Stick Dog Slurps Spaghetti Read online

  DEDICATION

  Dedicated to Michael (65 ROSES)

  CONTENTS

  Dedication

  Chapter 1: Cheez Doodles

  Chapter 2: Perfectly Proportioned

  Chapter 3: Slurp-Off

  Chapter 4: Lassos and Teamwork

  Chapter 5: Hot-Air Balloons. Correction: Striped Hot-Air Balloons

  Chapter 6: A Giant Skillet

  Chapter 7: A Big Penguin

  Chapter 8: Bite, Chomp, and Chew

  Chapter 9: Penelope Loves Johnny

  Chapter 10: Hide-and-Seek. Correction: Hide

  Chapter 11: Plop

  Chapter 12: Tasty Shoes

  Chapter 13: The Third Pot

  Chapter 14: Let’s Roll

  Back Ad

  About the Author

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  CHAPTER 1

  CHEEZ DOODLES

  Stick Dog was on his belly inside his pipe. Karen, Mutt, Stripes, and Poo-Poo all huddled closely to him. The dogs had stopped searching for food more than an hour ago. They retreated with empty stomachs to Stick Dog’s pipe and positioned themselves side by side to generate extra warmth.

  Karen, the dachshund, asked, “How long has it been?”

  “How long has it been since what, Karen?” Stick Dog asked.

  “How long has it been since we had some food?”

  Stick Dog thought about it for a minute. He cast his eyes up to the gray metal ridges on the ceiling of his pipe. “It was last night. Remember? We found a bag of Cheez Doodles behind the mall.”

  “Ergh!” Poo-Poo snarled low and hard at the memory. “I wouldn’t even call those things food, Stick Dog. They were more air than anything. You take a bite, and that orange, puffy caterpillar thing just evaporates.”

  “I agree,” Stripes chimed in. “Let’s not call Cheez Doodles food. Things that are more air than flavor shouldn’t count.”

  Can I ask you something?

  Wait. You remember that I can interrupt now and then, right? Yeah, it’s part of our deal. I get to mention little things that bug me or interest me. It’s usually just something from the story that gets me thinking. So here’s what I’m thinking about right now.

  What the heck are Cheez Doodles anyway?

  You know what I’m talking about, right?

  Those things that are puffy, curly, and really bright orange?

  How do they make those things?

  I think maybe it’s like popcorn. The corn kernel starts out tiny but then blows up to make light, fluffy popcorn.

  Maybe they take a little piece of cheese, blow it up with nuclear energy or something, and—Shazam!—Cheez Doodle.

  It would be awesome to work in a Cheez Doodle factory and blow up cheese every day. Plus I’d get to work with nuclear energy.

  And I bet I’d get free Cheez Doodles.

  Imagine that. Free Cheez Doodles. All day.

  I even like saying “Cheez Doodle.”

  Cheez Doodle. Cheez Doodle. Cheez Doodle.

  I can eat a million of those things. You know why? Stripes is right—they are more air than food.

  “Okay, then,” said Stick Dog. “If Cheez Doodles aren’t food, then I suppose the last time we ate was yesterday morning. We found those hamburger buns at Picasso Park under that picnic table.”

  Karen, Stripes, and Poo-Poo all nodded in agreement.

  Mutt, however, did not. He stood up and walked a few steps away and turned his head from the others.

  “Mutt?” Stick Dog asked. “What is it? It looks like something is troubling you.”

  Mutt turned his head to face Stick Dog. Then he lowered his chin and stared down at the floor of the pipe. “It’s just—” he began. But he stopped himself.

  Stick Dog smiled. Mutt was the largest of them all. He tended to lumber when he ran. He shook Stick Dog’s pipe when he plopped down to relax. He had a deep voice and a slow, friendly way of speaking. Stick Dog suspected he was about to see another example of Mutt’s sensitive side.

  Stick Dog tried again. “Just what, Mutt?”

  This was the final nudge of encouragement Mutt needed. He answered, “It’s just that I ate something else yesterday—that you guys didn’t.”

