The Brown Stuff
Occasionally, a practical joke goes awry.
I spent the better part of a week placing a fake turd in various locations within my sister’s home during my recent vacation there. It’s a lot of fun. You should try it. They found it on their living room. It greeted them when they opened their fridge and peered into their microwave. That little piece of poo got around.
But the normal reaction to its visitation might need some work. It spends a lot of time roaming the Wootton household and the schtick has been honed to near perfection.
“Oh SHIT!,” you exclaim.
“What’s wrong? What happened?” is the reply.
In response, you simply display your brown discovery.
Why isn’t this perfect? When your youngest child, still far from his second birthday, comes upon the plastic sausage, picks it up, and proceeds to march around the house. Proudly, he announces his catch with every passing step.
