Monday, November 10, 2014

The Least Interesting Man in the World


Howdy, strangers. Well, winter has finally set in. That means it's time to get out my enormous collection of sweaters. Gotta hope that this winter won't be as crazy as the last. Gosh darn, it got cold last winter! I had a pipe freeze. Had to call a plumber. Boy, that was expensive. That was a little too much excitement, if you know what I mean.

Boy, strangers, I haven't been up to a lot. Still working the same old job. My boss told me to can it yesterday before I even spoke a word. Seems that he doesn't like my chipper attitude. He's something of a sourpuss, really, though I'd never say that to his face. I'm not sure what his problem is. I work hard, from eight to five. I stay late when he requests me to. I don't sexually harass the women like some of my fellow employees. If you ask me to work on a task, you know I'm going to get it done. Really, I should be getting a promotion by now. But that's not the way the world works, now, is it?

One of the neighborhood children has taken to pooping in my lawn. Right smack dab in the middle of it. I saw him do it once. He just moseyed to the center of the yard, dropped his pants, got down in a squat, and took a poop. I was too flabbergasted to do anything. He didn't even bring toilet paper or anything, just pulled up his pants when he was finished and went over to his friends and gave them a high five. I'll let that sink in for a moment. He didn't wash his hands, folks. I think that was the most shocking thing about the whole incident.


What should I do about this strange development? Should I put a toilet out there for him? Leave a roll of toilet paper and hand soap? Some of you might suggest lying in wait for the pooper, armed with a BB gun or some other relatively harmless armament. I'm not sure I could do it, though. I don't want the neighborhood kids to dislike me. Plus, it wouldn't matter. The neighborhood dogs are all defecating in my yard now. They come in droves, all types: poodles, German shepherds, pit bulls, Labradors, pugs, dachshunds, mutts. They all come to poop, perhaps compelled by the same phantom that motivates my neighborhood children. My yard is resembling a gigantic toilet. I can't step a foot on the grass without encountering a pile of feces.

I sit on the porch, when it is warm enough, and watch. The dogs pay me no mind. The continue with their business, resolution on their furry faces. They do the deed and leave. Why me? I ask the wind. It answers in strange words I cannot comprehend.

Well, I sure hope the weather gets warmer this week. It's a little chilly for November.

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