Collected Poop Stories

by Peggy Hoffman

On the last Sunday of the every month, we hold a belly dance performance in Minás Gallery, our art gallery/boutique. This particular performance went as planned. When the performance was over, we closed the gallery and went home.

Shortly after arriving at home, we got a call from the police. Apparently, one of the spectators had been in our bathroom pooping for so long that the event had ended, we had cleaned up, put the chairs away, locked up the store, set the alarm, and gone home.

When the finally lady emerged from the bathroom, she set off the burglar alarm. She immediately called the police, identifying herself as the Poopetrator. We had to go unlock the store and let her out.