It was spring in Wickford, a quaint coastal town in Rhode Island. The streets were lined with charming colonial homes, freshly blossomed trees, and the sweet scent of the season's first flowers. Teenagers milled around the town center, bored and restless, while families walked their dogs, soaking up the sun and leisurely sipping iced coffees from the local café.

Into this picturesque scene stumbled Robot and Zombie. Robot—wearing his usual getup of a death metal band shirt, ripped jeans, and a flannel tied around his waist—was strutting through the streets with a swagger that suggested he owned the place. He clearly didn’t. Zombie, shorter but more looming in his way, shuffled quietly behind him in his usual stupor, eyes slightly vacant as he tried, unsuccessfully, to bite Robot’s head.

Robot waved off the attempt with a dismissive, "Back off, Z. You're not eating my brain today. Gotta keep this genius intact."

Zombie, in his usual monotone, groaned, "Genius…"

"Yeah, yeah. Now stay sharp, we’re scoping out opportunities here. Wickford’s crawling with easy marks. These fancy folks don’t know what hit 'em when we roll through town."

Just as Robot was plotting his latest scheme, something unusual caught his attention. Across the street, nestled beside a quaint wooden bench, sat a tiny, fluffy puppy. The puppy had big, wide eyes and was wagging its tail, clearly happy to see them—or anyone, really.

Robot blinked. "Is that… a dog?"

Zombie looked over, his jaw half hanging open. "Dog…" he mumbled.

"Yeah, yeah, I can see that. A dog. What’s it doing here?"

The puppy barked, taking a few awkward steps toward them, its little legs stumbling as it tried to keep its balance. Robot looked around nervously, realizing no one else was paying attention. The perfect crime, or so he thought.

"We’re taking this dog," Robot said, in a conspiratorial tone.

Zombie tilted his head, confused, his slow, undead brain not quite understanding Robot’s plan. "Dog…?"

"Yes, Z. We’re taking it. We’ll raise it, teach it our ways, and it’ll be the ultimate guard dog for all our criminal activities! No one can resist a cute puppy, and then BAM!" He slammed his fists together for effect. "We strike."

Just as Robot bent down to grab the puppy, a group of local teenagers walked by. Among them was Cathy, the brainy girl with a soft spot for troublemakers like Zombie. She stopped in her tracks, her brow furrowing as she saw the duo near the puppy.

"Oh God, what are you two doing?" Cathy asked, folding her arms.

Robot stood up straight, feigning nonchalance. "Oh, nothing, Cathy. Just found this stray here, and as responsible citizens, we're planning on giving it a home."

Cathy raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, right. What, you gonna turn this puppy into some kind of evil minion?"

"Obviously," Robot replied, puffing his chest out. "I mean, look at it. Perfect for—"

"You have no idea what to do with a dog," Vanessa chimed in, appearing behind Cathy. "You're too lazy to take care of yourself, let alone a living thing."

"That’s why Z’s here. He’ll feed it… eventually." Robot waved a hand dismissively at the criticism, not caring that his plan was unraveling fast. "Besides, I have plans. Big plans."

Vanessa snorted, looking at Zombie, who was now leaning down to try and stick the puppy’s head in his mouth. The puppy barked in delight, thinking it was part of a game.

"Uh, I think you need to get the dog away from him before it ends up inside his stomach," Cathy said, grabbing the puppy and cradling it in her arms. "This thing is way too cute to end up as a zombie snack."

Robot threw his arms up in frustration. "You’re all missing the point! I can turn this dog into a loyal, crime-fighting—well, crime-committing—companion! Think of the possibilities!"

"Or," Cathy interrupted, "you could just, I don’t know, take it to the vet and find out if it belongs to someone."

Robot looked horrified. "What? No! That's... that’s something a normie would do!"

Vanessa, leaning in to coo at the puppy, smirked. "Well, then maybe you should let the normal people handle this."

"I don’t need your help!" Robot shouted. "This is all part of my plan! Besides, I found it first. Finders keepers."

Cathy shook her head, turning her attention back to the puppy, who was now licking her face. "You're not keeping this dog. You have no idea how to care for it."

Just then, Todd Burkin, the local rich kid with more money than sense, wandered over. "Yo, what’s going on here? Who’s dog is that?"

Before Robot could respond, Todd’s dimwitted brain began to click into place. "Wait, you found that dog? Dude, that thing’s probably worth like, a lot of cash. Purebred and everything."

Robot’s eyes lit up. "Worth a lot of cash, you say?"

Cathy sighed. "Don’t listen to him, Robot."

But it was too late. Robot’s scheming mind was already in overdrive. "I knew it! This puppy’s not just cute, it’s an investment. We sell it, make a fortune!"

Vanessa rolled her eyes. "And here I thought you had even an ounce of compassion."

"Hey," Robot sneered, "I’m a genius, not a charity worker. This puppy’s my ticket to riches!"

Cathy stood firm. "No way. You’re not selling this puppy. We’re going to find out if it belongs to anyone."

The teenagers formed a united front, standing between Robot, Zombie, and the puppy. Robot, sensing he was losing the battle, threw his hands up in frustration.

"Fine, whatever. Take the stupid dog. I don’t need it. I’ve got better things to do than waste time with you losers."

As Cathy, Vanessa, and the others began to walk away, Robot muttered under his breath, "This town just doesn’t appreciate genius. One day, they’ll see. One day."

Zombie, still standing by the bench, mumbled, "Genius…"

Robot huffed. "Shut up, Z. Let’s go find something else to do. Maybe there’s a bank we can rob. I’m feeling inspired."

And with that, Robot and Zombie shuffled off down the street, leaving behind the peaceful springtime town that had no idea just how close it had come to disaster.

This was another odd day in Wickford, where chaos came and went, just like spring breezes, leaving only slightly more mayhem in its wake.