by Tom Watson
“What will they do to us?” asked Mutt.
Poo-Poo seemed to know about such things and answered, “The witches will certainly put us in a pot with vegetables and poison and bugs and stuff. We’ll be boiled into some kind of stew for them to feed to all their witch friends.”
“What kind of vegetables, Poo-Poo?” asked Karen.
“What?!”
“What kind of vegetables do you think they’ll use?” Karen asked again. “I love vegetables. Potatoes, carrots, broccoli. I really love carrots. And since I’m going to be in that pot, maybe I could get a few.”
“Are you crazy? How can you even think about that?”
“I’m hungry. And, you know, I really like vegetables.”
“You’re going to be in the pot, Karen!” Poo-Poo exclaimed. He talked fast, but still whispered. It was obvious he couldn’t believe what he heard.
“Shh!” said Stick Dog. “They’re starting to walk up the driveway.”
“They must be using their evil witch noses to follow our path,” said Poo-Poo, snapping his head back around to confirm that the witches were, in fact, coming their way. After hitting his head on the muffler, he said, “It’s all over.”
“Hey, Poo-Poo?” asked Mutt.
“Yes?”
“I was wondering about these bugs you were talking about,” he said. “You know, the ones that boil in the witch’s pot with us?”
“What about them?”
“What kind of bugs will they be? Any idea?”
Even though Poo-Poo’s eyes were fixed on the driveway, he answered Mutt. “I don’t know.”
“Will there be any green ones with blue wings?” asked Mutt sincerely.
“I don’t know.”
“I hope so,” Mutt replied. He waited to see if anyone would ask him why he hoped so, but nobody did. And after a few seconds he said, “Whenever I hung my head out of the mail truck with my former owner, Gary, I always got bugs in my teeth. And every now and then I would get this little green one with blue wings. Man, that was good eating. I sure hope there are some of those tasty little dudes when I’m in the pot being boiled into a stew.”
Poo-Poo twisted his head around to look at Mutt to see if he was serious. He knew he was when Mutt continued speaking.
“Have I ever told you how great it is to ride in a car?” he asked. And now his words and speech pattern began to gain momentum. He got excited with the memory. “The wind blows back your fur and it cools you off instantly. But the best things are the bugs! Lots of delicious ones can fly into your mouth. Now, you can get some bad ones too. It’s kind of random. But that’s just the price you pay to get some of those delicious buggy morsels! That’s why I asked about the little green ones with blue wings, Poo-Poo. If there are some of those floating around to eat when I’m boiled in a witch’s stew, I don’t think that would be so bad.”
“You don’t?” asked Poo-Poo.
Mutt shook his head. “Let me tell you, those little green guys are like gourmet bugs, man.”
The witches were now halfway up the driveway. And Stick Dog whispered, “Shh! Now! They’re close!”
This got Mutt’s attention. He quieted down instantly but did begin to lick his lips a lot.
“What do we do, Stick Dog?” Stripes asked quickly. “What do we do?”
“Hold still.”
Stick Dog knew exactly how dangerous this situation was. And he was pretty sure he knew what was going to happen. He had never thought witches were real, but he now knew he was wrong. There was, after all, real live evidence getting closer and closer. Stick Dog figured one very simple thing was going to happen—and he would be ready.
Those witches would stoop down and reach under the car and grab one of them. When that happened, Stick Dog figured, there would be a slim chance the remaining four dogs could escape from the other side of the car.
The witches were nine steps away.
“Listen,” Stick Dog whispered over his shoulder to the others. There was absolute seriousness in his voice. “These witches are going to reach under here and try to grab one of us.”
At hearing this, the other dogs scooted back as best they could.
Stick Dog did the opposite thing. He inched out to the edge of the car—and closer to the witches.
The witches were seven steps away.
“Keep your eyes wide open and stay alert,” he instructed quickly. “When you see them grab me, you guys run out the other side as fast as you can. Run in different directions. Find your way back to my pipe. And stay there until you’re all back together.”
