Le Sniff Sniff

Dear Middle-Aged Lady Who Walks By My House Each Morning,

Hi there!

You don’t know me, but I’m Platzie, I live in the house that you walk by each morning and very frequently stop in front of (something which we’ll discuss shortly). In fact, if you ever look up toward the 2nd floor you’ll probably catch a glimpse of me through the blinds having my mornin’ spank. Give a friendly wave if you do, but don’t be offended if I don’t return the sentiment – you know, due to me having my hands full of dick.

Like this, but with slightly less berries and much more dick

Now I know what you’re probably thinking, “You masturbate with both hands?”

And the answer is no, I’ve never attempted the Two Handed Yak Stomp. I was speaking figuratively, but thank you for keeping me honest, that’s very neighborly of you. In fact, being neighborly is what I want to discuss with you.

Because you see, Middle-Aged Lady Who Walks By My House Each Morning, something a bit disconcerting happened to me earlier this week and I do believe it’s your fault.

Have you ever heard of the Internet meme Foul Bachelor Frog? It’s an image of a frog with text surrounding it describing something that a man left to his own devices without female intervention would do. Here are a couple examples:

What I like about Foul Bachelor Frog is that it spot-on describes my life during the week when I’m here at my place away from my ladyfriend Karen. In fact, I had a Foul Bachelor Frog moment on Monday, which went terribly wrong thanks to you.

I had just walked into my house when I felt like something was stuck to the bottom of my shoe. I had walked across the front yard and it was kind of muddy so I figured it was probably a clump of dirt. Now I could have turned around, walked back out the door and cleaned the dirt off on the welcome mat … but that would have involved walking 5 steps in the opposite direction of which I was already moving. So clearly that was out of the question.

Instead I noticed the in-floor heat vent in front of me, so I scraped my shoe off on that, saw the dirt and some grass fall down into it, and called it a day.

Soon after though I noticed something weird. Every time the heat would come on, there’d be a funky smell originating from the entryway of the house. I searched all over and couldn’t find the cause. I even went down to the basement and looked at the heating unit, but lacking even the most rudimentary knowledge of how anything more complex than a spoon works, I was unable to determine if the problem originated there.

Absolutely flummoxed, I walked back upstairs. And that’s when it hit me.

I went over to my shoes (which I had left near the heat vent), flipped them over, looked at the soles, and found the source of the smell…

Feces

That clump of dirt was a huge turd, which I had stepped in, scraped-off into the heating vent, and was now releasing its bouquet of scents each time the heat came on and warmed it up.

Middle-Aged Lady Who Walks By My House Each Morning , you may be asking yourself what this has to do with you. Well remember how I mentioned that on your morning walks you frequently stop in front of my house? I left out that during those stops you’re letting your giant husky shit all over my yard. And being a douche of the highest order you just leave it there.

Now look, there’s no reason why we can’t approach this issue like civil, neighborly adults. All I ask, with the utmost sincerity of course, is that you pick up your dog’s poo and in return I’ll continue to refrain from running outside and skullfucking you.

In fact, in the spirit of extending an olive branch, I got you a gift. Here you go…

Go ahead, open it…

Bon Appétit

Sincerely,

Platzie