A soccer field, a dog and a bag of soccer oranges

This post features The Artist in the lead role.

Picture the scene.

Sunday morning soccer, plastic bag containing oranges in a tupperware on the ground.  Culprit walks up casual-like and pisses on the bag. On the bag.

The culprit.  Like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

The culprit. Like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

The Artist wallops the culprit on the arse but unfortunately the damage is done.  He carefully removes the tupperware but now the bag is about to blow towards the field where his dearly beloved offspring is playing.  As he is about to wrestle with his good and bad angel, another father, whom we will call Pepper (and who has a bit of a “rep” in the soccer circles) pounces on the bag and balls it up in his hand and then wipes it on his jeans.  Pepper informs The Artist that he will keep it as it is needed for when the oranges are eaten out of the tupperware and then they can be thrown away.

The Artist at this stage is besides himself, laughing on the inside of course. And at the same time cringing with disgust.  The Artist likes things clean, very clean.  Dog pee does not enter his world.

Come half time and the kids eat the oranges (which are perfectly clean inside the container – in case you were worrying).  Pepper then instructs his wife to handle the bag and collect the orange peels.  The Artist is almost doubled over now.

After the game, Pepper tries to return the bag to The Artist to dispose of the orange peels but The Artist waves heartily and hoofs it to his car with Miss10 in tow.  Responsible like –  not having handled the pissbag at all but ensuring that it doesn’t pose a nature hazard going forward.

Experiencing the grave misfortune of a run in on the soccer field with Pepper a few years prior, I myself have to say that karma has no address. (quote credit: Hayden Giger)

That is all.

Love and light

Lauren xxx

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