Partially intoxicated laughter surrounded a kitchen table in a modest suburban home. Two men and two women sat around the circular wooden surface drinking beer and playing cards. Asshole was the game, and Owen Thorne was winning. That made him President, for now. That could change by the end of the round, though. Vice President was Hanna Thorne, Vice Asshole was Laura MacDonald, a young woman with blonde hair and a pale, angelic face. She was Hanna's friend from high school. The Asshole was none other than John Thorne, Owen's big brother, and Hanna's husband. The four of them were blissfully hammered after consuming %6 beer all evening. It was the real stuff. Canadian beer, not the watered-down American shit they passed off as beer. Canadians didn't drink to socialize or for something to do during the big game. No, Canadians drink to get drunk.

"We should do this more often, Owen," Hanna said with a wide, glowing smile, staring at Owen intently.

Owen took a gulp of beer. "Yeah, I just hate coming here so fucking much, you know?" They all laughed. "Your beer sucks, for one. Okay. Two... Just, whatever. Your beer fuckin' sucks." Owen was legitimately shit faced at this juncture of the evening. But to be fair, so was everyone else around the table.

"Don't worry sweety, it's not you, or the beer. My baby brother here just has a fear of flying," John explained.

"Fuck that!" Owen protested defensively. "I don't 'fear' flying."

"Oh, you don't?"

"No."

"No?"

"No! I don't fuckin'... What do you want from me? I don't fuckin' fear flying. Straight up."

"You mean to tell me that you didn't throw the most epic fit ever in the Halifax Airport, Christmas of '87 because you found out we were flying home instead of taking the train?"

"I wanted to ride the fuckin' train, John. It had nothing to do with the plane."

"The stewardess practically had to babysit you the ENTIRE fucking flight buddy, because you were ballin' your eyes out for the ENTIRE flight."

Everyone laughed with a warm love for each other and Owen.

"He's afraid of snakes," Owen added quickly, smiling as he took a swig of warm, flat beer.

"Asshole," John mumbled, smiling wide with embarrassment.

"Awww! It's okay baby," Hanna comforted John, kissing him on the cheek, holding his hand.

Laura and Owen shared an awkward moment of silence.

"Where's your fiancé, Owen?" she asked him hesitantly.

"Couldn't make it. She's got a lot on her plate with work and school," he explained sadly. He missed her. Wished she was there with him. Alcohol tends to do that to you. Makes you all mushy and sentimental. It betrays all of your defenses and efforts to maintain a firm front and composure.

Owen tossed his cards on the table, chugging the last of his beer. "Alright, folks. I'm hereby retiring for the night."

"What the fuck, shit stain? The game's not even over!" John shouted.

"S.O.L. Johnny boy," Owen said as he left the table, making his way to the guest bedroom.

Owen walked down the hallway of his brother's home. He was shirtless, wearing a pair of jeans from the night before. As he approached the living room area, he stopped in his tracks as he laid eyes on two small puppies running around the hardwood floor. They were huskies, no more than a month old. They were absolutely and undeniably the cutest, most adorable things Owen had ever seen.

"You think she'll like 'em?" John asked cheerfully, kneeling on the living room rug between two sofas.

Owen was bewildered. "Um. Yeah, sure bro." He walked over to the fridge, grabbing a picture of orange juice, and poured himself a tall glass.

"I certainly fucking hope so. These things aren't cheap. You know what I'm sayin'?"

Owen shook his head. "I got a flight to catch here pretty soon, bro. I'ma have to leave within the hour."

"Yeah man. Just be careful, traffic was kinda crazy comin' home today. The bridge was backed up so bad I had to take the valley home, so just let the driver know."

Owen barely acknowledged the information. "Yeah, thanks."

John got to his feet after playing with the dogs. He walked over to Owen, hugging him tightly. "I love you bro. You gotta come see me more often."

"Love you too, Johnny. And we will, Lizzy and me. She was real bummed about not makin' it down here this time. You know she loves Hanna."

"Hanna loves her too," John reassured him. "Laura liked you too, you know?" John said, returning to the puppies. "You're all she talked about after you bailed out. Hanna thinks she likes you."

Owen chuckled awkwardly. "What?"

John shrugged, smiling.

"And I didn't [I]fuckin' bail[/I]. I had to call it in. I have a flight to catch. It's a long walk back to Canada."

"You bailed out like a black man at a Klan rally. Classic Owen move. Still a fuckin' lightweight."

Owen laughed, shaking his head. "I gotta get dressed. Wheels up in two hours."

Owen woke up to the frigid morning air inside the Camaro. As he peered around warily, Lady and Rudy returned his gaze, immediately advancing on his position, bombarding him with heavy fire from soft, slimy tongues and cold, wet noses.

He fought them off and adjusted his seat, removing the blanket and pillow from around him. He grabbed a cigarette and a bottle of water, loosening up and preparing for another day in post-apocalyptic America.