by Tom Watson
DEDICATION
To MEJ
(IWTASD)
CONTENTS
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter 1: May I Lick Your Nose?
Chapter 2: Delicious Red Goo
Chapter 3: Stripes Acts as a Lookout
Chapter 4: Stick Cat Is in Her Spot
Chapter 5: Stripes and Her Soul Mate
Chapter 6: Shh!
Chapter 7: Good, Bad, and Great News
Chapter 8: Rocket Ships and Marriage
Chapter 9: Nails—and More Nails
Chapter 10: A Flying Octopus
Chapter 11: Karen Cries a Little
Chapter 12: Someone Spots Stick Dog
Chapter 13: Grand Finale
Chapter 14: Cake?!
Chapter 15: The Most Important Part of This Whole Shindig
Chapter 16: So Bright—So Dark
Chapter 17: Everything Goes Dark
Chapter 18: Everyone Gets to Work
Chapter 19: Stick Dog Sees Two Things
Chapter 20: Edith Is Busted
Chapter 21: Stick Dog Steps Aside
About the Author
Back Ad
Copyright
About the Publisher
CHAPTER 1
MAY I LICK YOUR NOSE?
It was cool outside as the night grew dark. But it was warm inside Stick Dog’s pipe as he and his friends came closer together.
Stick Dog, Karen, Poo-Poo, and Stripes formed a circle around Mutt. They wanted dessert—and they hoped Mutt might have something.
“Just give a couple of good shakes, Mutt,” Stick Dog encouraged.
“Okay,” Mutt said. He was, of course, happy to help the group, but you could tell he wasn’t confident there would be a sweet treat in his fur that they could share.
Mutt shook.
Several things flew out, including a pencil stub, half a slipper, two bottle caps, a shoestring, and an old paper napkin.
“Nothing,” Poo-Poo said after quickly examining all the stuff that lay scattered about Mutt.
“Bummer,” Karen said.
Stripes just sighed. And then her stomach grumbled.
Mutt was clearly disappointed that he let down his friends. He hung his head. And when he did, a small red-and-white packet fell from the thick fur behind his neck.
“What’s that?” Karen asked, and came closer. She put her front right paw gingerly on the packet. “It feels funny. It’s squishy.”
“It’s squishy?” asked Stripes.
“Yeah. Squishy.”
Stripes pressed her paw against the packet, felt the squishiness, and giggled.
Stick Dog was curious about the thing—and he hoped that, perhaps, this small squishy red-and-white packet would distract them from their lack of dessert. They had found a whole package of hot dog buns by the playground earlier in the day. Their bellies were relatively full for the night. They simply wanted something sweet before sleep.
Stick Dog asked, “Where did you find this interesting packet, Mutt?”
“It was in a crumpled-up Burger King bag that I found on the side of Highway 16 a few days ago,” Mutt answered. He then quickly added, “But there were no hamburgers inside. Just this squishy thing and a couple of napkins.”
Stick Dog nodded.
“It’s fun!” Karen said. “It’s squishy—and it gurgles when you touch it.”
Poo-Poo asked, “Can I see?”
Mutt, Karen, and Stripes were happy to oblige his request. They each backed one step away while Poo-Poo came two steps closer.
He pressed a paw gently against the packet. He felt it squish—and heard it squelch. He exclaimed, “Neat!”
“Burger King is a restaurant,” Stick Dog said quietly. He twisted his head a bit and raised his right eyebrow slightly. He was obviously trying to figure something out. “If it came from a restaurant, then—”
But Stick Dog didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence.
That’s because, at that precise moment, Poo-Poo pressed his paw down harder on the packet.
Too hard.
The packet burst open.
And sprayed red stuff everywhere.
Then several things happened at once:
Poo-Poo leaped into the air, arching his back quickly to get away from the spraying red terror. Stripes and Mutt jerked away. Karen shuddered but did not move. She had taken a direct hit on her little dachshund nose. She stared cross-eyed at the great red glop that had settled there.
