You’re wrapping up a long, cold night of collecting vital evidence, and what do you know, you almost step on a sample of humankind’s most abundant product: a rude, warm, steamy pile of homo sapien squeeze.
You called it poop when you were a kid, but whatever you call it, it’s been following you around ever since: weighing on you, demanding your undivided attention at times, making those silly, vulgar, hateful noises. Now it has invaded your worklife. What should you do? My God, you found a turd fouling your beautiful crime scene!
Give up. You heard me. Leave! Pack up your little kit, find the agent in charge, and tell him no, this too much, I’m going home, get out of my way, this is not who I am, no, no, no!
Is it too late for me to become a priest?
Calm down. Tomorrow is your day off, you got over 30 hours of uninterupted drinking ahead of you. Focus on that.
So. Easy. One step at a time.
Before touching the specimem, put on a pair of latex glove. Shit happens to pick up fingerprints well, that is, if the criminal didn’t think to wipe it down first.
Carefully weigh the nasty thing, time stamp it, and assign it a 0 to 9 score. Drop it carefully in a plastic bag, resist the urge to squeeze it and don’t throw it at anybody.
Flee! Your mind is a filthy cloud, but you must find your car. If you hitched a ride from somebody at the office, steal another car and go home. You got four fifths of vodka waiting. As you are driving, look at yourself in the rear view. That flea hopping off the end of your nose – is this the last of your dignity?