brendan halpin

Our story begins on August 13, 2024. My daughter and I realized we needed toothbrushes, so we decided to visit our local [NATIONAL RETAIL CHAIN REDACTED].

As one might expect in a retail establishment these days, everything one might actually want to buy is locked up, and the store is festooned with buttons to summon an employee to unlock the cabinet. So we went to the toothpaste case, and I pressed the button.

Of course, as is also the case in retail establishments these days, there wasn’t enough staff to respond to the button push. So we stood there, tantalized by the vision of toothbrushes that were so close, yet so far, until I realized that the lock on the cabinet was askew. I tried the door, and it slid right open. I reached in and grabbed the product I wanted with no assistance! Just like in the good old days, by which I mean two years ago!

We walked toward the checkout, and I was lost in a reverie, wondering whether it was a harried employee or a frustrated customer who broke the lock, and thinking that either way, if brick-and-mortar retail is to survive in this country, it will be because regular people took action to subvert the idiocy of retail CEOs.

My reverie was interrupted by my daughter yelling, “look out!” She pointed to the floor, and there, in the middle of aisle 5, was a turd. And this, my friends, is why you should treat your children well. Because when they grow to adulthood, they may stop you from stepping in a turd while wearing sandals, even though letting you step in said turd would be objectively hilarious.

I heard a dog barking at the front of the store and figured I’d found the turd culprit. But when we reached the front of the store, I saw the dog was a chihuahua being held in someone’s arms, and therefore physically incapable of producing fecal matter with the girth of the aisle 5 turd.

We went and stood in the long checkout line (see “understaffed” above.) No employees other than the cashiers were visible, so I figured I would tell them when I bought my toothbrushes. But then I saw a man turn down aisle 5 and decided to pay it forward. I darted out of line and said “look out!” to the man while pointing at the turd.

He thanked me, then looked at the turd. “Is it real?” he asked.

“It’s real,” I replied.

“Do they know?” he said.

“I’m about to tell them,” I said.

I got back in line, and when I reached the register, I told the cashier, “Um. There’s a poop in aisle 5.” And while this overworked, underpaid young woman definitely looked dismayed as she picked up the phone and said, “manager to the front,” one thing she did not look was surprised.

“Maybe it’s from one of the dogs that came in here,” she said.

“I hope it’s from one of the dogs,” I said, but doubts were already forming in my mind.

The manager arrived, the cashier told him about the poop in aisle five, and the young man looked tired beyond his years as he closed his eyes, heaved a heavy sigh, and went off to deal with the poop. Again, though—he was not shocked.

On the way home, my daughter and I discussed the provenance of the poo. And while it’s not out of the question that it might have been canine…well, it looked human. But how would one accomplish such a task? Surely squatting down in aisle five would be noticed by a customer if not by one of the three store employees.

Perhaps it was someone wearing loose-fitting shorts. Or perhaps someone smuggled in the poo in a ziploc bag and then dropped it! Or maybe it really was a dog!

I would very much like to review the store’s security camera footage, but I don’t think they let random true crime enthusiasts off the street do that, so it seems that the Aisle 5 Mystery will remain forever unsolved!

(I know I post a lot of satirical things on here that I purport to be true, but this is a totally true story. I have included a photo for the skeptical. You’ve been warned.)