks.

  Half the kids and half the adults — I’m guessing the other half are in the gymnasium — are situated in a wide circle.

  In the center is Murdock.

  They have him surrounded.

  I join on the outskirts, just behind a group of three boys all holding hands.

  Murdock is lying down, whipping his head from side to side, in the process of murdering the stuffed elephant.

  The air fills with fluffs of white.

  One adult is slowly making his way towards Murdock. He is four steps away. Once he gets ahold of Murdock’s collar it’s over.

  Come on, Lassie.

  Come on.

  And then it happens.

  Lassie darts into the middle of the circle.

  Is that a cat?

  Where are all these animals coming from?

  Lassie dives at Murdock and smacks him in the face with his paw. Then he zips out as fast as he can.

  Murdock bounds after him, knocking his way through the circle.

  The doors to the gym are open and Lassie leads Murdock into the gym.

  The entire mass of kids and adults follows behind them, until it is just me left in the hallway.

  I feel something run up my leg and onto my shirt.

  I pull it off.

  It’s Billy.

  So there I am, in the middle of an elementary school holding a turtle in one hand and a gerbil in another.

  “Where is your brother?” I ask.

  Billy squeaks and twitches, but my interpreter is leading a game of chase in the gymnasium.

  At least that’s what I instructed Lassie to do.

  I put Billy in my fanny pack, then pull out my Obama mask and pull it over my head.

  I walk briskly to the front entrance, push through the doors, and kick down the door prop so it is wide open.

  Then I go back inside and I pull the fire alarm.

  ::::

  The fire alarm is the signal for Lassie and Murdock to make a break for the entrance. Hopefully, the parents will be so preoccupied with rounding up the kids, they won’t give chase.

  And since I broke so many laws already, I figured, why not.

  I run past the flag pole, then turn and look back behind me.

  The alarm blares from the building. Bright white lights blink from the interior.

  I run another thirty yards, then turn around again.

  No dog.

  No cat.

  Did they get caught?

  Lassie didn’t have any tags, but Murdock did. They would be able to trace him back to my dad.

  What then?

  I look down at my watch.

  3:50 a.m.

  Neighbors are going to start coming out of their houses soon.

  I wait thirty more seconds, then I turn and start running.

  Two steps later, I hear a loud crash and turn.

  Murdock.

  He smashed into the side of the door on his way out. He gallops towards me, his jowls bouncing in the moonlight.

  I wait a couple moments longer for Lassie, then I hear the approaching sirens.

  “Good luck,” I say to him somewhere.

  ::::

  It is 3:53 a.m. when the four of us, Billy, Murdock, Ned, and I, load into my dad’s Lincoln.

  “Is that a turtle?” my dad asks.

  “Yep.” To his credit, he doesn’t seem at all surprised.

  “Where’s Lassie?”

  “He’s still in there.”

  The words hurt as I say them.

  Sure Lassie could take care of himself, but you never know. They may have caught him. They might turn him over to animal control. They might say that he tried to harm a bunch of kids and put him down.

  I take a deep breath.

  I pull Billy out of my fanny pack and set him in the cup holder.

  My dad looks at the one gerbil then back up to me.

  “Where’s the other one?”

  I shake my head.

  “But the whole reason we did this— ”

  “I know,” I tell him. “I know.”

  Mission failure.

  ::::

  It is 3:57 a.m. when we return to my condo.

  I tell my dad to leave the door open for Lassie.

  He does.

  I grab a smoothie from the fridge and plop down on one of the dining room chairs. I’m emotionally spent. The last hour has felt like three days.

  My dad puts some food out for Murdock and Billy.

  “What does a turtle eat?” my dad asks, gazing down at Ned who is slowly making his way from one kitchen tile to the next.

  “Just give him some gerbil food,” I say.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Murdock standing over his bowl of food. I have never in my life seen him not devour his kibble, or anything edible for that matter, the moment it’s placed in front of him.

