Tommy felt the warm, stinky mess of dog poop cover him and Rupert. Slowing down to try to avoid the storm drain allowed Rupert’s poop to catch up with them. In shock, Tommy didn’t do anything, except listen to the stormwater carrying them through the dark storm lines and into the creek.
Must change! Must change! Must change! Worry worry worry worry worry worry worry worry worry worry worry Stop!
“Who me? What did I do?” asked Tommy, trying to put on his most innocent face. “You make me ugly and smelly by not picking up your dog’s poop!” the she-monster replied. “Hey, I’m not the only one who does this,” Tommy replied. “What about Mrs. Fraser and all the other people around here?”
“Aw Mom! Do I have to?” Tommy whined to his mom. “If you want your allowance this week you will,” Tommy’s mother replied. “And don’t forget to bring plenty of bags. You know how Rupert is.”
“Click clack, click clack.” Mommy is in the kitchen. Is she making dinner? Is it good to eat? Maybe she’s only washing dishes. I don’t smell anything. I’m leaving.