The Good Citizen

Amin Matalqa
Jul 30, 2017 · 12 min read

A short story by Amin Matalqa — from the upcoming book, Heroes & Idiots

Gary was walking to church when he stepped into a mushy pile of doggy doo Sunday morning. He wanted to yell at somebody but worried his voice could be offensive, so he kept quiet and cursed foul words deep down in his heart. Oh Lord! Who’d be so rude to let their dog poo on our neighborhood sidewalk without picking up all that mush? Gary wiped his shoe against the edge of the curb and lost his appetite as his nose inhaled the smell of you know what.

Next thing he did was throw the shoe away and walk back home with holes ripped in his left sock. Hate to say it, but he skipped church that day (not like anybody cared if he’d show or not). Gary was the kind of dude you pass on the street and don’t say hello to, not because you’re malicious or anti-social, but because something about him warned, “Don’t waste your time.” He was a man of high morals recognized by very few, if anyone at all. At least that was the case until he went to bed that night and thought about all the times he’d stepped in doggy doo over the years and did nothing about it. It occurred to him that there just might be a problem in his neighborhood, a problem that needed a hero with time on his hands, and Gary had plenty of time. He was unemployed.

So what’d he do? He went down to the Dollar Store is what he did, and picked up a box of plastic bags, then came back first thing Monday morning and scooped the shit out of every bit of dog poo that came across his eagle eyes. He canvased the sidewalks and grass, filling up bag after bag with the goodness of his heart. That’s when folks started to notice.

One gal named Mary made him a glass of lemonade and said, “Thanks for doing this, I can’t believe how some people let their dogs get away with this shit!”

Gary gulped his drink and gave her a little squint. Wiped the sweat off his forehead like some fireman on the job, the silent hero type, and said, “Well, I do what I can. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I gotta get back to it.”

Mary chuckled thinking he was flirting, but Gary got back to task without giving her a second thought and spent all day canvasing lawns and filling up bags till there was no room left.

By sundown, Gary had cleaned up the whole neighborhood as if no animal had set foot in it since the mid-90s, and then he went to sleep.

Next morning, he woke up looking to check outside. Found a note on his door from a miscellaneous somebody saying how appreciative they were for all that he did and what an example of good citizenry he was. Come Sunday, people at church (oh, more than just a few) gave him kind looks and nods that made him feel special and good. Someone even asked to shake his hand.

On his way back home, Gary saw Mary waving at him, so he gave her a little smile then looked away as he felt the tingling sensation of a few impure thoughts. He liked the curves around her hips and the way her curly hair bounced when she shook her head. Ankles were nice and thick too. That’s when he stepped in fresh dog poo. With his new Sunday shoe. God Damn! He cursed in his heart. Who’s that going around spreading new diseases and whatnot?

He limped home grumbling almost out loud. Washed his shoe and then went inside to grab a cheap old marker. Made up a sign that yelled “CLEAN UP AFTER YOUR DOG!” He wanted to make more, but the marker dried up, so he attached the sign on a spike and took to the street. Stuck it in some suitable yard he found, then went back inside and watched from his window.

Few minutes later, he sees a kid, maybe 18, walking a brown mutt while fiddling with his phone like teens do today. Had no plastic bags on him, so Gary did what? Followed him out into the street like a secret cop.

Not three minutes later the mutt stops and squats while his owner yaps on his phone and looks away, as if, AS IF! Oh, Gary was pissed. The mutt did number two and that kid on his phone didn’t bother to even look. Thought he was just gonna walk away like, like… “Hey you!” Gary yelled, catching up, “You gonna pick this dung up or you want me to report you?”

“Report me for what?” asked the little shit.

Oh and Gary let it rip, “Your dog pooed all over the yard back there and you just let it sit. Walked away like you’re some kind of aristocrat.”

Old lady Nancy across the street watched from her window as that guy Gary from down the block made Michael, Phil Becker‘s son, pick up the poo after his dog. She was on the phone with Betty and told her all about it.

“Gary, that guy from church?” Betty asked.

“Yeah, he made him pick it up with his own bare hands and throw it in the trash.”

“Finally there’s someone watching over the neighborhood,” said Betty. “Let’s see if the brat will let his dog go poo on other people’s yards again.”

The two ladies hung up and told their other lady friends who told more friends, spreading word like wildfire, and next Sunday at church Gary was a hero.

