The Random Object Society

It was Thursday and Oscar Kangas stood by the door waiting patiently but with a fair degree of anticipation for UPS to deliver his package from The Random Object Society. Each Thursday a package wrapped in brown paper containing a random object was delivered directly to him.

The sizes of the packages varied depending on what they contained. There had been tiny packages and medium sized packages and one memorable day there had been a package that was at least 6 feet long that had contained a plaster of Paris candy cane from some long defunct Santa’s Village. In the months since he’d subscribed to the Random Object Society’s service he’d also received a half eaten ham and Swiss on rye, a glass eye, a length of rusty barbed wire, a dead rat, a set of press-on nails, a chipped tea cup and a dirty pink sock along with a plethora of other equally useless items.

But he’d also gotten a diamond ring that he’d sold for $500, a tiny Weimaraner puppy with 3 legs he’d named Sparky who was now almost fully grown and waited patiently next to him for the UPS delivery, a brick of hashish which he’d hidden in the basement because he didn’t partake and he wasn’t even sure if it was legal in his state, as well as an antique katana that he’d made the mistake of testing with his thumb which resulted in a trip to the emergency room and several stitches.

At least 2 months had passed since the last time he’d gotten anything he considered valuable so he thought he must be due, perhaps even overdue for something exciting. When the truck pulled up in front of his house he watched while the driver got out, went around to the back of the truck and rolled up the door, leaned in and pulled out a square box, roughly 2 feet on a side, wrapped, as always, in plain brown paper and fastened with twine, and walked it up the path to his front door.

He had the door open before the driver was able to ring the bell. She handed the box to him and he set it on the table in the entryway so he could free up his hands to make a squiggle with his finger on the electronic device she carried. She turned away and started down the path as he closed the door. He realized he’d been so excited about the box that he hadn’t even bothered to greet her and then shrugged his shoulders. She hadn’t said anything either.

He lifted the box and brought it into the kitchen. It wasn’t particularly heavy, perhaps 10 pounds, maybe a little more. Sparky was uncharacteristically excited by the box, jumping up and down, his little stump of a tail wiggling manically as he smashed his nose into the box in an effort to better smell it’s contents.

“Down boy,” he said. Sparky ignored him and continued to leap about.

He dug around in his pocket for his knife, flipped it open and cut the twine, tore the paper off and slit the tape. He carefully opened the box which was full of packing peanuts. He felt around inside until he touched a glass jar which he pulled out and placed on the table. Sparky barked and continued his canine version of the funky chicken. There was no calming him down.

The jar contained what looked like green jello. There were tiny flashes of light visible in its depths and it seemed to be moving slightly, as though it were alive. He pawed through the peanuts to see if there were any directions or indications of what one could do with the jar of green goo but there was nothing.

Unscrewing the top he poured the contents of the jar onto the table. It lay there, pulsing slightly. He prodded it with a finger but it didn’t react. Sparky had finally quieted down and was eyeing the blob of goo curiously when, without warning, he put his single foreleg on the table, pulled himself up as far as he could and slurped down the entire pool of goo. He settled back onto the floor, gave Oscar a quizzical look and wandered over to his bed in the corner of the small kitchen, curled up and fell asleep.

Oscar wondered if he should call a vet. He didn’t know if the green goo was edible and even if humans could consume it there was always the possibility that it was toxic to dogs. He knelt down next to Sparky and stroked his head.

“You alright, boy?”

Sparky opened an eye and said, “I’m fine. I just need a little rest.”

“You can talk.”

“Brilliant deduction, Sherlock. Now leave me the fuck alone.”

Oscar was nonplussed. He stood up and went out back to sit on his deck and think about things. Had Sparky always been able to talk? Or was this the result of eating the green goo? It was possible that he’d always been a talking dog but it seemed that the goo was probably to blame. He decided he needed to get to the bottom of this so he went back inside to confront Sparky.

“Have you always been a talking dog?” he asked.

Sparky looked at him with disdain. “You’re not the sharpest tool in the shed, are you?”

Oscar was speechless. Why was Sparky being like this?

“Look, Chief, let me explain. That green stuff? It’s actually a sentient symbiotic organism that hitched a ride on a meteor that fell to Earth some time back. It amplifies your existing intelligence a thousandfold. It was intended for you and would have given you godlike powers had you ever gotten around to eating it, but I got to it first and so... talking dog!”

“This is great! We can get rich! Who doesn’t want to hear a talking dog?”

“Who’s this ‘we’ Chief? I don’t need you anymore. I can talk. I’m outta here just as soon as my other leg grows back.” Oscar looked at him quizzically. “Oh, yeah - the symbiont does that too. You really missed the bus on that one ace!” Sparky put his head back down and curled up tightly, effectively shutting Oscar out.

He decided to have a drink and go to bed early. He read for a little while and drifted off to sleep. He was untroubled by dreams and slept the night through. The next morning he went down to check on Sparky but he was gone. Looking around he saw that the front door was still open. He ran outside and spotted Sparky about half a block away. He yelled out “Sparky!” Sparky turned around and looked at Oscar and then started running away as fast as he could. Oscar noted that his front leg had regrown so Sparky was really hauling ass. Unfortunately he wasn’t watching where he was going and ran into the street where he was hit by a car and instantly killed.

Oscar went back into his house and went into the kitchen. He started making coffee and wondered what he would get from The Random Object Society next week. He hoped it was something good this time.