  “WHAT?!” Poo-Poo yelled.

  “You didn’t share!?” yelped Stripes.

  “Mutt, oh, Mutt,” Karen said. She sighed and shook her head slowly back and forth.

  Stick Dog held up a paw as quickly as he could to quiet the others. He thought there was probably more explanation to come. “It’s okay, Mutt,” he said. “What was it? What did you eat?”

  “Some rope,” Mutt said, and finally turned to his friends before hanging his head again. “I found it behind the hardware store on Highway 16.”

  “You’re the only one of us who eats rope, Mutt,” Stick Dog said, and smiled. “We wouldn’t have wanted any.”

  “You guys don’t eat rope?” Mutt asked.

  They all shook their heads.

  “Boy, you don’t know what you’re missing,” Mutt said. He felt better already. “Well, I’m still sorry I ate it. I wanted to bring it back so we could play tug-of-war.”

  “Tug-of-war! I love tug-of-war!” Karen exclaimed immediately. “It gives me a chance to show off my mighty dachshund power! Do you still have it? Can we play now? Can we?!”

  Poo-Poo and Stripes thought a game of tug-of-war sounded like a fun idea too. Even Stick Dog seemed intrigued by the prospect. It would be, he suspected, a terrific distraction from their hunger.

  Mutt shook his head as he answered and explained. “No, we can’t play now. I ate the whole thing. I was going to bring it back, but while I carried it in my mouth, I tasted some of those loose strings on the end. You know, the frayed threads at the end of a piece of rope? I love those things. I just had to stop and chew on them. And before I knew it, the rope was gone.”

  “The whole thing?” Stripes asked. “There’s nothing left to play with?”

  “I’m sorry,” Mutt said. He seemed truly sad about the entire thing. “Sometimes, I just can’t help chewing and swallowing things. It wasn’t very nice of me. I could try to find another piece of rope. Maybe I have some stuck in my fur that I forgot about.”

  Mutt immediately began to shake, and several things—including a bottle cap, two pencils, an empty potato chip bag, and a red mitten—shot quickly out from his fur.

  But there was no rope.

  The disappointment on Mutt’s face was clear. He felt like he had let down his friends. Poo-Poo, Stripes, and Karen were discouraged too. They wanted to play tug-of-war.

  Stick Dog knew he had to do something to lift their spirits. They were all hungry. There was no rope to play with. Mutt felt terrible about eating the rope—and now consoled himself by chewing on the mitten.

  “You know what?” Stick Dog declared to the group. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to play tug-of-war so badly in my life. All this talk about it has made me remember just how fun it is.”

  He smiled and looked at his friends. He focused on Karen last.

  “I bet I could beat you in tug-of-war,” he said, and pointed at her.

  “NO WAY!” she screamed. She hopped up and down at the challenge.

  “Let’s try to get another piece of rope and find out,” Stick Dog suggested.

  “Great idea!” Mutt declared after dropping the mitten from his mouth. “And I promise not to eat this one!”

  Karen, Poo-Poo, and Stripes thought it was an excellent idea too. They followed Stick Dog, hurrying off to the hardware store, where Mutt had found that first length of rope.

  Stick Dog knew his friends’ attention had already turned away from th
eir lack of food. What he didn’t know was this: their search for rope would lead them to something utterly delicious.

  CHAPTER 2

  PERFECTLY PROPORTIONED

  “Okay, Mutt,” Stick Dog said as they skid to a stop behind the hardware store. The sun had set. Stick Dog noted that the lights were off in the store, and he scanned the area for humans. It looked plenty safe. “Where did you find that piece of rope yesterday?”

  “Right over there,” Mutt answered, and pointed. “By the corner of that Dumpster. On the ground.”

  They trotted over to the Dumpster and looked all around. They found two bottle caps, a dented soda can, and a dried-up marker—but no rope.

  Mutt tucked the bottle caps, soda can, and marker into his fur for safekeeping.

  “Karen?”

  “Yes, Stick Dog? What can I do for you?”

