Smell Like a Dog

    "Marion, come on...I already asked you not to put the Mason jars of excrement next to the Dandelion." I can feel the impatience welling up in my core. She doesn’t seem to understand I’m nearing the end of my entrepreneur’s rope! 

     "I heard you the first time Arthur. I was just setting it up this way to throw off that 'Olfactory Group'. You know they’re out to get you, after the whole ‘If Only I Had Thumbs’ debacle.”

     “Shh...people are approaching. No one will connect my face with that ‘incident’. I only posted dog images on the blog with my pen name. Besides, who knew there were so many freaks out there that would blow it up so big?” 

     Bringing her, as an assistant may have been my biggest mistake yet, but she is pleasant enough looking with her rosy cheeks, and bright blue eyes and, we’ve been friends since grade school. I thought having her with me, might counteract my gangly-looking physique, and the blasé attitude I can’t seem to help. 

     “Oh look Mommy, candles! You love candles. Can we get one?”  Cute kid...come on Mommy... Get the kid a candle.

    “Hold on sweetheart, not so fast. We have to smell them first to see if there are any we want our home to smell like—that’s what being a candle enthusiast is all about.” Please do not pick up the dog crap candle! “You’ll have to excuse Beatrice here. She’s just well, energetic. Now Beatrice, put that down. I told you not to touch things on the tables. Wait for Mommy’s permission.” Yes, Beatrice...put that one down.

     “Not a problem Ma’am. If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your name?” She looks uptight, but her blonde hair and fit body check the boxes...just my type.

“I’m Karen, and you are?” She’s holding out her gloved hand, odd, to shake—must be trying to teach the freckle-faced rug-rat some manners. “What is your most popular scented candle...something floral perhaps?” Marion pushes past me, and grabs a candle from the floral side of the booth.

     “Hi! I’m Marion. How about this one—its Jasmine.” 

Karen grabs Beatrice by cupping her ears between her hands. “You do know that one is for love-making, do you not?” 

     “Umm, no I didn’t realize...I apologize.”

     “Marion, please back up...Karen, I am so sorry. Marion is not aware of the finer points of candling...I mean, candle scents.”

     “Oh, I never! In front of my daughter, you offer me this elicit-smelling candle, and then speak of candling! I should report your booth to the Expo Authorities!”

     “Ma’am, please. This was all a misunderstanding. I think I speak for Arthur when I say feel free to pick out any candle you’d like on the house.”  I must, fire her after this.

     “Well, not any candle. Please Karen, peruse this side of the table where you’ll find scents of Lavender, Dandelion, Rose Oil, Patchouli, Gardenia, and Lilac. “

     “And what of this side of the table?” She’s headed toward the muskier scents, oh no! I can’t have this drama queen wrecking me from the very start of the Expo. 

     “ Excuse me Karen, this young man would like to check out the non-floral candles first, if you don’t mind.”

Phew! Good save. A pre-teen looking boy with braces and acne approaches the booth with his hands in his pockets. He may have a better appreciation for the Bacon, Rag Grass, Toe Jam, Sweaty Sneaker, Worn Underwear, and the Excrement Candle scents.

     “Cool...hey Mom, over here! These are awesome! Can I get one?” He’s planting his face over each one of them, and can’t seem to get enough. Uh oh, Karen seems interested. Still...I may have found my niche customer.

     “Let me smell first Tommy...ew! Ga...ga...ga-I think I’m going to throw up!” His dark headed mom is holding her stomach with one hand while bent over the side of my booth’s table. Tommy is laughing his little butt off. Obviously, he loves it...but his hands are still in his pockets. Marion jumps in front of me again.

     “Ma’am, these candles are, for well, a certain kind of enthusiast. You see, in the canine world, these scents are exquisite. They are meant to please one’s pets—dogs especially. Please don’t take offense. They are ‘Pet-Friendly’ offerings.” For once, she didn’t put her foot in her mouth...I may find use for her on my team after all.

     “Mom, Chester would love these! We have to get at least one...please?” Tommy's mom seems to have recovered.

     “Chester is our Beagle-Blue Tick Hound mix. He has a nose that gets him into so much trouble. He eats our trash every chance he gets, not to mention the crotch out of my underwear, and God forbid someone leaves the toilet seat up!” Karen's listening from the other side of the table and looks as if she’s ready to explode.

     “Why on earth, would you put up with such a beast in your home?” It doesn't tame Beatrice, who is jumping up and down like she’s going to pee her pants.

“ Mommy, Mommy, I want a dog! Can we get a dog?” Normally I would interject here, seeing how dogs are the greatest creatures on earth, but somehow I sense a powder keg...and I’m not going to be the match.

     “Shh...Beatrice! Adults are talking,”  says Karen as she scratches rigorously behind her left ear—psychological tick perhaps?

     “I don’t see how our home life is any of your business,” says Tommy’s Mom.  “And, it looks like you should think about getting your daughter a pet before she becomes a recluse one day—or worse yet, learns to ‘follow’ a bad influence on the Internet. Their minds are not capable of sound decision at this point. A pet can go a long way, even ‘if’ we have to put up with them!” 

     Oh no, the gauntlet has been thrown down. Marion begins to step in, until I throw my arm out to block her approach. I look over my shoulder into her eyes with a pleading look as if to say, “Keep your medalling mouth shut!”  

     The two women’s faces are turning red as they face off in front of my booth. Karen’s mouth is quivering, almost as if she’s panting inside it, while forcing herself to keep it shut. Nonetheless, she’s ready to blast Tommy’s Mom, who has her fists firmly on her hips, until right through the middle of them—up walks a group of green-jersey-wearing, straight faced twenty something’s. 

