Summary: The dog days are over.

He was awoken yet again.

His processors whirred and trilled, fans humming softly, while his data banks and processors booted to life. Powering up was akin to what the organics called "waking from slumber". It was always a bittersweet feeling. For one, he would have liked to remain in his idle state- the dog rarely ever remembered to shut him down, which would eventually cause his hard drive to overheat and he'd be forced to undergo involuntary shutdown, so in a way his only reprieve was powering off. But then again, there wasn't much a being could do while temporarily comatose, not as though he were complaining or anything of that sort. It was sort of nice to be aware of what was happening around him, despite the fact that he could only update his data banks via the Internet and on occasion, the dog. Alas, the life of a computer.

The sound of tiny paws pitter-pattering away brought Computer out of his own musings. The sad excuse for a dog was hopping about from foot-to-foot, a toothy smile consuming his face while his little tail wagged rapidly behind him. The twit was especially happy this evening.

Courage quickly hobbled towards the chair and scurried onto it, plopping himself down onto his usual bucket seat.

"And to what do I owe this honor?" It was a sarcastic retort at best, customary in his arsenal of scathing comments and cynical remarks, yet the dog never protested. The kid would occasionally grunt and roll his eyes or even threaten to power him down, but other than that, Courage deflected most of the insults. This time, the dog ignored the comment altogether and immediately began typing on the keyboard.

Computer deftly absorbed what the canine had typed.

"Cookie recipes?" Computer scoffed, his British accent ever prominent. If he had eyes, they would've been rolling by now. "This deviates from what you usually look up."

Courage spewed some gibberish or another, an occasional English word thrown into the mix. The dog was always so energetic when it came to speaking. Realizing that Computer wasn't understanding him in the least, Courage began typing once more.

"Gingerbread men? Is it that time of the year already?"

Courage nodded enthusiastically.

Computer sighed. It was a rather unpleasant sigh, as though he were terribly bored. "I'm sure the farmer's wife knows a slew of recipes. You don't need my help."

The dog whined, and Computer relented.

"Fine. I'll print something out for you." In a matter of minutes, Computer managed to find a relatively simple recipe. Since molasses was always such a tricky ingredient to work with, Computer thought he'd be lenient for just this once and make it easier on the dog and his elderly owner. He ended up printing a recipe that called for butterscotch pudding instead of molasses.

"Alright," Computer trilled. "Have fun baking your cookies, kid."

Courage barked a quick "Yes!" and swiped the printed recipe from the printer, hugging it to his chest. He hobbled over and pressed a tiny paw to Computer's hard drive, and then quickly scampered away.

Computer would have called it endearing, if the word even existed in his word processor.

The dog hadn't come up for a whole week, and the only way Computer knew this was because of his internal clocking system. He had been forced to shut himself down once again after the twit had left to bake cookies with his owner. Sometime during the week, Computer managed to activate himself during a lightning storm.

That was three days ago, and still, he had yet to see neither hide nor hair of the kid. Actually, he couldn't even hear the farmer either, which was quite unusual because Eustace was a very loud, obnoxious thing. And what of Courage? The dog had some lungs, Computer would give him that, but he had yet to hear Courage's trademark shrieks of peril and doom. Were the ghosties taking a break?

And then the attic door opened. The resounding creak reverberated throughout the room. In waddled the dog, his tail between his legs, and Computer couldn't help but notice that something was terribly different about the kid today.

Courage slowly and meticulously crawled on all fours towards the computer, which was strange in and of itself because the dog usually walked upright like the farmer and his wife and most other fleshlings. Courage's head was hung low, a seemingly dejected position, droopy eyes trained towards the floor. The whites of his eyes were lined with spidery red veins, and dark circles rung around his optics- it looked as if he hadn't slept a wink of sleep.

Finally, Courage wearily climbed the chair and sat down on the bucket seat, a heavy sigh escaping him. Computer then noted that the fur around his face and eyes was wet and matted, sticking up in clumpy magenta strands. Without any greeting, the dog began typing away.

"Nowhere Cemetery," Computer whirred, his voice customarily detached. "What? Don't tell me it's zombies again."

Courage only whimpered and looked away. The dog seemed incredibly tired.

"Or are you going to channel the dead this time? Is that it?"

Courage didn't respond. The dog was looking out the window. It was midday and the vibrant sun was aloft in the sky, casting rays of warm sunlight upon the barren earth. The little dog looked so lost and forlorn, sitting slumped against the chair, an occasional whine and whimper yipping from his throat. His little legs twitched and his ears were pressed to his head, tears rimming his eyes. The twit couldn't have looked more pathetic. And then the dog typed something else.

"Burial costs?" Computer queried after analyzing the words. A lengthy silence permeated the attic room, stifling both its occupants. The soft hum of Computer's processors were the only noises heard.

The dog's eyes were practically glazed over in a filmy layer of tears, liquid bubbling at the corners of his eyes. Courage blinked and blinked, willing the tears away, but he couldn't do it for much longer. Computer knew that. Courage knew it.

The dog let his tears froth and spill over, wetting his already matted and damp fur. A clipped groan escaped his throat, a soft whimper underlying his anguished cries. Courage slumped forward and placed his head on the keyboard, his little body shuddering and convulsing, tears leaking between the keys.

Computer didn't mind it this time.

Well that was depressing. D: Review please?