“Why?” Stripes whispered.
“So you can take care of each other,” Stick Dog answered quietly.
The witches were five steps away.
Stick Dog scooted out more. Now his nose poked out from beneath the rear bumper.
“Don’t do it,” Poo-Poo whispered, realizing what Stick Dog had planned. “Don’t let them grab you.”
“No, Stick Dog,” Stripes pleaded.
“Just get ready to run,” Stick Dog replied. His mind was made up.
The witches were three steps away.
“Stick Dog?” Karen asked in a voice that was way more serious than she usually used.
“Yes?”
“Could you try to bring back some vegetables?” she asked. “I’m really hungry.”
“And maybe some bugs?” Mutt added.
The witches were one step away.
CHAPTER 6
CANDY IS DANDY
Guess what?
The witches didn’t stop. They didn’t reach under the car and grab Stick Dog. They didn’t yank him out and boil him in a stew.
Not at all.
Do you know what they did?
They walked by.
That’s it.
And Stick Dog, once he was sure they were well past their hiding spot beneath the station wagon, exhaled. His shoulders dropped back down into a comfortable position—well, as comfortable as he could get them when scrunched under a car.
He turned his head to look at the others.
All four dogs were huddled tightly together with their paws covering their eyes.
“Guys?” Stick Dog asked.
Nobody budged.
“You guys?”
There was not a single movement from Poo-Poo, Stripes, Mutt, or Karen.
“You were supposed to have your eyes wide open, remember?” Stick Dog said, and smiled. “So you could see the exact moment they grabbed me—and then sprint in the opposite direction. Remember?”
Nobody spoke or moved.
“It’s safe now,” he said. “You can open your eyes.”
Finally, Karen answered him. “H-how do w-we know you’re not using w-witch magic to change your voice and sound like Stick Dog?”
“Open your eyes and you can see me.”
They uncovered their eyes and opened them just barely.
“You c-could have transformed yourself from a w-witch into S-S-Stick Dog to t-trick us,” Mutt said, and shook his head. “Or you m-m-might be the g-ghost of Stick Dog.”
“It’s me,” Stick Dog said. He tried to think of a way to convince them when his body made a sound.
Do you know what it was?
It was his stomach.
It grumbled.
“It is him!” Stripes declared and crawled toward Stick Dog. “I’d know that stomach anywhere!”
“Of course it’s me,” said Stick Dog. He pulled himself out from under the car and stood behind it. He was curious about what the witches were doing and wanted to ensure they hadn’t doubled back in a surprise attack. As Stick Dog peeked around the rear bumper to watch them, Stripes, Karen, Mutt, and Poo-Poo gathered behind him.
“Stick Dog, I’m getting really hungry,” Mutt said. “We have to do something.”
“Shh,” answered Stick Dog. “Something strange is going on here.”
He watched as the two witches walked up to the front door. He scanned the neighborhood—the
sidewalks, the driveways, and the front porches of several houses around them. He turned his attention back to the witches, who were now chanting something to the person who had opened the door.
A look of realization came to his face. He watched for another moment and then turned to face his friends.
“It’s okay. Nothing to be scared of,” Stick Dog whispered, and smiled at them. “Back to the fence with the grapevine. We need to make a plan.”
When they got to this safer and more familiar location, Poo-Poo, Mutt, and Stripes came up close to Stick Dog to hear about what he had observed. Karen did not. She meandered back to the grapevines intertwined in the slats of the white picket fence.
“Karen, what are you doing?” Stick Dog asked. “You already searched through there, remember? There weren’t any grapes. Or raisins.”
She looked at Stick Dog and simply answered, “Maybe some have grown since I was here last.”
“Umm,” Stick Dog said, and paused. And then he just said, “Okay.”
As Karen re-submerged herself in another fruitless search for grapes, Stick Dog addressed only Stripes, Poo-Poo, and Mutt.
“Look, you guys,” he began to explain. “I’m starting to think those witches aren’t real. I think they might just be wearing costumes. And there are other humans coming out of their houses wearing costumes too. Most of them are little humans, but there are some big ones too. Only the little ones are dressed up in strange ways.”
Poo-Poo, Stripes, and Mutt scanned the neighborhood. Sure enough, there were nearly a dozen small humans walking around on sidewalks and driveways and standing on front porches. None of them were dressed in regular clothes. There were scary ones—the witches, of course, but also some ghosts and a mummy. And there were others that seemed not as scary—like an astronaut, a cowboy, and a princess.
Under normal circumstances, these strangely dressed humans would have confused and frightened them all terribly. But there was an inflection in Stick Dog’s voice that Stripes, Poo-Poo, and Mutt recognized. He was solving a puzzle. And they knew if he could solve the puzzle, then there was a good chance the reward might be something to eat.
“I have a theory about what might be going—” Stick Dog began, but he had to stop. That’s because Poo-Poo had something vital to say.
“No need to explain things, Stick Dog,” Poo-Poo said with total confidence. “I’ve already figured it all out. I know everything.”
“You do?” asked Mutt, clearly impressed. “Wow. Everything is a lot.”
“That’s right,” Poo-Poo confirmed confidently. “Go ahead. Ask me anything.”
Mutt and Stripes seemed to like the idea of this challenge, relishing an opportunity to stump Poo-Poo. After a few moments of consideration, Mutt asked the first question.
“Can you name three of the five planets in the solar system?”
Poo-Poo tilted his head for a brief moment and then answered, “Wyoming, Orange Ball, and Betty.”
Mutt was obviously surprised. “Impressive,” he whispered.
Stripes took her turn next. “What number comes between three and five?”
Poo-Poo rubbed his chin, bit his lower lip, and tapped his front left paw against the grass several times. This all took twenty or thirty seconds. He didn’t seem totally confident in his answer, but he did give it. He said, “Seven.”
“Whoa,” Stripes said. “You really do know all the right answers.”
“Well,” he said in an attempt at modesty. “I am Poo-Poo, after all.”
“So, umm, seven comes between three and five?” Stick Dog asked. “I guess I didn’t know that.”
Poo-Poo gave Stick Dog a sympathetic glance and said, “You’re probably just not as good a counter as me.”
“I guess not,” Stick Dog said, and smiled a bit. He pointed out to the neighborhood then and asked, “How do you explain all these strange humans here tonight? The witches, the astronaut, and the princess, for instance. What are they doing out here?”
Poo-Poo considered this for several ponderous seconds.
“Well?” Stick Dog asked.
“It’s quite obvious, actually,” Poo-Poo said now that he was pressed for an answer. “The astronaut was flying his spaceship when it crashed into the princess’s castle. His spaceship is now broken, but he needs to get to Planet Betty to complete his mission. Witches can fly on brooms. So he and the princess are going to ask the witches if they can borrow their brooms to fly to Planet Betty. Easy-peasy.”
“Makes sense,” expressed Mutt.
Stripes said, “Totally logical.”
“Well, that’s one explanation,” said Stick Dog. “But I have a slightly different theory.”
“What’s that?” asked Poo-Poo. He couldn’t hide the doubtfulness in his voice.
“I think there’s some kind of bizarre human ritual happening,” Stick Dog theorized. “It appears the little humans go up to the front door of these houses and shout ‘trick or treat.’ Then the door opens and the big humans inside drop stuff in their bags or their orange buckets.”
“The heads are really buckets?” Poo-Poo asked nervously.
Stick Dog nodded.
“But how do you know it’s humans wearing costumes?” asked Mutt. “How do you know the astronaut, princess, and witches are not, you know, an astronaut, princess, and witches?”
“Look at their feet,” Stick Dog said, and pointed out into the neighborhood again. “They’re all wearing sneakers!”
Stick Dog probably would have explained his theory even further, but it was precisely then that something caught Stick Dog’s attention. One witch swung her bucket in a huge arc and a small red packet flew out. It landed softly in the green grass at the edge of the driveway. Stick Dog marked the spot to remember and then turned his head to see Karen rustle her way out of the grapevines.
“Bad news,” she muttered. “There’s not a single grape in that whole mess.”
“You mean none have grown since you last searched?” Stick Dog asked as sincerely as he could muster.
Karen hung her head low and then shook it. She seemed bitterly disappointed with the result of her grape search.
“Karen?” Stick Dog asked. “Can you wait here just a minute? I’m going to go get something.”
She nodded but didn’t look up.
To Stripes, Poo-Poo, and Mutt, he said, “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
With that, Stick Dog inched his way to the picket fence’s final post. He looked left and then right and then left again. He saw several humans, but none were very close—and they all seemed preoccupied with the night’s festivities. It was also growing darker. Stick Dog thought it was safe enough.
He sprinted about three-quarters of the way down the driveway to the exact spot where that red packet had come flying out of the orange bucket. He sifted through the grass for a few seconds with his paws. Stick Dog heard a crackling sound and saw the shiny red packet reflecting the moonlight. He picked it up and hurried back to his friends.
When Stick Dog reached Mutt, Stripes, Poo-Poo, and Karen, he dropped the red packet on the ground. They looked, pawed, and sniffed at it.
“Let’s see what’s inside,” Stick Dog said. “The witches seemed happy to get this, so it must be okay.”
With that, Stick Dog pinned a corner of the packet beneath his front left paw and tore at it with his front right paw. When he did, the red packet ripped open quickly and sprayed several colorful round candies across the ground.
CHAPTER 7
ATTACK OF THE CHERRY PITS
“See these little things?” Stick Dog said, and pointed at a few of the yellow, green, purple, orange, and red balls scattered about on the ground. He pushed a couple around with his paws. They wobbled and rolled around a bit. “These must be candy. I heard the witches talk about it when they passed by.”
Poo-Poo sniffed at one of the red candy balls. “It smells funny,” he whispered after a couple of long sniffs. “It smells sweet and familiar. Do you thi
nk I should taste it, Stick Dog?”
“I think it’s safe,” Stick Dog said immediately. “I’ve been watching the little humans who are out tonight. They reach into their sacks and buckets and eat the stuff they grab.”
“You’re sure?” asked Poo-Poo. He was becoming a little more comfortable with the idea.
“Pretty sure,” Stick Dog answered. “But I’ll go first if you want me to.”
Poo-Poo immediately raised a paw in the air. “That won’t be necessary, Stick Dog. I’m not afraid,” he said as he leaned down to pick up the red Skittle. “I’m really the expert here, as we all know.”
Stick Dog nodded. “Okay, then.”
Poo-Poo gripped a tiny red ball with his lips and lifted it off the ground and into his mouth. You could tell by the movement of his jaw and cheeks that he was rolling it around in his mouth. After several seconds he bit into it and began to chew.
And chew.
And chew.
And then he smiled and chewed some more.
“Well?” Karen, Mutt, and Stripes all asked at once.
“This so-called ‘candy’ is an invigorating blend of high-fructose corn syrup, sugar, and fruity flavoring,” Poo-Poo announced at the start of his description. “I taste perfectly ripe cherries at the front of my palate and a tart but sugary blast against my inner cheeks. This savory and sweet flavor evokes memories from my early days as a puppy on the dairy farm. There was a small orchard there with a few cherry trees.”
“There were cherry trees on the dairy farm, Poo-Poo?” asked Mutt.
“Mm-hmm. Yes, those early days rollicking beneath the cherry trees are easy to remember. In my mind, I can still look up and see those trees. The sun shining and the cherry bunches glistening with clear morning dew. And the . . . and the—”
Poo-Poo suddenly stopped speaking then. His voice had been calm, almost soothing, until that moment. Then a strange, out-of-place grimace came over his face. And his voice turned harsh and angry. “And the . . . and the . . .”
