Note: No pets were harmed during the writing of this piece. 🐶😎

SPANIEL EYES

The man from Von Frankenstein Un-Limited stood by the closed door of the bedroom, clad in the customary VFUL black gear, feigning prescribed commiseration. His eagerness could only be spotted by how he held the digital notepad that would ensnare his client’s signature – greedily, like a weasel ready to taser a quail with it.

Oblivious to his presence, Mr. Springer kept staring at the body on the bed.

It was raining. (It always is in these things.) From time to time, lightning would turn the softly lit room into an even eerier scene, the ensuing thunder sounding final but never actually keeping that promise.

After four or five flashes, the man from Von Frankenstein Un-Limited shifted his weight, cleared his throat and, without daring to move from where he stood, said, “I don’t mean to pressure you, sir, but time is of the essence here.”

Mr. Springer gave a short nod. His gaze remained on the body. “It was an accident,” he muttered.

“Yes, of course it was, sir,” the man from VFUL promptly agreed. “It’s been cleared, sir. There will be no inquest. Your policy with us covers all that.” He paused, slowly counting to three with his inner voice, before continuing: “However, if you wish to revive Mrs. Springer, we must act immediately, sir.”

Eyes still on the body, Mr. Springer blinked.

The man from VFUL swallowed at the prospect of losing the hefty commission. “You do wish to revive Mrs. Springer…” Lightning turned the bedroom into something out of a vintage movie one more time. He waited until after the brutal thunder had roared before adding: “Don’t you, sir?”

Mr. Springer nodded – unmistakably, this time. “Yes,” he said. “Of course!”

The man from VFUL almost let out a sigh of relief. He stepped a little closer, extended the notepad, and said, “In that case, sir, if you'd be so kind… Just place your palm on the screen.”

Hand already halfway to the notepad, the device singing its expectant low hum, Mr. Springer hesitated.

The man from VFUL held his breath.

“This reviving process,” Mr. Springer said, finally glancing at the other man. “Is it possible to have some changes made to her body?”

“Yes, of course, sir. But you have a Wollstonecraft Premium account, sir. Your wife will already receive a full upgrade. New and improved body. State of the art.”

“Yes,” said Mr. Springer, sounding unimpressed. “But I’d like something else. Something… different.”

“Of course, sir! We can do that. Different eye color? Hair? Skin?”

Mr. Springer’s gaze drifted back to the oversized bed and his wife’s body. “I want the head of a Cocker Spaniel,” he said, very quietly.

“I beg your pardon, sir?”

“The head,” said Mr. Springer. “I want a body upgrade, but with the head of a Cocker Spaniel.”

“Cocker Spaniel as in… a dog, sir?”

“Yes, exactly. It’s those eyes, you see? So kind! I had a spaniel once – a long, long time ago. The real thing, you know? Not that synthetic stuff that they put out now. Had to put it down. Worst day of my life.”

“I’m so sorry, sir. But wouldn’t you rather have a dog instead? I can assure you that the puppies we manufacture at Von Frankenstein Un-Limited are absolutely indistinguishable from the real ones. You even have to house-train them now! I’m sure we can add one to this order – as a bonus. No extra charge.”

“No,” said Mr. Springer, frowning. “I want my wife revived with the head of a Cocker Spaniel. Can you do that?”

For some reason, the man from Von Frankenstein Un-Limited expected lightning to strike at that precise moment. It didn’t. So he just smiled demurely and said:

“Yes, sir. It’s been done before. Not with the head of a dog. Not exactly. But, yes, we can do that. Of course.”

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Author’s Note: I wrote this piece today, entirely from memory, based on a flash fiction story I originally penned twenty years ago and lost to a dead hard drive. Some stories never completely leave you, I guess.

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