  “Can you take a look under the Dumpster for another piece of rope?”

  “You want me to dive under the Dumpster?”

  “If you don’t mind,” replied Stick Dog. “I think you’re the only one of us who can fit comfortably under there.”

  “Humph!” Karen said, and exhaled loudly. “Are you saying I’m short?! Is that what you’re implying?”

  Stick Dog paused a few seconds before answering. He appeared to be carefully contemplating his response.

  “Not at all,” he said. “I’m saying you’re perfectly proportioned for this task.”

  “Perfectly proportioned?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Perfectly?”

  “Yes.”

  “Perfect?”

  “Correct.”

  Karen smiled and dove toward the edge of the Dumpster. She squished and squiggled herself past the bottom edge, squirming and squashing herself with great determination and conviction. Once past the edge there was plenty of room underneath the Dumpster. Karen was more comfortable and able to stand up.

  Stick Dog, Mutt, Stripes, and Poo-Poo stood at the edge of the Dumpster waiting for Karen’s report.

  “Anything?” Stick Dog called after a minute.

  “You were right, Stick Dog,” Karen called back. “I really am just the right size for a job like this. None of you giant behemoths could fit under here.”

  Stick Dog grinned a bit. “That’s certainly true.”

  “I mean, I was just looking at myself under here,” Karen said proudly. “My length and my shape are quite unique. I can explore strange new places—like under this Dumpster. I can boldly go where no dog has gone before. I can fit where no other dog can fit. I’m truly an amazing canine specimen.”

  “You certainly are right about that,” confirmed Stick Dog.

  “Imagine—just imagine—if one of you humong-a-saurs tried to get under here,” Karen said, and giggled. She seemed to be visualizing just such a thing. “It would be ridiculous. I’d have to pry you guys out with a crowbar.”

  Stick Dog said, “I suppose you would.”

  “What was the word you used?” Karen asked from beneath the Dumpster.

  “When?”

  “When you wanted me to come under here. When you were describing me?”

  “‘Proportioned’?”

  “No. Something else.”

  “‘Perfectly’?”

  “That’s it!” Karen yelped. “Perfect! Yessiree! I like that word, all right.”

  “I do too,” Stick Dog said, and smiled—he couldn’t help himself. He loved how quickly Karen’s mood had changed.

  “Stick Dog?”

  “Yes?”

  “Why am I under here again?”

  Stick Dog shook his head ever so slightly. “You’re looking for a piece of rope. Remember?”

  “We all want to play tug-of-war,” Poo-Poo said, trying to help.

  “I ate the last rope,” called Mutt to refresh her memory.

  “Oh, right. Rope,” Karen said. You could tell she was turning her head all around to search for rope now that she remembered. She kept bumping the top of her head against the bottom of the Dumpster.

  Stripes wanted to know how Karen’s search was going. “Anything?” she called.

  “No. Nothing. Just an old Styrofoam container. I’ll push it out.”

  “Shoot.” Mutt sighed. “I really wanted to find some rope to play with. And you know, I wanted to eat it when we were done playing.”

  “You would eat some more rope?” Stripes asked.

  “Sure,” Mutt answered immediately. “It provides great chewing satisfaction—and it tastes pretty good too.”

  Karen used her nose to nudge the Styrofoam container all the way out from beneath the Dumpster. She squeezed out right after it.

  “No rope. Just this thing,” she said, and bumped her nose on the box’s lid to point at it. When she did, it popped open. It happened so quickly they didn’t even notice the words and picture on the lid.

  All five dogs leaned down and peered inside.

  They couldn’t believe their eyes.

  “Ropes!” Mutt exclaimed.

  CHAPTER 3

  SLURP-OFF

  “Those are awfully skinny ropes,” Stick Dog said. You could tell he didn’t quite believe what he was looking at were ropes at all. “And there are only a few of them.”

  “Skinny ropes. Fat ropes. Who cares?” Karen said. “And we only need one to play tug-of-war.”

  Stripes said, “They’re covered in red stuff.”

