A few weeks ago, Otis told me I was wasting my money.
I asked him if he meant the breakfast I’d just bought him but he said it was everything I spent my money on.
I don’t know what brought on that exclamation – and he was laughing as he said it – but I looked him dead in the eye and told him I was much better than I used to be.
And I am.
Oh my god, the shit I’ve spent my cash on.
From remote control balls and robot dogs – lots of robot dogs – through to … well, stuff that cost a lot more than either of those gadget stupidity.
Even Jill told Otis I was much better, which I consider one of my life’s true achievements.
And that would be the end of the story had my colleague not had the shittest weekend ever recently.
Without going into too much detail, they discovered their toilet plumbing had decided to impersonate a fountain underneath their entire house.
A fountain of shit.
It was so disgusting and deplorable that even the professional shit specialist plumber announced, “For fuck’s sake mate” when he saw the photos sent to him.
I don’t mind admitting that I found this hilarious.
Please don’t mistake my laughter for revenge – I really, really like this colleague – but it was so horrific, that you had to laugh.
And laugh I did … everytime I told someone about it.
My family.
My friends.
They even walked in on me telling a client who had just flown in from Australia.
But I appreciate that while I found it funny … for them, it was no laughing matter.
Which is why I decided to make it up to them by buying them a present.
This …
Yep, they’re very own ‘shit cup’.
Not – as Jill first thought – a cup made from the shit in my colleagues garden [what sort of psychopath does she think I am] but a cup featuring photos of the shit in his garden.
Which is far more hygienic and thoughtful.
But as horrified as my colleague is, I’ve given them an even better gift.
Because the next time they see Otis, they can show him their present and tell him:
“Hey Otis, you’re right. Your Daddy does spends his money on shit. Literally.”