The Night of the Doodoo Leopard

Seven thousand tonnes of snow. Bitter frost. I had to trek miles forwards for even a glimpse of light in this frozen over, barren wasteland.

It was very cold, I was tired of walking and seeing more darkness than light. While I was walking, a tree branch fell on my head and I fall down on the snowy ground.

"As if the night couldn't get any worse..", you try to say to no one in particular. You rub the sore spot on your head and feel a bit of blood running down your fingers and onto the snow. Overall, fine. Just some blood. Better be on my way before the weather eats me up whole.

That’s when the murder of crows appears. Circling just above your reach, cawing and occasionally diving at you. You can shoo away individual birds, but you can’t stop them all. Your break into a trot with your arms over your head. “It can’t get worse” you whisper.

Just then, the murder of crows swarm together above you, blotting out the sun. A sudden shower pelts at you from above. What’s this? A thunderstorm? No, a literal sh*tstorm. “I must have been a traitor in my past life, I can’t believe I have to deal with this sh*t.”

Your jacket, trousers, head & neck become polka-dotted with white & black crow droppings. Glimpsing your reflection in a window you think, "I look like a doo-doo leopard." Inspiration hits & you rush home to write "Poo Cats", the 1st in a series of heart-warming children's books.