Gary watched over the block like a royal guard, and when some dude removed that sign he planted in his yard, he bought a fresh new marker at the Dollar Store and made a dozen new signs then stuck them in lawns across the neighborhood.

PICK UP AFTER YOUR DOG NOW!!!! is what they screamed in big red capitals.

Next day, Gary was patrolling the neighborhood on foot when he saw that Mary making eyes at him from her porch. He stopped to fix his shoe as if the lace was untied, and she said, “Hey Gary, you wanna take a break and have a sandwich?”

Cold sweats and knotted tongue is what he felt. She gave him sweet eyes that showed her attraction to that new blue uniform he was wearing (he’d sewn one up the night before). He looked up and was about to say why not when he spotted a dog walker down the block. So, excused himself is what did and followed to see where this was gonna go.

— — — — — — — — -

Sweet Sally was taking her little white bundle of love for a stroll when her jerk boyfriend Hal left her a Dear Sally note in the form of a phone text. Said he decided to pick up and move to the Big Apple to find himself on the stage. Poor Sally wasn’t ready for it when she felt a chill down her spine. There was a man in blue uniform following her. Mimi stopped to do number two and Sally heard this from behind: “Hey lady, didn’t you read the sign? Pick up after your dog!” Mimi wasn’t finished when he yelled all that, and poor frightened Sally pulled out a bag to show that she was gonna.

She waited for Mimi to finish and the officer watched over her head as she handled the warm poo. She walked away avoiding eye contact, when she heard him say, “I’ll be watching you!” She later broke down in tears. What a day she had. Poor Sally.

— — — — — — — — — -

All week, the sun shined on Gary who felt God’s smile kiss his skin every day. He made a chart that kept track of who lived where and what type of dog they owned, plus time of day they took them out for walks. Made careful notes of who pooed where and what kind of food they ate. Had to be more efficient if he was gonna run this whole operation by himself. He’d read in some book that streamlining his process would increase productivity, and increasing productivity would allow him to expand his coverage area from six blocks to twelve. Then he could recruit some volunteers just like they do over at the fire department.

Kind-eyed Harry Wilson was having a garage sale. He tied his dog to a tree when he saw Gary coming. Talked about the weather a little and felt shame in the face of Gary’s scold, about the dog running free just before.

Gary’s eyes scrutinized the grass looking for signs and traces of you know what. Max barked desperate to get off the chain, but Harry wasn’t gonna let him. Rumors were afloat that more than a few people got a good yelling at. Gary was on the right side of the law though, and he was at it full time. Picked up a camera from the basket and asked, “How much for this?” Reluctant, Harry sold it for ten.

Next thing you know, Gary was snapping pics across the hood and improving his charts with visual media on an iPad. Started a database, incorporating age of dog, owner’s full name, Internet public records, and Facebook pictures. Oh, the neighborhood was gonna get cleaner than a fresh whistle.

Word got around and Phil, who volunteered at the fire department, was livid about that Gary making his son Mike pick up fresh poo with his bare hands the other day. So when Phil saw Gary taking pictures of homes across the street, he smelled fish frying, and it wasn’t the pleasant kind.

He followed him walking up and down. Took pictures of Gary taking pictures and the next thing he did was call up an urgent meeting with other folks over at the church. Had to do something about that Gary, he said, scaring people day and night. Old Wendy asked this: “Did you see him with the flashlight patrolling our street last night? Woke up to take my meds at three and there he was outside by my tree, inspecting with his torch, like them Gestapo in those old docs on TV.” Then Hank got up and said he found Gary questioning his dog like he could read canine minds or something, “As if any of this crisis was poor Mr. Wally’s fault. All God’s creatures gotta poo, right?” Rabble rabble, everyone raged in an uproar. “Who is this Gary to say where we let our dogs shit and where we let them pee? So long as we pick up after them, we ought not live in fear!”

While the congregation took place, Gary had fallen asleep and dreamt of his plans for next week. Had to get his flowchart complete and maybe go back and visit that Mary. Have that sandwich she talked about and recruit her if she’d like. He could use the help if he was gonna run for mayor one day. Didn’t do it for the money, no Sir, but really enjoyed the respect he never had, and the smell of pure clean grass.

