I remember once my father told me there was this golden retriever that kept shitting in our front yard. I had seldom seen this fabled beast... The first time I layed eyes on him, it was in a blur of gold as it took off down the street, steaming shit layed next to our garden gnome, Terry. Everytime this happened, the owner merely walked on with a jolly look on his face. "Those bastards" my father would mutter as he came back in the house every morning. He would sit up most nights keeping watch for this golden shitter, but his tendency to fall asleep meant that each time he missed it as he slept, waking up to a fresh turd before his eyes.

This carried on for a few month, but the story does not end there.

One night we were sat, as a family engaging in jolly cooperation, building a jigsaw in our living room. Halfway through the puzzle, night sky beginning to take over, I decided I needed a sandwich. I got up and went to the kitchen, grabbing some bread and a knife to cut it. We were not the kind of family to have luxurious sliced kind, so we had to put some effort in to put some bread on the table. I quickly got to work, the open window infront of me that lead to our front yard ajar, allowing the cold air and sounds of nature inside. After cutting the first slice, I heard a bark. Not just any kind of bark though - it was the bark of the golden shitter. I peered out the window and saw him, the dog walker bobbing by with a smile on his face. The dog was about to make rounds on our front yard again. I called my father, but a hand placed itself round my mouth and silenced me. I turned to look. It was father. "I know, son. It is time." He took strides like a Morrowind character as he went to our front door. To this day I do not know what strength surged through my father's veins as he ripped it clean off it's hinges and threw it towards the entrance to our garden, blocking all exit. I ran after father and was met with the sight of him and the golden shitter in face off. The dog looked for escape but found none. The owner look bewildered. My father approached the beast, swinging his fist into the side of the dogs neck, shattering it's spine and causing it to collapse. "Pass me the knife" my father demanded. I stepped closer and handed him it. "Thank you, son" he said as he sliced open the dogs arsehole, climbing inside into the abyss of the shitter. The fallen dog sprung to life, springing to the exit and clearing the door, wagging it's tail as it dived for the owner's throat and ripped a chunk clean out. The owner perished there and then, falling to the ground like a sack of shit. My father crawled out the abyss shortly after, head to toe in shite and a shit eating grin spread across his face like Nutella. I thanked my father profusely as he spat brown phlegm on the two bodies before us. To my unbeknownst, mother had rang the police during the commotion so a police cruiser pulled up as we celebrated. The officers stepped out the vehicle and gunned my father down on the spot. They proceeded to high five each other and took a gun out the trunk. Howling now with laughter, they planted the gun next to my shit smothered father and looked at me with smirks the size of Saturn. "Thank you officers..." I mumbled.