“It’s blood!” screamed Poo-Poo in midair. After he landed half a second later, he added, “Whatever was in that packet pierced Karen! She’s bleeding!”
Stripes suddenly began to search Stick Dog’s pipe. She swung her head left and right. She flipped the old couch cushion that Stick Dog slept on. There was nothing under it.
“Stick Dog?!” Stripes yelled.
“Yes?”
“Where are your emergency medical supplies?!”
“My what?”
“Your emergency medical supplies!” Stripes panted and then looked under the couch cushion again. There was still nothing there. “Karen is bleeding to death! Didn’t you hear Poo-Poo?! We need medical supplies! Somebody boil some water! We need bandages! Get me your X-ray machine! Where’s your defibrillator?! Mutt! Can you shake something out of your fur that will help?!”
“Like what, Stripes?”
“I don’t know!” Stripes screamed. She was in a real panic. “A chain saw! An ambulance! Anything!”
Mutt wanted to help. So he started to shake.
“Poo-Poo’s right,” Karen whispered as she stood absolutely stone-still. She stared at that red glop on her nose. “I’m bleeding.”
Stick Dog shook his head at this complete overreaction by his friends. He knew he had to calm down Stripes most of all. But he just had to ask something first.
“Stripes?” Stick Dog asked slowly. “Why would you need a chain saw? I don’t think of chain saws as medical equipment.”
“Her nose, Stick Dog, her nose!” Stripes screamed. She was not calmed by Stick Dog’s demeanor. “We might have to cut it off and glue it back on! She might need a nose job!”
Mutt seemed encouraged by this for some reason and began to shake even more vigorously.
“Well, I’m not having any luck with the chain saw or the ambulance,” he said after a few seconds. “But I might have some glue in here to reattach Karen’s nose after we cut it off with the chain saw. I think I found a bottle of glue behind the school a few months ago.”
Stick Dog realized more direct intervention was necessary.
“Everybody stop,” he said kindly, but firmly. “Karen is not bleeding. She’s not hurt.”
“I’m not?” asked Karen.
“I don’t think so. You only see blood when you’re hurt. Like when you get a bad cut or a scrape or something,” Stick Dog said. There was something about the way he spoke that soothed the others. He seemed quite sure of himself. Mutt stopped shaking. Poo-Poo came a step closer toward Karen. Even Stripes settled a little bit. “Does anything hurt?”
Karen rolled her eyes around a bit to examine herself and then reached a conclusion. She said, “As a matter of fact, nothing hurts. Nothing at all. How did you know that, Stick Dog? I didn’t even know myself.”
“Just a lucky guess. I’m glad you’re not hurt,” Stick Dog said. “Now, I think what happened—”
Stripes wasn’t completely convinced yet. She interrupted, “Then how do you explain the blood? Something shot out of that packet and smashed into Karen’s nose! And made her bleed!”
“I think,” Stick Dog said, “that the red stuff itself came out of the packet and splattere
d on Karen’s nose. I think it just happens to be the color of blood.”
“But what is it?” asked Karen. She was still nervous about it.
“Just give it a taste,” Stick Dog said. “And find out.”
“Seriously?!” exclaimed Karen. She still didn’t move.
“I think it’s food,” Stick Dog assured. “Mutt found it in a bag from a restaurant. It’s not a napkin or a fork or a spoon. It might be some kind of food. Like some sauce or something.”
“Hey!” Poo-Poo exclaimed. Something had just occurred to him. “Maybe Stick Dog is right. I know he’s not usually correct, but maybe—just maybe—he’s onto something here.”
Mutt asked, “Why do you think that, Poo-Poo?”
“Remember when we found those donuts?” Poo-Poo asked.
His friends nodded. They remembered that morning easily. It was one of their greatest feasts. They had gorged themselves on two dozen donuts—and plenty of apples too. They began to salivate at the memory.
