Chip Off the Old Block

It was a work of art.  The most realistic fake turd I’d ever seen.  Artfully created from the Poo-Dough kit I’d purchased at Walmart.

I stealthily crept into Linda's bathroom, even though I knew she wasn’t home.  (Stealth always adds to the adventure.)  I giggled as I placed the turd on the toilet seat at just the right angle.

I waited impatiently for several minutes before calling her to see when she'd be home.

“Um, when are you coming home?” I asked, attempting to sound normal.

“I don't know, why?”

“Just wondering,”  I said, and hung up before she got suspicious.

I walked back upstairs to admire my artwork.

  
Still there.

Linda came home about 20 minutes later with her friend Katerina and they went right upstairs to her room.  Perfect.

I waited.  And giggled in anticipation.  I could just hear it:  “Mom!!!” Linda would say and roll her eyes, pretending to be embarrassed at her immature Mom, while inwardly proud that she has the coolest mom of all.

I waited.  And waited.

Nothing.

I decided to check in on the situation.  Linda’s door was cracked open and girls were chit-chatting away.

They must not have seen it yet. 

I peeked into the bathroom. 

The turd was gone.  Vanished!
 
It was inexplicable.  How could the girls not have reacted to a fake turd on the toilet seat?  They should have screamed!!!

And where had the turd gone?  

My question was answered as I looked in the toilet and saw a dark shadow lurking deep in the exit tunnel. 

I was bewildered.  I had no choice but to approach the girls. 

“Hi,” I said as I entered the bedroom.

“What?” asked Linda.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Talking….. Mom what do you want?” Linda asked, getting annoyed. As usual.

“So,….” I said, looking from one suspect to the other, wondering who pushed the poop into the toilet.  Clearly, one of them was guilty.

But why had they not reacted?  Screamed.  Or Laughed.  Or something.  

It was incomprehensible.

I told Linda I needed to talk to her in private.

I came clean about my “prank” and suggested that Katerina pushed the poop. But Katerina promptly pleaded innocent to any and all wrongdoing. 

Linda said, “Kevin must have eaten it.”

"Kevin didn't eat it,"  I said. “I think it’s in the toilet.”

We walked to the crime scene and looked into the bowl.  The girls gave a collective, “Gross.”

I was about to flush when it occurred to me that play dough may not be flushable.  I reluctantly grabbed a handful of toilet paper and got on my knees to begin my fishing expedition.

As I attempted to wrap toilet paper around the elusive, slippery turd, I had the most distressing, disgusting epiphany.  Ever.

If Linda and Katerina wanted to prank me back, what would they do?

I know what I would do.  

OMG.  I was fishing a real turd out of the toilet.

Or was I?  God please don’t let her be a chip off the old block.

But then I remembered that the girls are not nearly as crafty and clever (or immature) as I am.  

It was just a soggy, very realistic Play-dough turd.

That thankfully, didn’t smell.