Woke up in the morning and found Phil and the clan at his door. They said, “Thank you Gary for your hard work and looking out for our hood. You did a hell of a job setting everyone straight.” They had more on their mind, but all kinds of lumps got stuck in their narrow dry throats. Couldn’t quite look Gary in the face. Power of the eye is what that was, and Gary’s eye got to get pretty damn sharp, dissecting their weak souls like one of those laser beams that cut. Had a knowing look on his face, reading their intentions before they even said a word. So Phil made a judgement call and changed the plan. Looked down at his shoes and said this as he stepped back: “Just wanted to let you know, we’re much obliged.”

Gary watched the clan walk away with shame on their shoes, then puffed his chest up on his way over to see that Mary. Lawns in every yard were clean as a new penny, and there she was, waiting for him on her porch with a mug of cold coffee. “Hey Gary,” she said, “You in for some fried eggs?”

He said yes this time, and went inside, inspecting the sanitation of her house. She kept it neat like a mother. Never been with a real man, not since her Pa passed away.

Gary said, “I like them runny,” so she fried three eggs in butter and told him about the sculptures on that mantle over there. Said she made them out of clay when she still saw the muse. Gary did the eating and let her speak, and speak she did, ranting like it was a race before he finished the yellow puss drying up in his plate. Then she stopped and asked about what shampoo he used because dandruff was snowing right into his yoke.

“See that’s the thing,” she said, “you gotta add some oil to your shampoo, that’s what I do.” She brushed some flakes off his shoulder, and next thing you know, they were in bed making babies or trying to break the floor.

Across the block, her moans were heard loud and clear. Everyone got to know that Marry was going at it with Gary who made them live in fear. So, Tuesday morning Angie from down the block showed up at her door when the coast was clear. She sat her down to borrow her ear. Said, “Mary, everyone knows that you got Gary in your bed, but looks like the situation’s got a bit to his head. Pat on Nixon Drive gave up her mutt, Mitt, the one she got at the pound last year. That Gary kept walking behind her every time she left the house. He’s got every dog owner living in fear. Now we came to you because, well, everyone hears your melodious moans when he pays you a visit. Can you talk some sense into him?” Mary said, “I’ll see what I can do. That much I can promise.”

Next time Gary was over, Mary fixed up some coffee with peanut butter on rye just the way he liked it, then flashed her pale thick ankles to get his attention. Oh, she knew how weak in the knees he’d get, and Gary dropped on all fours to get his head under her long black skirt then climbed toward the dark abyss between her thighs like a coal miner on a dig, and she asked if he’s been a little tough with his methods with all those neighbors. He kept his face under her skirt and said not to worry, he knows what he’s doing, besides, he’s got big plans for the two of them and he’s laid out a path to become town mayor, hell, maybe president one day, but didn’t want to get ahead of himself just yet. Then Mary asked if he’d be interested in learning how to make sculptures with her instead. He chuckled and told her about the sculpture he had waiting for her inside his pants. Next thing you know, she was six months pregnant and Gary was ready for some recruits.

He needed recruits to tackle the bigger problem, now that the hood was a hundred percent shit-free. The bigger problem, he declared with all those new signs he posted in everyone’s yard, was dog urine. The stench, he said, was not only bad business for real estate and property value, but also a health hazard with all those germs they carried and what not. If you’re gonna let your dog urinate, then you better train it to use the toilet or keep it in your backyard. Otherwise, surrender your dog to the authorities.

People stopped taking their dogs for public walks and just snuck them out for a quick tinkle before getting caught, which is why Gary needed more soldiers in the field. He knocked on a few doors and asked some kids to volunteer after school, but no one would step up to the plate. No one, until that Phil showed up at Gary’s door one night. Said he’d like to do his part, but first wanted to take him for a quick ride to talk. Gary went along, and that was the last time anyone saw his face.

The sun shined bright the next morning as Phil showed up with large bags of fresh ground meat in the back of his truck. He drove around from house to house distributing equal portions to all the dog owners in the neighborhood and told them these were special treats for their furry friends, who were free to play and roam as they wished from that day forth. The dogs munched happily, though some refused to eat the meat, which smelled like someone familiar.

As for poor pregnant Mary, she spent all her Sunday walking around looking for her man until she stepped into a pile of you know what. And that was the last anyone had seen or smelled what was left of Gary.

Amin Matalqa

Written by

Filmmaker & Short Story writer. Sundance winner:Captain Abu Raed, Disney’s The United, Strangely In Love, The Rendezvous. Dog and film music lover. @AminMatalqa

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