My dad has drawn up a petition. He says that he doesn't know who to submit the petition to but that it is definitely going to some government official (perhaps in waste management). He says that it is based on several of his days which go as follows:
-get home from work
-go to bathroom...wipe poo
-change 3dub...wipe poo
-change 4dub...wipe poo
-walk D'Brickashaw...pick up poo
For those of you who aren't quite picking up the pattern here, Daddy will sometimes in a day handle 4 different brands of feces. Daddy says that he knows that other people may have to handle more brands than him but they can "make their own damn petition".
Daddy feels that it is wrong that he has to handle so many varieties of the vaunted "Number 2" and that the government should provide funding for him to hire someone to share in some of this burden.
When I told Daddy that one of my friends said that he should stop whining and suck it up, he said that my friend was no longer welcome in our home. He's claiming that if he sees them here, we're gonna "find out the effects of a bag of dung hitting the torso of a small child" (whatever that means...what the hell is a torso?).
Have you ever lifted a garbage bag of dog droppings? Me neither...it's too heavy. I think I might invite my friend over just to see what happens (a sort of science/social experiment).
Curious minds want to know.
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Ahh, little Dubs. I happen to know that your very own Daddy was himself, at an even younger age than you, a Prodigious Producer of Poo. One particular occasion comes to mind (and nose) in which your Daddy covered HIS Daddy's whole chest and tummy (aka torso) with the noxious substance. Methinks that what he is now experiencing is simply life's little payback.
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