The Sonia Show

Writer. Podcaster. Beer drinker. Old movie watcher. Mother. Goober.

Poo fight

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Yeah, so, is it a big deal if some throws some trash away in your trash can?

I’m not talking about shoving a couch in your trash or a dead body or a ton of boxes. I’m talking about the occasional little piece of trash. I don’t think it’s a big deal. I figure it’s part of being a good neighbor. You let people throw away trash in your trash can. That’s why they call it trash.

Here’s why I ask:

I took Homer out for his walk this morning. We did our little stroll. He did his dirty, naughty, sinful business, which I dutifully scooped up in a little bag and headed home. As you may remember, we live across the street from a dildo factory. True story. They have several trash cans in their area, and if I haven’t already dumped it, I’ll deposit Homer’s little poop bag in their trash without incident.

Well, this morning went a little different.

I walked up with the little bag when an employee tried to stop me.

“You know, you really are not supposed to be throwing away your dog’s poop in our company’s trash,” she said.

I stood there with my hand on the trash can lid and my other hand holding a poop bag. “Seriously? It’s trash and this is a trash can,” I said.

She stood there for a while, almost daring me to do it. So, I threw it away, because that’s what you do with trash.

Then she turned around and went back into the dildo factory, I assume to brag to her boss about how she tried to defend the company trash from the evil lady across the street with the nine-pound wiener dog. I’m sure the boss will be super impressed and give her a big, fat raise; or maybe he will give her a big, fat dildo and tell her to go fuck herself because it’s just a trash can.


Author: The Sonia Show

I'm a writer/podcaster/mother/goober in San Francisco who likes to drink beer, shop, laugh and make other people laugh, watch old movies, feed my unhealthy obsession with pop culture, kick breast cancer's ass, go on adventures with my mighty, mighty good man David and my awesome autistic son, Calvin, wear orange and root for the San Francisco Giants, participate in general jackass-ery, talk about TV, eavesdrop on strangers' conversations, make nerdy “Star Wars” and “Simpsons” references, and post personal things about myself on the web for all to read, which makes me some sort of literary exhibitionist.

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