Sh*tty Sh*tty Bang Bang!

Shit happens to each and every one of us. But when it happens to me, it's not metaphorical or metaphysical. No, it's literal. And it's steamy, stinky, and slimy, too.

I had woken earlier than anticipated. Eyes flashed open and noted the low sun on the ceiling. Nostrils flared and drew in the airy promises of the day. Ears perked to the frantic whining of my nowhere-to-be-seen dog.

I could almost taste that something wasn't right...And it was then that all my senses sensed the putrescent odor of fresh morning doo.

I leapt to my feet and sheets went a-flying. Eyes darted every which way for visual confirmation of a poonomaly...Nostrils quivered in constipation...And I just about wretched as I took in the full fury of the belly of the beast. And there, cowering by the windowsill, was my dog. In a sudden rage, I grabbed his scruff and hurried him out into the cheerful and sunny world at large.

It would have been one thing if he'd left his gift(s) in an isolated corner of my room. But, nooooooo! My dog left me 3 in-between-liquid-and-solid masses of dog-bottom molasses--all of them scattered about and smiling up at me and having a gay ol' time on my floor. And the icing on the proverbial cake: my beloved Golden Child left another 1 solid pile on the bathroom linoleum.

If only it had all been done in the bathroom....


I was mistaken to think that I wouldn't feel like shit when I woke up on the Sixth of May. No, I felt nothing but shit.


End.