I thought I’d take a break from my usual true-to-life accounts to share with you a little fable my mother used to tell me after she tucked me into bed. This is exactly how I remember it:
A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, a great adventure took place . . .
No, wait. That’s not right. Sorry, it’s been so long. The last time my mom told me this story, I was just a wide-eyed child of 15. OK, let’s try this again . . .
Once upon a time, there was a tiny little house that sat in a tiny little town, just north of Devonshire. And inside this tiny little house, lived a tiny little woman whose only companions were two tiny little dogs. Occasionally, those tiny little dogs would need to go outside to leave tiny little poops on the tiny little lawn. And those tiny little poops would sit there for weeks, because the tiny little woman preferred to watch her tiny little TV than clean up tiny little poops.
Over time, the tiny little poops grew into one enormous mound of shit. It wasn’t cute anymore. It was fucking disgusting. The tiny little woman’s tiny little neighbors banged on her tiny little door with all their might. But the tiny little bitch wouldn’t answer her tiny little door.
A massive swarm of tiny little flies descended on the tiny little town, blocking out the tiny little sun. The tiny little mayor called in the tiny little police to break down the tiny little woman’s tiny little door. To their surprise, the tiny little woman had reinforced her tiny little door with a thick (but tiny) layer of impenetrable steel.
Property values quickly plummeted. People abandoned their tiny little homes to escape the overwhelming stench of tiny little feces. You’d think it would be like living on a farm: eventually, you’d get used to the smell. But, no, the odor kept getting worse and worse.
The tiny little dogs couldn’t even go outside anymore to do their business. The door was blocked with their own waste. Instead, the pooches would sit there at the window, yipping away at the swarm of flies outside, as the tiny little woman sat in her tiny little hazmat suit, watching her tiny little TV, inhaling oxygen from her abundant supply of tiny little tanks.
She was quite happy, this tiny little woman. She had the whole town to herself. Occasionally, she’d take her tiny little dogs out for a walk (wearing one of her many hazmat suits) and let them leave tiny little poops all over the tiny little sidewalk. Before too long, there was absolutely no place left for this tiny little woman to walk without stepping on tiny little poops. Still, it was better than going through the trouble of cleaning up after her dogs.
Then, one day, a carpenter ant scurried its way through the tiny little village, crushing the tiny little woman and her tiny little house and her fucking tiny little yippy dogs. The moral of this story: Don’t be such a lazy ass and pick up after your dog. Now shut up and go to sleep.
Before I knew it, I was crying my way to slumberland. Ah, memories.
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