Can You Tell me How to Get, How to Get to Poopy Street

And the poopstravaganza continues. Living in Florida, I’m getting used to seeing unusual things while driving around. I saw two armadillos and four chickens on my way to work earlier this week. Whenever I pick up Savannah from swim practice, I see houses that have miscellaneous appliances and broken-down vehicles in their yards. I see food trucks with signs that read “pupusas” on them. I’m sure I’m mispronouncing this, but poo poo sauce does not sound appetizing.

However, the other day, I saw something even stranger, and I knew immediately, who was responsible for it. As I turned into my subdivision, I beheld this sight . . .

The sign of a brilliant criminal - signing your name to the scene of the crime.

Up ahead - poop! What a fabulous welcome home to all the neighbors.

How kind of him to draw arrows to point the way to the poop.

In case you've forgotten, here's a little reminder of what you're heading toward.

More arrows. You know, so you don't accidentally turn into a driveway and miss the poop.

"You are . . .

. . . in the . . .

. . .POOP!"

Here we are, eight houses later and we're still in the poop.

Yep, a giant drawing of poop that spans a city block. Look at the stink waves coming off it. Niiiiice.

I’m awaiting the letter from my Homeowner’s Association kindly requesting we stop defacing public property with feces, or move out of the neighborhood.

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