The following is a short coming-of-age story from our guest contributor, Mr. Jared McSharry, entitled, "The Taste Isn't That Bad". Enjoy.

"The Taste Isn't That Bad"

by Jared McSharry

When I was 13 I was playing in the back yard of some Neighbors. The ratio of grass to poop was about 51% grass...49% poop. Kevin points his toe like a ballerina would and digs under a dry pile. He lifts his foot...poop is making forward flips toward me in slow motion...I notice that the under belly of the poop is where the moisture had settled...Poop comes to a stop on my tongue. Why my tongue? I was screaming like it was a horrer flick. Mouth wide. Poop was trying to get down my throat. Luckly tongue was a skilled guardian. With my tongue out of my mouth I ran from house to house telling people that I needed a wash cloth to wipe the poop off of my tongue. They asked me several times to repeat. Its difficult to talk with your mouth full.


  1. Yum, my puke reflexes just kicked in... It's a reminder of this *embarrassing* moment:

    One evening in the old country of Chile, we had a game night. I had this brilliant idea that each round's loser should face a consequence. When I lost, them fools decided I had to pick up dog s@%$ and squish it in my hand. They chose the meatiest, greenest (like a lime) and freshest one out there from the pit bull. After 10 minutes of mental prep & debate, I go for it (because I often don't think & do things because I figure it's only a moment in the scheme of life...). I picked it up, squeezed, and felt it make it's way between my fingers...... and then started gagging.

    I'm such a charmer.

  2. Jared's situation sounds pretty awful but yours is a piece of cake. I'm generally pretty happy as long as the dog poop stays outside my body.