put the bag on the sucker's front porch and ring the bell. Then you set the bag on fire and run like hell. When the mark opens the door he sees the bag burning and stomps on it to put it out.'
'And?'
'And then he gets dog shit all over his shoe,' Vinnie said. 'If you did it to these guys and they got dog shit all over their shoes they'd be distracted, and you could drive away.'
'Only we haven't got a front porch,' Lula said.
'Use your imagination!' Vinnie said. 'You put it just behind the car. Then you sneak away and someone from the office here yells out at them that something's burning under their car.'
'I kinda like the sound of that,' Lula said. 'Only thing is, we need some dog poop.'
We all turned our attention to Bob.
Connie took a brown paper lunch bag from her bottom drawer. 'I've got a bag and you can use the empty chicken bucket as a pooper-scooper.'
I snapped the leash on Bob, and Lula and Bob and I went out the back door and walked around some. Bob tinkled about forty times, but he didn't have any contributions for the bag.
'He don't look motivated,' Lula said. 'Maybe we should take him over to the park.'
The park was only two blocks away, so we walked Bob to the park and stood around waiting for him to answer nature's call. Only nature wasn't calling Bob's name.
'You ever notice how when you don't want dog poop it just seems to be everywhere?' Lula said. 'And now when we want some…' Her eyes opened wide. 'Hold the phone. Dog at twelve o'clock. And it's a big one.'
Sure enough, someone else was walking their dog in the park. The dog was big and black. The old woman at the other end of the leash was small and white. She was wearing low-heeled shoes and a bulky brown tweed coat, and she had her gray hair stuffed into a knit hat. She was holding a plastic bag and a paper towel in her hand. The bag was empty.
'I don't mean to blaspheme or anything,' Lula said. 'But God sent us this dog.'
The dog suddenly stopped walking and hunched over, and Lula and Bob and I took off across the grass. I had Bob on the leash, and Lula was waving the chicken bucket and paper bag, and we were running full tilt when the woman looked up and saw us. The color drained from her face, and she staggered backward.
'I'm old,' she said. 'I haven't got any money. Go away. Don't hurt me.'
'We don't want your money,' Lula said. 'We want your poop.'
The woman choked up on the dog's leash. 'You can't have the poop. I have to take the poop home. It's the law.'
'The law don't say you gotta take it home,' Lula said. 'It's just
The big black dog stopped what he was doing and gave Bob an inquisitive sniff. Bob sniffed back, and then he looked at the old woman's crotch.
'Don't even think about it,' I said to Bob.
'I don't know if that's right,' the woman said. 'I never heard of that. I think I'm supposed to take the poop home.'
'Okay,' Lula said, 'we'll pay you for the poop.' Lula looked over at me. 'Give her a couple bucks for her poop.'
I searched my pockets. 'I don't have any money on me. I didn't bring my purse.'
'I won't take any less than five dollars,' the woman said.
'Turns out we don't have any money on us,' Lula said.
'Then it's my poop,' the woman said.
'The heck it is,' Lula said, muscling the old woman out of the way and scooping the poop up in the chicken bucket. 'We need this poop.'
'Help!' the woman yelled. 'They're taking my poop! Stop! Thief!'
'I got it,' Lula said. 'I got it all.' And Lula and Bob and I ran like the wind back to the office with our bucket of poop.
We collected ourselves at the back door to the office. Bob was all happy, dancing around. But Lula and I were gasping for breath.
'Boy, for a while there I was afraid she was gonna catch us,' Lula said. 'She could run pretty fast for an old lady.'
'She wasn't running,' I said. 'The dog was
I held the paper bag open, and Lula dumped the poop into it.
'This here's gonna be fun,' Lula said. 'I can't wait to see those two guys stomping on this bag of shit.'
Lula went around front with the bag and a Bic. And Bob and I went into the office through the back door. Habib and Mitchell were parked curbside, in front of the office, directly behind my Buick.
Connie and Vinnie and I peeked out the front window while Lula crept up behind the carpet car. She put the bag on the ground just past the rear bumper. We saw the lighter flame, and Lula jumped away and scuttled off around the corner.
Connie stuck her head out the door. 'Hey!' she yelled. 'Hey, you guys in the car… there's something burning behind you!'
Mitchell rolled the window down. 'What?'
'There's something on fire behind your car!'
Mitchell and Habib got out to take a look and we all hustled through the door to join them.
'It's just some trash,' Mitchell said to Habib. 'Kick it out of the way so it don't damage the car.'
'It is flaming,' Habib said. 'I do not want to touch a flaming bag with my shoe.'
'This is what happens when you hire a fucking camel jockey,' Mitchell said. 'You people have no work ethic.'
'This is not true. I work very hard in Pakistan. In my village in Pakistan we have a rug factory, and my job is to beat the unruly children who work there. It is a very good job.'
'Wow,' Mitchell said. 'You beat the little kids who work in the factory?'
'Yes. With a stick. It is a highly skilled position. You must be careful when beating the children not to crush their little fingers or they will not be able to tie the very fine knots.'
'That's disgusting,' I said.
'Oh no,' Habib said. 'The children like it, and they make much money for their families.' He turned to Mitchell and shook his finger at him. 'And I work very hard beating the little children, so you should not say such things about me.'
'Sorry,' Mitchell said. 'Guess I was wrong about you.' He gave the bag a kick. The bag broke and some of the debris stuck to his shoe.
'What the hell?' Mitchell shook his foot, and flaming dog shit flew everywhere. A big glob landed on the carpet on the car; there was the hiss of ignition, and flames spread everywhere.
'Holy crap,' Mitchell said, grabbing Habib, falling backward over the curb.
The fire popped and crackled, and the interior went conflagration. There was a small explosion when the gas tank caught and the car was engulfed in black smoke and flame.
'Guess they didn't use one of them flame-retardant carpets,' Lula said.
Habib and Mitchell were pressed flat to the building, mouths open.
'You could probably go now,' Lula said. 'I don't think they're gonna follow you.'
By the time the fire trucks arrived, the carpet car was mostly carcass, and the fire had settled down to wienie- roast size. My Buick was about ten feet in front of the carpet car, but Big Blue was untouched. The Buick's paint wasn't even blistered. The only noticeable difference was a slightly warmer than usual door handle.
'I've got to go now,' I said to Mitchell. 'Too bad about your car. And I wouldn't worry about your eyebrows. They're a little singed right now, but they'll probably grow back. I had this happen to me once and everything turned out okay.'
'What… How…?' Mitchell said.
I loaded Bob into the Buick and eased away from the curb, winding my way around the police cars and fire trucks.
Carl Costanza was in uniform, directing traffic. 'Looks like you're on a roll,' he said. 'This is the second car
