Poo Dance
If you've found a dog poo on the way home from school, but are bored of the Poo Game", why not go solo and bedazzle your friends with a flamboyant "poo dance"?
Based on the (pooless) Scottish sword dance, the protagonist cavorts above the poo to the strains of a pretend bagpipe. Points are awarded for technical complexity and how close the Clarks goes to the poo without touching it.
The game ends when the Dancer either stands in the poo or gets bored and, if it is a dry poo, kicks it at a spectator.
Based on the (pooless) Scottish sword dance, the protagonist cavorts above the poo to the strains of a pretend bagpipe. Points are awarded for technical complexity and how close the Clarks goes to the poo without touching it.
The game ends when the Dancer either stands in the poo or gets bored and, if it is a dry poo, kicks it at a spectator.
written by an*nymou* use*, approved by Log
Witnessed only once, on a lane close to my home. A large, firm dog turd had been painstakingly cut into sections and arranged to form the imperative "EAT ME". I was young enough to wonder whether there might have been magic growth or shrinkage qualities transferred to the eater had I obeyed; but not quite brave enough to try. Now I'll never know.
written by An*re* Fr*eman, approved by Log
Some healthy scepticism here from Nick concerning the veracity of Andrew Freeman's poo story.
Christ's cock and balls, Freeman. "A large, firm dog turd"? The Hound of the fucking Baskervilles itself must have laid that cable if we're to believe there was enough of it to spell out "EAT ME".
Next you'll be posting an entry to say that the following night, an artfully arranged "LICK ME" appeared written in piss up the side of a lamppost.
Christ's cock and balls, Freeman. "A large, firm dog turd"? The Hound of the fucking Baskervilles itself must have laid that cable if we're to believe there was enough of it to spell out "EAT ME".
Next you'll be posting an entry to say that the following night, an artfully arranged "LICK ME" appeared written in piss up the side of a lamppost.
written by Ni*k H*nt, approved by Matt
On cold frosty mornings poo found on the pavement could be more fearlessly kicked at passers by, safe in the knowledge that only the freshest, steamiest of bobs would not be frozen solid. Sadly the impact on the target is less impressive thanks to the very same splat-failure.
Life is a compromise.
Life is a compromise.
written by an*nym*us *ser, approved by Log