Don’t mess with The Master when it comes to fake poo

It takes an artist to bring this rubber poo to life. Or maybe just somebody weird.

It takes an artist to bring this rubber poo to life. Or maybe just somebody weird.

Around noon today, I will effectively be putting the “finishing move” on my son regarding an ongoing practical-joke battle involving fake dog poo. Though I will be working on deadline here at the newspaper several blocks from home, I will know exactly when my triumphant moment occurs. That’s because I will hear his anguished holler as he drops to his knees, fists raised, and cries out “DANGGGG YOUUUUU!”

Or something to that effect.

I know this may come as a surprise to many of you, but yes: I own a piece of fake dog poo. I’ve had it for years and pride myself on executing it masterfully in terms of timing, placement and appearance. Just putting it on the floor is for amateurs. A true maestro of poo knows that turning it from a single note to a symphony requires, well… a movement. There needs to be a set-up, i.e., a reason for the poo to be there. For example, last year someone in the sales department brought their dog to work because their home was being fumigated. The dog, a nervous sheltie, routinely got out of the sales room and roamed through the office. Continue reading