South Park: Senior Year

11. Sparky

"Dad's on his way home, Stan."
Shelly peaked into Stan's room, her voice soft and full of pity.
"Okay." Stan's shaky voice responded. His face was still wet from crying and in his arms, he held his exhausted dog. He had been holding Sparky like this since he collapsed in the hallway the night before. He didn't want to let go, scared that the moment he did, Sparky would be gone.
He stood slowly, still holding his dog, and made his way to the living room. He sat on the couch, his dad entering the house a few moments after.
His dad looked at him with a sad expression. "Hey, Stan."
Stan didn't meet his gaze. His mother came into the room and sat beside him. She wrapped her arm around him, squeezing him gently. "It's time, Stanley."
Immediately, he burst into tears, burying his face in his dog's furry neck.
His mom hugged him tighter. " I know, baby, I know." She whispered.
But how could she know? None of them could possibly understand how much this hurt. He was about to lose his best friend.

The family made their way into their backyard, Sparky still in Stan's arms but now wrapped in an old blanket. His dad went farther away from the house, a shotgun in his hand. Stan didn't dare look at him or the gun. He couldn't bring himself to look at anything except for Sparky's face. His tired eyes looked back up at Stan before he licked the tears from his cheeks. Stan hugged him tighter.
His mom stood in front of him, her hands held out. Stan stared at them for a few long minutes before gently placing the dog in her hands.
"It'll be okay, Stanley. Everything will be okay." Shelly said softly, resting a hand on his shoulder.
No, it would not be okay. It felt like nothing would ever be okay again.
His mom walked towards his father, placing Sparky on the ground beside him. When she walked back, tears were streaming down her face. She wrapped her arms around Stan, holding him as tight as she could.
"I'm sorry, Stanley." She said.
Shelly's gaze dropped to the floor. Stan watched as his father lifted the gun, pointing it at the old dog in front of him.
"Wait." Stan said. "Wait, please." He sobbed. He tried to step forward, but his mom held him in place.
"Wait, please! Just wait!" He screamed. Shelly held him too now. He struggled and thrashed, trying to get out of their grasp. Trying to get back to his dog.
"Please don't kill him! Dad, don't do it, please! Dad, please don't take him away from me!" He screamed and thrashed as much as he could. "I need him! He's my best friend, please!"
"I'm sorry, Stanley. Please." His mom begged, doing her best to hold him.
"Stanley, he's suffering." Shelly said, her voice breaking. "We have to let him go."
Stan sobbed harder, still trying to push his way out of his family's grasp. "Please! Don't do this, please! I'm not ready!"
Stan looked away right as the gun went off. He screamed, collapsing to his knees. He shoved his face into his mom who had gone down with him.
"No!" He screamed and sobbed into his mother. "No, no, no, no, no!"
She ran her fingers through his hair. Shelly hugged him from behind. He lay there sobbing and yelling until he grew too tired to scream anymore. His throat ached and his head throbbed. His mom and sister stayed there beside him until the sun went down and they could hear crickets. He felt a numbness in his chest.
His father had dug a hole in the yard, which he now placed Sparky in, still wrapped in the old blanket.
Stan turned his gaze down to the floor, unable to watch his dog be buried.
His dog was dead.
His best friend was gone.
Stan wanted to rip his own heart out and die along with him.