An open letter to the dreadful, no doubt poorly dressed imbecile who let their dog shit all over my office parking lot:
When I stepped in the disgusting waste of your dog on my way into work this morning, crouched over a recycling bin wiping my $12 Payless clogs with yesterday’s newspaper, I merely disliked you. But when I ducked out to hit the Whole Foods salad bar and stepped in that shit again, I decided to curse you and generations of your spawn, not to mention your obnoxious and apparently little mutt.
Maybe it’s my karma for being a renowned dog sitter for years and never once picking up poo. Maybe it’s my karma for wearing these shoes. But I at least have the sense of consideration to guide the dog I’m walking into the bushes or potted tree area, an area where people probably don’t walk, even in crappy shoes.
My god. I haven’t stepped in dog shit for a good decade. Thanks for killing my streak, asshole.
Coal would be too kind. I hope you find dogshit in your cheap, RiteAid stocking.
I hate you. And I hate your dog.
With utmost sincerity,