The breeze was soft, the sun was high,
I hung my laundry out to dry.
But something brown went flying past —
A shape unholy, oddly fast.
It flopped and landed in the dirt…
Who knew a poop could wear a shirt?
Turd in the Wind
The breeze was soft, the sun was high,
I hung my laundry out to dry.
But something brown went flying past —
A shape unholy, oddly fast.
It flopped and landed in the dirt…
Who knew a poop could wear a shirt?