“Well, remember the donut that I thought I killed?” Poo-Poo asked. “It was just like this packet! It had red liquid stuff inside too. And I thought it was blood. But it wasn’t! It tasted like strawberries. It was food!”
“Jeez, then maybe Stick Dog is right,” Stripes said with surprise in her voice.
“It’s possible, I guess,” whispered Karen. She still didn’t move. “However unlikely.”
Even Mutt concurred. “Old Stick Dog is right for a change, huh? Well, how about that? Good for you, Stick Dog. Good for you.”
“Umm, thanks,” replied Stick Dog.
“Does that red stuff smell like strawberries?” Poo-Poo asked.
“How should I know?” asked Karen.
“It’s on your nose, Karen,” Stick Dog said. “You should be able to smell it.”
“Oh, right.”
Stick Dog did not feel the need to mention that Karen had likely been smelling that red splotch this whole time. It was, after all, on her nose. And she had been, you know, breathing. He figured she was just too freaked-out to notice.
So, he just said, “Give it a little sniff. See if you can smell any delicious aromas.”
Karen did just that.
She gave a tiny sniff and then squinted her eyes in contemplation for a few seconds.
“It’s pizza!” Karen said excitedly.
“Pizza?” asked Poo-Poo, Stripes, and Mutt all at once.
The dogs all knew what pizza was—they had devoured five whole pizzas one night long ago.
“Well, it’s like pizza,” Karen amended. “It’s like the red stuff that was under the cheese. Sort of.”
Poo-Poo came a step closer and then asked a question that caught them all by surprise.
“Karen,” he said. “May I lick your nose?”
CHAPTER 2
DELICIOUS RED GOO
Now, under normal circumstances, Poo-Poo’s request to lick Karen’s nose would be quite bizarre.
But these were not normal circumstances.
Imagine if you asked someone if you could lick her nose. Let’s call this person Mildred—you know, just to give her a name.
Now, Mildred might think you are nuts. She would probably ask, “Why do you want to lick my nose?”
And if it was a similar situation, you would answer something like “Because there’s a bit of food by your left nostril that I would like to taste.”
Then Mildred would probably back slowly away and say something like “You are a loony-bird.”
That’s probably what this person would say. It’s possible, I suppose, that Mildred trusts you completely. And if she is that kind of person, she might say something like this instead, “Well, it’s kind of a strange request, but I trust you. Go ahead. Lick my nose.”
If you ask someone if you can lick their nose and, like Mildred here, she allows you to lick her nose . . . well, I just think you should consider that person a really, really good friend.
So, here’s an idea. At lunchtime at school, walk around and look for people with food on their noses. When you find one, ask them if you can lick his or her nose. If they say yes, then you’ve found a true friend.
If your friend has a mustache, I wouldn’t even ask. Licking the nose of someone with a mustache seems kind of gross.
Well, Karen didn’t have a mustache. And she trusted Poo-Poo completely. So she said, “Go ahead.”
Poo-Poo stuck his tongue out ever so carefully. It got closer to Karen’s nose.
And closer.
And closer.
Until Poo-Poo’s tongue touched the red splotch on her nose. He closed his eyes and then leaned his head back to concentrate on the flavor, allowing it to spread inside his mouth.
Stick Dog, Mutt, Stripes, and Karen waited to hear his observation. And Poo-Poo gave it to them.
“Karen’s right,” he said upon lowering his head and opening his eyes. “This red goo is reminiscent of that saucy tomato goodness we discovered on those pizzas. But there is something different here. There’s plenty of tomato, that’s for certain. But the other flavors—”
Poo-Poo didn’t finish his observation.
That’s because every one of the dogs—even Stick Dog—began searching the floor and walls of Stick Dog’s pipe for other drips and drops that had sprayed from that packet. Poo-Poo didn’t seem to mind and began to look for some red flavor spots too.
Karen was the last one to start looking. She took a few seconds to lick her nose first.
It didn’t take long for all five dogs to lick a little drip here and a little drop there. They all agreed that the flavor was similar to the tomato sauce they had tasted long ago.
