Stick Dog Slurps Spaghetti (9 page)

As soon as that back door cracked open, the dogs ducked and dove behind the empty cardboard boxes across the driveway. Quickly—and safely—concealed there, they peeked out.

They saw one thing—and smelled another.

What they saw was a young female human step out through the doorway. She wore black pants and a white button-down shirt. She leaned against the door to keep it open. She looked behind herself as soon as she was outside, jerking her head over her shoulder to see back inside Tip-Top Spaghetti. As soon as she snapped her head around again, she plunged her hand into her pocket, snagged her phone, and began to press buttons furiously.

When the door opened, Stick Dog and his friends smelled the same aromas—tomato, garlic, oregano—they had smelled before. Only this time it was different.

Way different.

Those aromas—those delicious, hearty, mouth-drooling aromas—were stronger, thicker, and more tantalizing than before. Those scents seemed to pour out through that back doorway in great waves of scrumptiousness. They didn't even need to sniff. The smells washed over them.

“Stick Dog?” Mutt whispered.

“Yes?”

“We have
got
to get some more spaghetti!”

“Like, now!” said Stripes.

“Or even sooner!” added Poo-Poo.

Karen nodded rapidly in agreement.

“Okay,” answered Stick Dog. “I'm working on it. Let's see what this human is doing.”

The girl had her phone to her ear. She tapped her left foot quickly against the pavement. Then instantly her expression changed from nervousness to absolute delight.

“Hi, Crystal! It's Penelope!”

There was a slight pause and silence, then she spoke again.

“Guess what? Johnny called me, like, five minutes ago. He left me a voice mail! OMG! I just had to call my BFF!!”

Another pause.

“I know, right!? Like, OMG, I've only been waiting fifty years for him to call! But I'm totally not into him or anything! Gross. But maybe. I don't know. YOLO!”

Then a different human voice—a male voice—yelled out through the doorway.

“Penelope! Order up! Table seven!”

In a super-fast whisper, she said, “Oh, I have to go. Call you back ASAP. I'm at work! I snuck out. I'll call you right back. TBC. I have to deliver some spaghetti to this guy. He's totally cute! TTYL!”

The girl pressed a button on her phone, shoved it into her pocket, rushed back inside, and the door swung slowly—very slowly—behind her before closing tightly.

Stick Dog saw that the door operated with a large sprocket and hinge at the top. It kept the door from slamming shut. It helped the door close slowly, evenly—and securely.

When the door was closed, Stripes said what all of them were thinking.

“What a wack-a-doodle! Did you hear how she talked? All those letters! What's that about? What's an ‘OMG'?”

“I don't know. The letters must stand for something, I guess,” Stick Dog said quickly, and changed the subject. “Did you guys smell that spaghetti when she opened the door?”

This question did exactly what Stick Dog hoped. Immediately, his friends forgot about what “OMG” might stand for and focused
their minds—and stomachs—on those delicious aromas. There was a warmth and heartiness to the smells.

There was something else too. There was another smell in the air. Stick Dog couldn't quite put his paws on it. It was a heavier scent. It conjured memories of that day when they ate hamburgers in Picasso Park so long ago.

He stopped trying to pinpoint that smell—and that flavor. He remembered what that female human had said. He had precious little time.

“That girl said she'd come back quickly,” Stick Dog said with urgency in his voice. “I have an idea to make that door ajar when she goes back inside the next time.”

“A jar?” Poo-Poo asked.

“That's right, ajar.”

“What's going to be in the jar, Stick Dog?” Karen asked.

“Will there be spaghetti in the jar?” added Stripes.

“And how exactly do you plan to make the door into a jar?” Mutt asked. “Is there some sort of spaghetti magic trick you have in mind?”

“No, no. Umm, sorry,” Stick Dog said as calmly as he could as he turned to make sure the door hadn't opened yet. It hadn't. “‘Ajar' just means slightly open.”

“I get it, I get it,” Poo-Poo said. “You guys just don't know as many words as Stick Dog and I, that's all. What Stick Dog is saying is that he's going to turn the door into a jar with his special spaghetti magic trick—and the lid to the jar will be slightly open so we can eat all the spaghetti inside.”

“Oh, it all makes sense now,” said Karen.

Mutt and Stripes nodded their understanding as well.

“No, umm, that's not quite it,” said Stick Dog. “Forget the whole jar thing. I have a plan to keep the door—”

“If we forget the whole jar thing,” Stripes interrupted, suddenly distraught. Then she asked, “Where will we find the spaghetti?! It was going to be
inside
the jar!”

“There's no jar,” Stick Dog said. He was trying to figure out the best way to move things along. “Umm, I don't know what I was talking about. I'm sorry. My fault.”

“Stick Dog,” Karen said sincerely. “You should really try to get hold of yourself. You seem very confused all of a sudden. You're getting doors and jars mixed up. You didn't even know that we reached the top of the hill earlier. And it took you quite a while to grasp the simplicity of my plan before. I mean, climb into the skillet, burn our butts, soar to the top of the hill—pretty easy stuff. Yet you didn't seem to recognize the simple genius of it all.”

“You're right,” Stick Dog said to Karen. He knew he had to hustle. “I'm just a little out of it, I guess. But right now we need to hurry. That girl is—”

“The one that talks funny?” asked Poo-Poo.

“The one who's all lovey-dovey, kissy-face
about Johnny?” asked Karen.

“Don't be disgusting,” Stripes said.

“Right, the one that talks funny. Umm, the one who was talking about Johnny,” Stick Dog confirmed. “I think she's going to come back out any minute to talk on her phone again. When she does, we'll be ready.”