     Their jerseys have the capital letters “OG” and the words "scratch me" written on the front. One near the front turns and loud-whispers to another member in the back, “I think it’s him!” The words “sniff me” are on the back of her jersey, great—the Olfactory Group. Marion is standing beside me with a look of terror in her eyes. One, with thick black-rimmed glasses steps in front of the others, rubbing under his chin and studying my booth.

     “And what, do we have here? Your banner claims ‘The most authentic-smelling candles available’. We shall see about that.”

     With black-gloved hands, he picks up the Mason Jars my candles are poured into, one by one drawing in a deep nasal breath, with his eyes closed— and then passes them through the crowd of the OG group. None of the rest of them wears gloves, and most take the jars in only one hand. No one flinches at the scent of corn, barely and raw meat mixed with my patented formula of bile scent—a master reproduction of dog excrement. It took a special preservative to keep the meat from ruining the candle. No regurgitating, no furrowed brows...not even one negative review! Even Marion’s lips spring a relieved smile as she takes in the display of acceptance. And then...she can’t help herself.

     “Would you like to try out our floral scents next?” She’s beaming and bouncing with excitement, as if to offer to cleanse their nasal pallets.  Black rimmed glasses throws up a gloved hand and begins to speak.

     “Please! This is not a ‘Wine-Tasting’. Who do you think we are? Better yet, who do you think you are?”

“I think I know who he is...he’s Fido!” says the loud whisperer, now bouncing like a cheerleader and pointing at me, from the back of the fifteen green-shirted OG’s. Karen's attention seems peaked, as she pushes Black-rimmed glasses out of the way like a rag doll.

     “Is it true? Is that who you are?” I can’t make out her expression. The up-tight princess, mother of Beatrice seems to be smiling, but she’s also ticking her head-disturbingly to one side and wiggling her backside slightly. Tommy’s mom on the other hand, looks distraught, and enraged at the same time.  A slight feeling of “celebrity” blooms inside me, but looming just behind it, is adrenaline-meant for running. 

     “Excuse me! I was talking.” Says black-rimmed glasses, the leader of the OG club, as he pushes Karen back out of the way. “I...I mean we are all enthusiasts. We just had to sniff your work for ourselves. There were rumors going around in the OG group that you might be Fido, but we couldn’t actually believe you were going to be him!” He whips off his gloves and puts his two four-fingered hands up as he beams a broad grin at me. Marion and I look at each other and swallow. She’s as perplexed as I am.

     “Wait! I was here first...look!” Karen whips off her gloves and the left hand has only four fingers. “I’m an enthusiast too! I had to keep the right thumb—I’m right handed, and it just wasn’t practical to loose them both. You understand...right?” 

     Seventeen sets of eyes search my face for an expression...for an answer to their acceptance of something, that I did not ask, any them to do! I only wrote the blog to have dog owners imagine what the world would be like for their dogs if they had thumbs, and not what the world would be like if humans didn't!

It had become empathy and insanity run amok, and now, they know what I look like! Several of the Green Jerseys are videotaping and taking photos—great! Meanwhile, Tommy’s face is glued toward the floor as his mother digs frantically in her purse. 

    I raise both, of my five fingered hands— “I have to say something here. First of all thank you for your support of my candle business. However, I never intended the sacrifice of one’s pollex with that blog.” 

     “Oh yeah? Well too late for that!” Tommy’s mom is clearing the crowd with her gun which is pointed right at me! “Take your hands out of your pockets Tommy, and show them what this man made you do! And you, Miss goody two shoes, who won’t even get your daughter a pet, I can’t believe you...followed this sicko’s blog!”

     “I...I couldn’t help it! He popped up because of my other searches. ‘If only I had thumbs’? How could I help myself? You see—I’m a super-empath. And you! Tommy's "Mom", stop judging me about not getting my daughter a dog! My therapist says a dog would be too dangerous for me... you know they don’t live a long life!” She’s beginning to sob, and scratch at her arms—no tail wagging this time.”Beatrice turns and wraps her arms around her mom’s legs. “We don’t have to get a dog Mommy, it’s okay.” 

     Tommy pulls his hands out of his pockets, finally-then holds them up and looks at me impishly. He still has half of his thumbs. I feel my tears begin to well up, a rare occurrence...I don’t know the right thing to say to people with mental conditions, much less when they’re children, obviously.

I didn’t have to—the OG girl, who had outed me to the rest of the crowd, steps forward and lowers herself to Tommy’s level. “Hey little man, these aren’t so bad. Look they’re just shorter and without finger nails but they are still useful...right?”

     Tommy smiles and picks up a candle—the “Worn Underwear”, and speaks. “Mom can you please put your gun away, and give Mr. Fido ten dollars for this candle? Chester might stay in my room and out of your hamper if I light this one.”  What a great kid.

     “No Tommy, it’s on the house, that is if your Mom will let you have it.” Though I’m not sure the scent of female pheromones are a good idea for a pre-teen boy, it seemed the best way to diffuse the crowd. I have candles to sell. 

Transfixed by her son's smiling face, her tense expression appears to be softening. She looks up to see hoards of people have formed beyond my booth-who are staring at her with bulging eyes...and frozen with fear. Now out of her rage and back to reality, she stows her gun safely inside her purse, and takes Tommy’s hand before he can jam it back into his pocket.

I wrap the candle inside a gift bag with my logo "Smell Like a Dog" and hand it to Tommy-"Here you go, please enjoy"-I'm not sure what else to say.

"Thanks Fido", says Tommy, gripping the "Worn Underwear" candle in his free hand, as they part the crowd. There goes my first customer. Chester will be pleased.