Mmmmm.

    Good idea.

    You proceed to poop on the sidewalk.

    But wait!

    You can't just eat it without silverware!

    That would be such a faux pas.

    You walk inside the house.

    "Who the hell are you?" asks Poppy.

    "I'm your son," you say.  "And I'm getting a fork and a knife so I can go outside and eat my own poop."

    "Well," says Poppy.  "No son of mine is going to eat his own poop on the sidewalk all alone."

    He follows you out to the front of the house, and you enjoy a fine meal of recycled food while Poppy smokes his ever-present pipe and regails you with stories about the time he hurdled the fence in the backyard once just to beat the bejeezus out of a woodchuck in his garden.

    That evening, you start smoking a pipe.