By Celeste Conner on March 29, 2014
Emma recounted to me what SB said. Emma remembered how upset SB had been. Emma said, “I saw it. It was poop, and he ate it. They all made up a story to make SB feel better and to keep Wilson from being embarrassed.”
Did Wilson eat the poop? Emma says he did. SB says he didn’t. Tight-lipped Wilson won’t tell.
I can picture them now in a future old folks’ home, reminiscing and arguing about the details. Certainly by then, the truth will have been long forgotten.
Perhaps, the answers to mysteries do not want to be uncovered. Once the truth is known, the curious move on to other topics. No one talks about who shot JR anymore. We want Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson to solve another murder. We want Indiana Jones to unearth another artifact. We want the Pink Panther to be stolen yet again. We want Inspector Clouseau to track down the thief one more time.
Did Wilson eat the poop? I hope I never find out.
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