I love him. I love him because he is perfect. He is the perfect mix of human and dog traits. I would come home from a long day at work, although preferably I'd work from home, and he'd be there to greet me like a silly dog. He wouldn't work, because I don't really think he'd be able to keep a job given his track record, but that's okay. We'd watch scary movies, play video games, eat junk food, and cuddle all night. I have hobbies of my own and he'd (begrudgingly) respect that, but I'd of course love to indulge in his, which are eating and video games.
His personality is flawless. He's such a coward, but when the going gets tough, he gets going. It's so adorable. He's so brave, even though his reputation says otherwise. I would give him so many Scooby Snax. I don't know if I'd make him solve mysteries with me, but I'd love to see him cry, shake and whine playing horror games. His appearance is amazing, too. I love how zany and goofy he looks. He's got a big chest, a cute tail, and I love his eyes. And on top of all that, his voice is really cute.
I would give anything to spend a day, a night, maybe even just a small moment, with Scooby-Doo. I will never get to be with him, and perhaps that's for the best. I would never be able to return to reality if I got to taste even a second of time with him. God played a sick, twisted game on me, forcing me to live within this cursed reality where Scooby-Doo doesn't exist, yet the idea of him constantly taunts me. I am doomed to watch the same cartoons and movies and read the same books and comics for eternity to satisfy my hunger to be with someone as perfect as him. I could be the richest, smartest, and strongest man in the world, but nothing would bring me more joy than wrapping my arms around Scooby-Doo in romantic embrace.
