Nine Doors Read Free Page B

about.”
    â€œBio-waste? You know—doggy-doo, canine ca-ca...”
    â€œI know what it is! I just don’t understand how it could have inspired you—or anybody else, for that matter.”
    He took the camera away from his face and sighed. I guess I was being dense.
    â€œPlease. It’s the oldest trick in the book! You put the fecal matter in a brown paper bag. You place the brown paper bag on the porch. You light the bag on fire. You ring the doorbell. You run. When the homeowner opens the door, they see the fire. They put it out with the first thing they can find— which, generally speaking, is their foot.” He let this sink in for a second.
    I got it. I laughed. He was right. It was a funny idea.
    This wicked smile spread over that angelic face of his.
    â€œIf we’re
really
lucky,” he said, “they’ll remember the immortal words of the fire safety pledge...”
    I knew exactly where he was going with this. We both said it together.
    â€œStop, drop and roll!”
    We cracked up. The image of that guy in his apron rolling over a flaming doggie bag was just too much for me.
    I was laughing so hard I didn’t even notice Richard had moved on to other things. He’d pulled a paper bag out of his knapsack. He dumped the Choco-Nutz bar inside it onto the ground.
    â€œYou just
happen
to have a paper bag with you?” I said, wiping the tears from my eyes.
    â€œYeah. So?” He made it sound like the most natural thing in the world. “I’m a good Boy Scout—always prepared.”
    He picked up a couple of twigs as if they were chopsticks and started trying to drop the poop into the bag. (It was harder than it sounds.) “Shall we give it a go?” he said.
    â€œWhat? No!” I said. “You’re not actually serious!”
    He stuck his neck out at me. “Why not? You seemed to think it was funny.”
    â€œYeah, but...” I just looked at him with my mouth hanging open. I didn’t know whereto start. Setting fire to a bag of doggie droppings was just so wrong on so many levels.
    â€œYe-es?” He said it like a challenge, as if only an idiot would disagree with him.
    â€œOkay, for starters...,” I said but then had to stop. “Would you quit playing with it for a second so I can think straight?” Seriously. What was wrong with the guy? He was like a kid with a new tub of play dough.
    He said, “Oooh, sorry,” under his breath and then stuck the twigs into the mound like two little antlers. “I didn’t realize you were so sensitive.”
    I let that go. I tried again. “Okay. For starters, it’s full of germs. It’s gross!”
    â€œThat’s the whole point!” he went. “All the popular movies are gross. That’s what makes them funny!”
    He snorted at my stupidity. I snorted right back.
    â€œMovies aren’t gross. They just
look
gross. Newsflash, Richard: It’s make-believe. They use props. You think Adam Sandler or Will Ferrell would actually roll around in...in...that?” I pointed.
    Richard looked down and smiled at the pile as if it was too cute to actually do any harm. After a while he shrugged and went, “Okay, fine. No biggie. So we won’t use it.”
    He smiled.
    â€œWe’ll use stunt poo instead.”
    I laughed—but Richard was apparently serious. He picked the chocolate bar off the grass and unwrapped it. It was starting to melt. He squished it with his hands and kind of bent it so it wasn’t perfect. He put it on the grass beside the real thing. If you knew what it was, it still looked like a chocolate bar, but if you didn’t...
    Now I really laughed.
    â€œSo,” he said, licking the chocolate off his hands. “Problem solved?”
    â€œNo,” I said. “You’re still lighting it on fire. That’s dangerous.”
    Richard threw back his head and groaned. “Look. Do you want to