While sitting outside on my patio trying to think up an idea for a short story, my dog Franny ambles over with a stick in her mouth.

“Whatcha doing, Raud?” she slurs around her stick like a day drinker.

“Trying to write a love poem,” I answer flippantly, frustrated with my efforts.

“Ahhh,” she coos. “I like thinking of pizza too, but wouldn’t it be easier to just order one? They’ll deliver a pie of love right to our front door. That’ll inspire a lot of love poems. And if you order pepperoni they’ll be spicy love poems.”