  “You okay, Murdock?” I ask.

  My dad peers down at him, his eyebrows furrowed.

  “What’s going on with you, buddy?” my dad asks.

  Murdock’s head lurches forward.

  He coughs.

  His mouth opens.

  And Rasmussen tumbles out.

  :06

  The bed is full.

  My dad is to my left, sleeping on Ingrid’s side of the bed. Squeezed between us, length-wise, is Murdock. His nose is inside my left ear. My dad sleeps on his stomach and Ned the turtle is sucked into his shell, asleep on my dad’s back. Billy is tucked under Murdock’s ear, using it as a blanket. Rasmussen — who after tumbling out of Murdock’s gullet, raced over to his brother and tackled him — is in my armpit again.

  And on my chest.

  Lassie.

  Thank God.

  I run my hand over his head.

  He bats his eyes open, does a big stretch, then gives me a couple licks on the nose.

  “Hey, Bisquick,” I say, chuckling. “What happened to you?”

  Meow.

  “You hid in one of the sleeping bags for two hours, then snuck out? Good thinking, buddy.”

  Meow.

  “Yeah, can you believe it? We actually accomplished our mission. Rescued Billy and none of us ended up in jail.”

  Meow.

  “Ocean’s Eight? But there are only seven of us.”

  Meow.

  “No, seven.” I count on my fingers. “Me, you, my dad, Murdock, Rasmussen, Billy, and Ned. That’s seven.”

  Meow.

  “Who is Tiffany?”

  Meow.

  I reach down with my hand and feel the form nestled into my ribcage. I lift my head slightly and look down.

  Tiffany.

  The possum.

  Tiffany, awakened by my sudden movement, glares at me with coal black eyes.

  She snarls.

  I reach down and run my hand over her coarse hair and rubbery tail. “Nice possum.”

  She relaxes, then closes her eye
s.

  Meow.

  “Yes, I suppose she would be Julia Roberts.”

  Meow.

  “Yes, she does seem wonderful.”

  Meow.

  “Yes, I’m sure Ingrid will just love her. Let me know how that introduction goes.”

  Meow.

  “No, she doesn’t have rabies.” Well, probably not.

  Meow.

  “Okay, go back to sleep.”

  Meow.

  “I love you too.”

  He curls back up on my chest and falls back asleep.

  I gaze around me and fight back a smile.

  I slip out from the bed, setting Lassie next to Tiffany, and make my way to the kitchen. I check in with Ingrid. She was just wrapping up her case and she would be over tomorrow. I told her I had a doozy of a story for her. She said I could tell her after. I told her I liked the sound of that. I grab a quick bite, suck down a smoothie and a couple glasses of water, then at 3:10 a.m., I slip back into the bed.

  Looking back on it, that fifty minutes, surrounded by all of God’s little creatures, listening to the seven unique sounds, was one of the best days of my life.

  I would think back on it often, during the tough times that would follow.

  ::::

  The next day, Murdock and my dad went back home. Ned went to live with Isabel, who treated him like a king. Billy and Rasmussen went back to live at the emergency vet, where according to my interpreter, two sister mice just escaped their cage.

  I never did see Tiffany again. Apparently, she wasn’t girlfriend material.

  As for us seven boys, we wouldn’t be together again.

  At least, not until my bachelor party.

  Author’s Note

  Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed this little romp half as much as I enjoyed writing it. Sitting down to write something like this is odd. I mean, I want it to be funny, but you can’t really plan for funny. You just have to put the characters in a room together and trust that they will do, or say, something funny. My two favorite parts would have to be 1) The very beginning, finding out the thing snuggled up next to him is actually a possum (I didn’t put this part in until later on and I just cracked up the whole time I was writing it.) 2) Coming up with Lassie’s nickname. Gosh, that was fun. I especially like the line, “Fidel? Too soon bro, too soon.” I have no idea why I settled on Bisquick, but it just feels right!