Poop
does not abide by the laws of gravity
I heard screaming from downstairs, my daughter wailing,
“Daddy come look at this!” Sounded like the typical 50-times-a-day emergency
drill. When I arrived downstairs I saw nothing out of the ordinary. “What is
it,” I asked. “Dalton’s poop!” she replied. I searched the room. “Where?” She
pointed up. Hanging from the ceiling was a perfect orb of poop, the exact size
of a baseball. For a moment I had to just stare at it wondrously. Whatever feat
got it up there, it was clearly the work of a master. Impressed, I applauded,
then cried.Read More...
