The Phantom Shitter Strikes Again

My first encounter with the Phantom Shitter was at the Boy Scout National Jamboree in 1997. There may have even been several at work in unison. Regardless, there was someone who was pretty good at finding ways and places leave fresh corpulites that would not be considered acceptable by social norms in American Culture. There were collapsed lincoln log piles in the shower and behind tents and such. Good times. I was glad to leave that behind, hoping it was over.

Of course, it wasn't.

In high school, we discussed metaphysical manifestation of alienation, and the Phantom Shitter phenomenon was brought up as a common example. An academic premonition that would linger in my mind when our hero stuck the graduate dorm in the Spring of 2006. Hall meetings were held. Guards were posted in the bathroom. Fees were charged. Fetid piles periodically arrived. They threatened to take the doors off the stalls.

To my deep surprise, Phantom Shitter has struck again! In my own house! I got home Wednesday night, walked the dog, and then settled down on the porch to drink beer and waste my life surfing the internet. Then, The Girly came home, and called me into the house. "Have you been to the bathroom since you got home?"

I hadn't. Beer first, pee later. You know how it works. Order is critically important in that game.

She pointed into the bathroom.

There was a large stinking pile of poop.

She denied responsibility. I denied responsibility. The Dog denied responsibility.

Great. Someone broke into the house shit on the floor. Just like Baltimore.

-or-

Someone was lying.

We decided to let the matter stay. A few plastic bags and paper towels vanished the problem. Vanished, that is, until Friday, when The Girly texted me at work to tell me it happened again. She proposed to take The Dog to the vet for interrogation.

Just like East Germany. They have quite a file on him.

The vet wants a stool sample and a urine sample

Great.