At the turn of the 20th century the streets of London were paved in poop. From the cobblestones to the gutters the city was teeming with manure. The sewer system had gone aboveground. Every underpass became an outhouse and every hill became a crapshoot. Horse drawn carriages left thick juicy road apples down the medians and commoners were left to contend with the stench.
Horses produced 15 to 35 pounds of feces a day. With 50,000 stallions used for transportation, Oxford Street was ground zero for a 625 ton avalanche of excrement.
This tidal wave of fecal matter drove flies to every street corner and every butt truffle they dined on came with a side a typhoid fever. Cities everywhere were drowning in a downpour of dookie and disease. Everyday New York had its own 1,250 ton shitstorm. Something had to be done.
That’s when Henry Ford invented the Model T and the herds of dung dumpers were retired.
Palm Beach County Florida is having its own crap crisis
Driving down Clematis Street in West Beach Florida, it’s hard not to draw comparisons to Victorian London. The roads are slick with a syrupy sludge. The sidewalks look like they’re paved in fudge. And the boulevards are minefields of mulberry mud pies.
Flies tower into the sky like rope tornadoes. The swarm is so thick it creates an overcast. The insects are here for the doodie dumplings, chestnut nuggets, and ripe dingleberries overflowing from the storm drains.
No. Horse drawn buggies have not come back in fashion, nor is there an issue with West Beach’s sewage system. According to the Palm Beach County Solid Waste Authority, the problem is something else entirely.
“We were baffled. We were finding wallet chains and watchbands in the leavings. We knew we were dealing with an apex predator. One that fed on humans. But it wasn’t until the Fish and Wildlife Service put us in touch with a forensic scatologist that we realized we were dealing with werewolves.”
Werewolves have migrated to Palm Beach County for its beachfront property, upscale shopping, and statistically unhealthy population.
According to the Palm Beach County Sheriff’s Office, “It’s no secret West Beach residents are older and rounder than other Floridians. They’re ideal prey for these cryptozoological carnivores.”
While coroners are responsible for removing these fresh kills from the side of the road, no one wants to shovel the excrement that accompanies them.
The Commissioners think they have a solution
This Thursday Palm Beach County Commissioners voted on a bill that would require werewolves to carry poop bags on the night of a full moon.
A doctor spoke on the dangers of toxoplasmosis from fecal matter in the air and the spread of bacteria from feces in the water supply.
A city planner dismissed a proposal to leave Porta Potties at the edge of every woodland path. “A full grown lycanthrope is simply too large to fit. Poo bags are the most practical solution.”
The Mayor said, “Dog walkers have to pick up after their four-legged friends werewolves should do the same.”
The werewolves in the gallery howled
The first wolf skulked up to the podium, barred her teeth, and pawed at the microphone. “If we sling thirteen gallon bags over our shoulders, while we’re in our canine forms, we’re likely to get trapped and suffocate. You can’t mandate someone to carry a poop bag, knowing that poop bags are killing people.”
The next wolf had their speech written on a parchment of dried flesh. “The problem with humanity today is everyone keeps taking the road of least resistance. Then you blame us when it comes time to run.”
One werewolf honed in on the doctor. “I really have many question marks about your degrees and whether or not you’re working for one of the vampire houses. Vampires are known to have human familiars, aspiring immortals, who function like interns. I’ve torn out many a familiar’s jugular and you ma’am smell like a familiar.”
One after the other the wolves came out in defense of their desire to defecate where they please.
“Where do you derive the authority to regulate Lycan intestines? I answer to a higher power: the moon.”
“And they want to throw God’s wonderful defecation system out the door. If the good Lord didn’t want us to soil his cemeteries he wouldn’t have given us such perfect anuses.”
The final wolf was dressed like a grandmother in a bonnet and apron. They laid a copy of Little Red Riding Hood on the podium and read a politicized reimagining of the final scene.
“But Grandmother! What small ears you have.”
“The better to ignore the pledge of allegiance with.”
“But Grandmother! What small eyes you have.”
“The better to ignore the constitution with.”
“But Grandmother! What small teeth you have.”
“The better to—”
His speech was cut short when he his tail rose up and he laid a big steaming dump at the podium.
It’s at this point the Palm Beach County Commissioners fled the room.
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