It is my doodie, from time to time, to have a scattelogical posting that piles upon the grasslands of utopia. If I am counting correctly, this might be my turd entry about Mr. Hankey, and I will try to flush it out for all it is worth.
Yesterday, KC went to the doctors wearing my father's clothing. But that is not why I write.
See, Baby and I went for a walk two days ago. She decided to relieve herself in a field of high grasses and a man came by me on a bike yelling that I should pick it up or else he was going to have his dogs poop in my yard. I thought to myself, "Well that would be fine. I've read the book Everyone Poops and I realize that it happens. I'm okay with it."
Still, being a good samaritan, I drove back and picked it up, combing through the high grasses to find the brown bounty. It felt like the right thing to do.
But what happens in this world of karma? Shhhhhhh, it continues to happen to my poor little sister. K dot C dot. Corn Fritters and the need to explain to her young son, "Mommy needs to borrow one of your old diapers."
The End.
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