Crappy Idea
Words by JMD. Image prompted into AI.
A thin legged Doberman, likely crossed with a racing greyhound, looked sheepishly at the customers dining outdoors. The corner of 4th street and Broadway is not where this dog wanted to defecate. It had learned honor from its father at an early age with various lessons that educated on topics like how peeing on the carpet gets one get nipped on the ear
An encouraging voice came from behind: “Come on boy. You can do it.” The owner was readying a plastic shopping bag. The dog’s embarrassment was palpable as it looked around for anyone to intervene and explain how wrong this was. Just a simple comment from a passerby like “hey, the sidewalk isn’t the place dude.” But no one was paying attention. Reluctantly and defeated, he sprawled out his legs, knees shaking, pride wobbling, hovering its rear above the ground. No matter how many times this occurred the dog never got used to it. The owner grabbed each bag handle with respective hands, holding the opening up as well as he could to the dog’s behind, tracking its movement. An act he was clearly getting better at but still not an expert. The dog looked back to make sure that if this was going to happen, the owner was ready, and it would all go straight into the bag.
Jeff furiously took notes as he witnessed this awkward and unique site from his strategically hidden vantage point at the appropriately named Pizza Pizzaz. A new hipster establishment combining casual dining with local art, and an inordinate amount of sequins. He liked to try new places to give him fresh ideas and felt it was particularly fortuitous to pick this particular place on this particular day at this particular time. Jeff stared intently, jotting down words and numbers, drawing images of the scene before him, making sure he got the angles and perspectives right. When the dog and owner finally walked past and into the distance, Jeff looked around to see who else might have witnessed this moment. There was that lady with the green purse, who pulled out a pencil at the same time Jeff did. Luckily it turned out to be an eyeliner. She couldn’t understand why that pale looking man, across the way, was staring so intently at her. Nobody else seemed to be writing anything down, to which Jeff let out a small gleeful ‘yes.’ He finished his final thoughts and closed the notebook. Upon the cover was a handwritten title: “Million Dollar Ideas”.
