Rowley and the poo

14: As Rowley lay in bed, he couldn't stop thinking about the Bing episode he had watched earlier. The one where Bing said boo to charlie and charlie cryed. Rowley tried to shake off the fear, but it was like a lingering presence, refusing to let him sleep. Desperate for a distraction, Rowley started to fart but after a while, he realized this wasn't helping either. He tossed and turned, trying to think of something else to do. Suddenly, he remembered the poo he had found in his backyard earlier that day. It was a perfectly-formed turd, just sitting there, waiting for Rowley's attention. He had picked it up and brought it into his room, but he hadn't played with it yet. Without hesitation, Rowley got out of bed, tiptoeing to the corner of his room where he had hidden the poo. He picked it up and held it to his face, inhaling its earthy scent. Then, he began to play with it. First, he bounced it like a ball, watching as it splattered against the wall. Then, he tried to balance it on his nose, giggling as it fell to the floor. Finally, he decided to play a game of catch with himself, tossing the poo from one hand to the other. But Rowley was so engrossed in his game that he didn't realize how loud he was being. His dad burst into the room, looking angrier than Rowley had ever seen him.

"What the hell are you doing?!" his dad bellowed. "It's nearly midnight! Go to bed!" Rowley was taken aback by the sudden outburst, but he quickly composed himself. "I was just playing with the poo," he said sheepishly. His dad's face twisted in disgust. "Get that filthy thing out of here," he spat. "And don't you dare bring it back in my house." Dejected, Rowley put the poo back outside and crawled back into bed. He tried to ignore the embarrassment and shame he felt, but it was hard. The next day, Rowley was awakened by a piercing scream. He stumbled out of bed, rubbing his bleary eyes, and headed downstairs to see what all the commotion was about.

His mom was standing in the kitchen, her face contorted in revulsion. "What is that smell?!" she cried. Rowley's father appeared from the living room, holding a handkerchief over his nose. "It's coming from outside," he said gravely. Rowley followed his parents outside and gasped when he saw what had happened. His walls had been painted brown by a crew of workers, but not with paint - with poo. The stench was overpowering, and Rowley felt his stomach churn. He knew he was responsible for this mess. His dad began to shout at him, but before he could really get going, Rowley confessed. "I did it," he said. "I used the poo to paint our house." His dad's face turned red with anger. "Get inside and don't move until I come in," he snarled. Rowley spent the rest of the day scrubbing the poo off the walls and trying to make amends. He had never felt so ashamed in his life. That night, his dad called him into his study. "I'm giving you a bag of piss to play with from now on," he said sternly. "It's much safer and cleaner than playing with poo. And I hope you've learned your lesson about playing with dirty things." Rowley nodded his head, too humbled to argue. He took the bag of wee and trudged back to his room, feeling as low as he ever had.

But as he lay in bed, reflecting on his mistakes, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity. What kind of games could he play with wee?rowley suddenlyhad a new distraction to think about at night, and he realized that maybe he didn't need poo after all. but as his dad walked off he popped the bag of piss down his throught killing his dad