|Outside of Bill Jackson's store.|
|Fred and Jam walking in the parking lot. Looks like a wild place, doesn't it?|
"Fred, he has to poo. It's 10:30. It's a 10 o'clock poo." I said.
"He hasn't done a 10 o'clock poo in ages." Fred responded. I was adamant. That WAS a gopher butt. I was positive. So doubting Thomas gave me the leash and Jam and I proceeded to walk the wild ways of the parking lot. Nothing.
"Listen, buddy, I know you have to poo. Just do it." I am staring at his butt. I did not mistake the signs. Bill Jackson's is carpeted. There is no way I am going in there with a potential poo inside Jam. Jam is a poo circler, meaning he can't poo without twirling in a circle at least twice, if not three times. He much prefers to poo in a hidden spot, surrounded by bushes. That meant braving the palmettos. He didn't much care for that. We finally found the spot. He twirled. Success.
I was correct!
|Jam lying on the floor looking up at me. On his left is a box of socks. On his right are some skis.|
|Looking down on Jam's head as he stares down the box of socks.|