These are no longer mere dog poop bags.
They are cursed talismans forged in the ninth circle of the Petco clearance aisle.
They know what you did last summer.
They remember every time you pretended the poop wasn’t yours.
Pros (if “pros” can still exist in this timeline):
• Scent profile: “Eau de Alpine Unicorn Fart” — so aggressively optimistic it gaslights your olfactory nerves into believing you’re inhaling spring rain instead of 400°F Satan’s meatloaf. Lasts 1.4 seconds before the true form reveals itself: despair concentrate.
• Can theoretically contain the entire digestive output of a dire wolf that ate an IKEA meatball truck. I once watched Mr. Pickles deposit something that looked like a rolled-up yoga mat made of regret. Bag didn’t even blink. It just sighed like it’s seen worse on Tuesday.
• The lavender is now so powerful my dog levitates slightly after pooping, convinced he’s achieved enlightenment. Neighbors think he’s doing hot yoga mid-dump.
• Dispenser compatibility: slides into those bone-shaped holsters like it’s fulfilling an ancient prophecy. You look like a medieval squire carrying Excalibur, except Excalibur is full of warm dookie.
Cons (where physics files for divorce):
• “Easy tear” perforations are a war crime. They require you to channel the raw strength of a thousand disappointed gym teachers. The plastic just stretches… and stretches… until it becomes a new dimension of suffering. I once pulled for 47 seconds straight while a chihuahua audience formed a judgmental semicircle.
• Spontaneous unrolling has evolved into full demonic possession. Pocket opens itself at 3:17 a.m. You wake up wrapped in biodegradable shame like a sad burrito. The bags whisper “you can’t leave us” in crinkle language.
• “Leak-proof” is now legally actionable false advertising. When Mr. Pickles activates Poop Mode: Reverse Vesuvius Edition™, the bag inflates, rotates 720°, achieves low Earth orbit for 0.8 seconds, then returns as a sad, dripping piñata of lavender doom. My left Air Force 1 is now considered a biohazard site by the EPA.
• New party trick: occasionally the bag makes the exact sound of a deflating whoopee cushion being sat on by an elephant… underwater… during an earthquake… at a funeral.
