Prehistoria

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This happened to me during a recent visit to Melbourne. While no longer current, it still carries a sting of shame and pain. I present to you the story of my bath in pterodactyl poo.

Sipping an iced coffee in a park with my flatmate. Soaking up the sun, the sights and the sounds.

And then I became one of the sights and sounds.

A passing creature of the air took a massive crap mid-flight. The pearl it released gained momentum and other airborne particles and it plummeted towards earth, until it landed with a resounding slap on my leg. The noise horrified me, then the warmth of the poo made me shudder. As I yelped and screeched, the poo seemed to grow in both proportion and areas of impact, until finally, I accepted the bitter truth: I had been shat upon by a passing pterodactyl.

My disgust was acted out to the soundtrack of the squeaks and giggles bubbling out of my flatmate. She found my new status as long drop toilet to be quite amusing. So much so that, stricken by guilt or sympathy, she offered me something to wipe the poo off with. It soon became clear however that the impact of this shit was bigger than any tissue could handle. It was on my leg, and on my hand, and on my wrist, and on my bracelet, and in my bracelet, and on my coffee. I decided to assume it was also in my coffee, if for no reason other than to add merit to the sulk I was building up to.

As I sat there, covered in shit, my mind wandered to a certain tomato bush.

At the base of the steps in my beloved’s backyard is a small but healthy cherry tomato bush. No one planted it there, but we all refuse to eat from it. This is because we are fairly certain that the seeds that sprouted this particular tree came from a poo. A dog poo. A dog poo belonging to one of the more painful puppies I have ever encountered. And to be honest, dog poo tomatoes is a taste sensation that I doubt will ever take off.

But I reckon there is something worse.

The house my dad lived in until recently had a septic tank. Several years ago, one of the pipes to this tank cracked, or leaked, or some other equally horrific betrayal. We found out because just near the septic tank, a bumper crop of tomato bushes were growing. Yup. One thing worse than dog poo tomatoes? Human poo tomatoes.

As I wiped the pterodactyl poo from the various parts of my body, I was indeed thankful that I wasn’t removing human or dog poo. My flatmate and I gathered our various bits and pieces, and made our way home. Through crowded streets, busy traffic, buses and more. I was glad I had wiped the poo off.

But then this morning, as I was sorting through some washing, I realized that something was amiss with the shorts I had been wearing.

I had also sat in a very large, very wet bird shit.

Don’t tell me this is luck.

Just don’t.

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