And that meant one thing.
One simple thing.
Mutt spoke for the group when he turned toward Stick Dog and said, “We HAVE to get some more pizza!”
Stick Dog looked out of his pipe at the darkening night.
“Okay,” he said. “It’s too late to go tonight. But tomorrow night, we’ll go. We’ll try to get some more pizza.”
Mutt, Poo-Poo, Stripes, and Karen began to hop up and down in excitement and anticipation. They knew Stick Dog could lead them to food. What they didn’t know was this:
Stick Dog would not lead them to pizza the next night.
He would lead them to something completely different—and completely delicious.
And he would get help from someone they had met a long, long time ago.
CHAPTER 3
STRIPES ACTS AS A LOOKOUT
The moon was a skinny sliver in the dark sky above the Pizza Palace.
“You guys stay here,” Stick Dog said. Poo-Poo, Mutt, Karen, and Stripes were situated behind a guardrail at the edge of the parking lot. “I’ll take a quick look in the window. Stripes, can you keep an eye out for cars? Give me a shout if you see one coming.”
“You bet,” Stripes said, and nodded. “You can count on me.”
While Stick Dog sprinted across the empty parking lot, the other dogs did all the things that they did best.
Karen chased her tail.
And didn’t catch it.
Stripes watched her.
Mutt shook out that half slipper from his fur and began to chew on it.
Stripes watched him too.
Poo-Poo bumped his forehead a few times against the guardrail.
“What are you doing?” Stripes asked Poo-Poo. She watched him as well.
“Just warming up,” Poo-Poo answered, before bumping his head again. The guardrail made a heavy, metallic, ringing THUD-D-D. “You never know when some good head-bashing will come in handy during one of our adventures.”
Stripes nodded. This seemed to make perfectly good sense to her—and she had no more questions about it. But she did have one more question for the group.
“Why is Stick Dog coming back already?”
Karen stopped chasing her tail—and not catching it.
Mutt stopped chewing on that slipper.
And Poo-Poo ceased hitting
his head on purpose.
They stared out across the parking lot, and, sure enough, Stick Dog was on his way back. He moved fast, kicking up loose pebbles and small blacktop fragments with his paws as he sprinted. When he reached the guardrail, Stick Dog skidded to slow his momentum and then ducked under it to join his friends.
It was just then that a car pulled into the Pizza Palace parking lot.
“Stick Dog?” said Stripes calmly.
He was nearly out of breath, but Stick Dog did manage to answer. “Yes?” he panted.
“There’s a car coming.”
Stick Dog closed his eyes slowly, took several calming breaths the best he could, and then responded after opening them again.
“I know,” Stick Dog said. “That’s why I hustled back here. I heard it coming. The motor got louder and louder. I didn’t want to get seen. Or caught. Or hit by the car.”
“Good thinking,” said Stripes.
Stick Dog couldn’t help himself. He had to ask.
“Weren’t you supposed to be my lookout?” he asked Stripes. “You know, to, umm, warn me if a car was coming?”
“Yes. Yes, I was,” answered Stripes. “And I did. Just now. Didn’t you hear me? I said, ‘There’s a car coming.’”
“Oh, okay,” Stick Dog said. “Did you not hear it coming? You didn’t hear the motor?”
“Stick Dog,” Stripes said. She seemed annoyed to have to explain something to him. “You asked me to keep my eyes open. You didn’t ask me to keep my ears open.”
“Oh. Of course. Yes, I see,” Stick Dog said. He had fully caught his breath now. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Stripes said, “Maybe you weren’t thinking at all.”
“Stick Dog!”
It was Karen. She was excited about something.
“Yes, Karen?”
“I almost caught my tail this time!” she exclaimed. “I mean, it was right there! Right in front of me. So close! I lunged at it and snapped at it. And right when I lunged at it, my tail got farther away. But, man, I’m telling you, I was super-close!”
