Sorry, I'm Allergic.

Day 1

It was by pure coincidence that she had been walking home with a freshly washed sauce pan on the night of August 19th. Having left a friendly get together in a good mood, everything quickly went downhill, quite literally, when her car started sputtering on the way down a particularly steep hill. Pulling over, and checking three times that the emergency brake was up, she went and lifted the hood, only to be attacked by a cloud of gray smoke that made her eyes tear and nostrils burn. Once the smoke had cleared, it was official. Her car had met its untimely demise on an old abandoned hill, at least three miles mile away from her street.

She sighed and began gathering her bearings, because instead of acting like a rational person and phoning a friend, she decided to chance it.

It had been unusually gray and bleak for a summer evening. There was an unsettling chill that clung to the air which made her draw her bag close and clutch the handle of her pan tighter as she trudged on.

Four more blocks, she inwardly chanted to herself, half an hour later. It was her new mantra. With each passing step, the closer and closer she got to her home and ultimately her bed, the more and more irked she became.

She blamed her father. It was all his fault she was the way she was. He was the one who had brainwashed her as a little girl about women and all their limitations. It was because of him she was so scared to walk alone at night.

Girls can't do this. She thought mockingly in her head doing her best impersonation of her father. Girls can't do that. Girls can't-

She was stopped mid-rant at the sight of a black shadow running straight towards her. Whatever it was, her sauce pan decided it wanted to say, 'hello,' as it met something head on with a 'bang!'

Slowly, she dared to open one eye, and then the other. She fought back a scream with the capacity of waking up the entire town.

Oh, my gosh! Oh, my gosh! Oh, my gosh! That's all she could think as she stared down at the dog she had knocked out cold. He, she, it? It was hard to tell from the position it laid in. It was a big dog with pointed ears, a long snout and scruffy brown fur. It's tongue hung out limply to the side which just made the sight even more pitiful.

After she got over the initial shock, she spent a little too long debating on her next move. After all, she couldn't just leave the poor thing for the dead. The big factor in the equation though, was just how was she supposed to drag the big brute home? The even bigger factor, she was highly allergic to dogs.

Well, the question may or may not have solved itself as the dog's appearance began to dwindle, and instead she was left with the sight of a naked man.

She didn't even scream at that point. She couldn't. It was a scream that got lodged in the back of her throat, and never made it out. Slowly she began to slip into denial. She had to be dreaming. Still, no matter how many times she pinched herself, or how many hits to the head she took with her pan, there was still an unconscious, naked man, sprawled out at her feet.

Slowly, she shrugged her way out of her cardigan. She focused directly on his face while half-praying he'd wake up, and save her from her misery, while at the same time hoping he wouldn't, saving her from further embarrassment. She propped him up against a street lamp, and did her best to tie her cardigan around his waist to hide his indecency.

Then she just stared at him. She could call the police. Then she remembered that her DNA was all over him now, not to mention she had just assaulted him. She could call and then leave. But then, what if he died? Wouldn't she be accused of murder?

She just turned her attention to her blasted cardigan as she cursed her modesty. She'd be free if it wasn't for the damned piece of fabric.

With a sigh, she abandoned her pan, and swinging one of his arms over her shoulders, almost toppling over under his weight, she half-walked, half-dragged him the last four blocks to her house.

She all but threw him on the couch, before running to take cover behind a lamp of all things. The whole situation was like the plot to a bad horror movie. Girl walked home alone at night; girl saved strange, mildly attractive guy; guy woke up; girl is killed- the end.

She really had been pretty stupid the more she thought about it. Why hadn't she just made an anonymous call to the animal shelter or the police, and been done with it?

Instead, she cracked her fingers, and after grabbing a towel, some blankets, and her laptop, she spent over an hour googling: how to treat an unconscious man. Aside from the obvious. She checked every so often to see if he was still breathing, she didn't leave him alone, etc. Still, every article emphasized the need to call 9-1-1. And every time she saw it, her hand began to inch its way towards her phone on the coffee table.

At the last second though, her hand would always halt, and she'd find herself in the same debate. What would happen if he turned back into a dog again at the hospital? He'd spend the rest of his life as a half-human-dog-lab-rat. But then again, he wouldn't be dead. That had to count for something... right?

She sighed, and grabbing one of the blankets, curled into a ball in the chair opposite of him. Acting like a guard dog, she continued to watch him as long as her eyes could stay open. One of her last thoughts as she began nodding off was how she had always wanted a dog as a kid. Before the allergy problem, anyway. It was just her luck she'd end up with a dog that could turn into a man.

Please be a dream. And then she drifted off to sleep.

*Author's Note*

Hello all, so I accidently pledged to the April #JustWriteIt challenge-thingy, and figured I should stay true to my word. This is just a short story I had written for my Creative Fiction Workshop earlier this year, and it got a lot of laughs, and some great feedback. I hope you enjoy, and laugh a bit!