SAMPLE

It’s one of the traditions of our morning minyan group: when you are observing a yahrzeit (the anniversary of the death of a loved one) or a birthday, you buy breakfast for everyone.  Thus it was that, in a slight deviation from the usual Breakfasty Rotation, we had today’s morning repast at the Local Bagel and Smoked Fish Emporium where we normally dine on Tuesdays and Fridays.

It’s the safest place in northeast Georgia, owing to the presence of anywhere from two to a dozen of Cobb County’s Finest.  No doubt they are attracted by the prospect of eating Toroidal Foodstuffs:  Anything that resembles a doughnut is fair game for the boys in blue.  (And just in case any of ’em are reading this, just kidding, guys!)

One of the gentlemen who was sitting next to me - Mayer, a jocular fellow in his upper 80’s - asked me a most unbreakfasty question: “Wanna see my stool sample?”

When an individual of a certain age asks a question like that, anything is possible.

Of course, being Elisson, I had to say yes.  And of course, he being Mayer, I knew what was coming: