Monday, May 28, 2012

Poop On You

When we were at an RV campground recently, we got there ahead of the weekend crowd and watched as the sites filled up one by one. I was outside having a beer and reading a friend’s manuscript. My charmer was watching our baby coconut search out rocks and acorns beside the tow behind that we borrowed from my in-laws.

The parade filing in was a strange mix of senior couples in their brand-new, decked-out RV buses and packs of young families in broke-down campers that hadn’t been fixed since The Bradys toured the Grand Canyon. The retired living the high life of tranquility and the salt of the earth trying to forget about their underpaid, soul-sucking jobs that they’d have to return to in a few days. My baby coconut took time out from her treasure hunt to wave to each camper as they passed by our site, and nearly all were kind enough to smile as they waved back.

But there always has to be one, right? And this particular one was a tall, thin, pasty white, twenty-something a-hole walking his German shepherd. The duo walked behind our camper and didn’t reappear for several moments. I’m no fool. It doesn’t take that long to walk past a thirty foot tow behind camper. I know what man and his best friend had been up to, especially when they scurried past us without making eye contact. I jumped up and ran around to confirm. Yup. There it was. A huge, stinking pile of dog shit on the grass where my baby plays.

I ran back. “Hey, you mind picking up after your animal?” I called out after him.

“It’s not your park.” A-Hole said.

“Park rules say dog owners need to pick up—”

Then it happened. The finger over the shoulder routine. He never looked back. He couldn’t have cared less.

“Nice,” I grumbled. I’ve learned not to make a scene in front of my daughter, and I just let it go. For the moment.

Over the next few days, the piles grew into a little Mount Everest. The dog had chosen our spot as his depository and his master seemed to revel in my quiet seething. Well, I’d had enough of being shit upon. While buying ice cream in the campground store, I overheard him telling the site manager that he was leaving the next day, and so I began plotting my revenge.

I woke up just before dawn and put on my darkest clothes. I grabbed gloves and a bag, then went outside and carefully collected a bag full of poop. I still had my anxiety of meeting up with a black bear, but I swallowed that fear and traipsed over to his shit-free lot and liberally scattered the contents of the bag at the base of his camper steps and around the small yard so there was no way he could get to his truck without stepping in something as he packed up. I considered adding it to his steps but I wouldn’t want to risk him hurting himself—I suppose the bastard didn’t deserve that.

After my task was complete, I went back to our little home and made myself a pot of coffee.

As the sun rose and the campers began to stir, I moved outside, plopped down in a lawn chair, and sipped the hot java. Sure enough, soon after, I heard a “WTF!” shrieked across the campground. From my vantage in the chair, I couldn’t see his lot, but later, as he was leaving and passed by, I was serenaded with an expletive and another middle finger, and I surmised he stepped in a footful of it.

My daughter and I waved goodbye with cheery smiles.


Chris said...

Well done.

Mike Wilkerson said...

That's what I'm talkin' 'bout!

Good for you and this is a major pet peeve of mine. I have a dog. I walk my dog and pick up his crap in a plastic bag...what's the big deal? Too manly to pick up shit? Give me a break!

Ron Scheer said...

Good story. Always amazes me that people like that assume you're not armed.

David Cranmer said...

Thanks, Chris.

Leah, But yet in his world he’s still not wrong.

Mike, I had a dog and always picked up after her. Even when nobody was looking.

David Cranmer said...

Good point, Ron. But the farther you travel up the coast heading north the less likely folks think of gun toting avengers.

Jay said...

Just deserts! Nice one, Dave.

Rick said...

David, I loved this story. It should be required reading in school.

Thomas Pluck said...

I'm glad that guy got what he had coming. How infuriating. compliments to your temper.

Kevin Burton Smith said...

Inconsiderate dog owners today, assholes talking on cellphones while driving tomorrow, maybe litterbugs on Thursday. You go, David.

But Ron's right -- in the U.S., you never know when some mouthbreather has a gun.

Be careful out there, folks, when fighting the good fight.

Chudney Thomas said...

OMG love it! (I'm a dog owner and if I somehow forget to take a bag I try to stick to the uninhabited areas)

John DuMond said...

Nicely played, sir. That jackwagon gives responsible dog owners a bad name.

And for the record, I HATE the middle finger salute (except when used amongst friends, in jest). It's a chickensh*t way to dis someone. If someone has something to say to me, they should have the stones to walk up to me and say it to my face.

Charles Gramlich said...

Eggsecelent! Gotta love it.

Reb said...

what a wonderful way to get even :)

G. B. Miller said...


Sorry, I just had to use a quote from a John Ritter comedy film as it was the first thing that popped into my mind while reading this.

BTW, if you want to look it up, it also features Pam Dawber and Eugene Levy.

Randy Johnson said...

The Poop Ninja strikes again. Good One.

David Cranmer said...

Gracias, Jay!

Thanks. But no story, Rick. True testimonial.

Thomas, So many shits around these days.

Kevin, When I was in Virginia everyone talked road rage and I would always pipe in by saying "You know everyone has a gun, right?"

Chudney, Most dog owners are very good about taking care of their animals.

John, I totally agree. And it looks so uneducated to my way of thinking.

Charles/Reb, Glad you enjoyed my revenge. :)

Fun film, G.

Randy, Ha. Great title. Better than mine.

Oscar Case said...

That's the typical younger generation, no respect for anything or anybody! Revenge is sweet!