  “Red stuff. Blue stuff. Who cares?” Karen yelped. “Let’s play!”

  And then, without hesitation, Karen leaned down to get one of the long, skinny objects. She was the shortest, after all, and didn’t have that far to reach. She wrapped her lips around the end of one of the skinny ropes that stuck out a bit—and pulled. It seemed to be tangled up with three or four other thin, flimsy strands.

  Karen pulled a little harder, and the rope seemed to loosen. Then, instead of pulling at it, Karen sucked at it. The skinny rope splattered small splotches of red stuff and then broke free.

  And disappeared.

  Completely.

  “Where’d it go?!” Poo-Poo asked.

  They all looked at Karen.

  She did a fantastic and glorious thing.

  Do you know what she did?

  She chewed.

  And then she chewed some more.

  She swallowed.

  And then she smiled.

  “Mutt!” she screamed. “You’re right! Ropes taste GREAT!!”

  That was all Stripes, Mutt, and Poo-Poo needed to hear. They all reached down, clenched a strand between their lips, and slurped.

  Stick Dog waited until everyone had a turn, then he took the final skinny, limp rope for himself.

  “Whoa!” was the first thing anyone said.

  It was Mutt.

  “This rope tastes WAY different—and WAY better—than the rope I ate yesterday. I can’t even describe how much more flavorful these ropes are.”

  “I can,” said Poo-Poo. He then went into a trance-like stillness.

  The others knew exactly what would happen next. Poo-Poo would relay his own specific thoughts and descriptions about this newfound food. They stopped chewing momentarily to listen.

  “It’s a stringy, starchy, scrumptious treat,” Poo-Poo began. His nose was elevated slightly as he pondered and spoke. “There’s a substantive, almost bread-like strength to the strings. And there’s a heartiness and freshness to the red splotches. I’m reminded of that glorious evening when we discovered what pizza was. Do you remember that tomato goodness that was spread beneath the layer of cheese? This red flavor is much like that red flavor. I taste salt and pepper, sure. But there’s a deeper level of spice and flavor here. I get hints of oregano, garlic, and onion on the back of my palate. It’s a filling, tasty, stringy delight.”

  Poo-Poo then lowered his head and looked at the others one at a time.

  Stick Dog spoke for them all. “Well said, Poo-Poo. Well said.”

  With that, they licked their lips
and whiskers, attempting to capture any final specks that might have splattered from their slurping.

  Do you like slurping?

  I do.

  Do you know what a “Slurp-Off” is?

  You don’t?

  I’ll tell you.

  It’s a contest. Well, more like a game really.

  Here’s how it works.

  Get some spaghetti noodles.

  Cook them. You know, boil them in water. Mom boils mine for me. Maybe one of your parents can boil a bunch for you. Mom won’t let me boil my noodles myself—even though I’m totally old enough. Whenever I want to cook something on the stove, Mom says, “Remember the flaming dish towel incident?”

  Anyway, a Slurp-Off works like this: You get a bunch of cooked noodles that are the same length. You put some tomato sauce on them. Then you get a friend and challenge them to a Slurp-Off.

  Whoever slurps the most noodles the fastest is the winner.

  Now, if Stick Dog and his pals were having a Slurp-Off, they would have tied. That’s because each dog got just one noodle each. They did still get pretty messy though.

  Stripes licked some of the red stuff from her whiskers and lips. A wicked and mischievous grin came to her face. She asked the others, “What’s black and white and red all over?”

  Mutt answered, “A zebra with a sunburn.”

  “A penguin with the chicken pox,” guessed Poo-Poo.

  Karen said, “A banana dipped in chocolate!”

  “No. No! Those are all good guesses though!” exclaimed Stripes. She was noticeably thrilled that everyone was so interested in her riddle. “Stick Dog, do you have a guess?”

  He shook his head and smiled. The truth is that he did have a guess. And he was pretty sure he knew the answer. But he wanted Stripes to have the chance to supply the punch line. “Karen said what I was going to guess.”