Man bag

He's back. The condom perpetrator in my hood is back. He'd gone dark months ago. In fact, I thought he might've either contracted some more glamorous position, such as "crack vial discarder", but alas he still graces the gutters of my street with his DNA wrapped cleverly in laytex.

Just this week I was fortunate to find a pale sheath laying in the gutter by my house. It had been raining, and there was something of the non-flora variety of usual detritus in the gutter. On closer inspection it was a spent vessel.

Immediately I knew what that meant: he was back. I don't have clear evidence of who "he" is. It's been theorized that he is a neighbor or one of many johns in a clandestine suburban prostitution ring. I'm a member of the former school of thought, as a certain neighbor around the corner has two sons who are of age, and likely engaging in such activity. Why they choose to do it in (I'm guessing) a car in front of their mom's house is something I can't understand, nor the discarding of such personal material in such close proximity.

My strongest, albeit far-fetched, theory is that he is an alien trying to disseminate his seed via the sewage system, as he is somehow related to Cthulhu. Perhaps it's a pre-emptive strike to mutate us all into above sea level R'lyehians.

Regardless, I'll be installing a motion activated night vision wifi cams in several strategic locations in order to catch the ejaculator in the act of disposing of the evidence in such an un-neighborly manner. Maybe I'll also film the elusive owner of the dog, who is allowed to wander up on my lawn to empty his man-sized, Alpo-powered bowels on my lawn. Jeez, that'd be swell.