The Tale of the Lost Coin

I ate a penny. It wasn't my proudest moment. Some say I love coins so much that I wanted them to be a part of me. And for this penny, it was. For a week. Mommy called the doc. Her assignment: find that penny and don't rest until you do (well, maybe not quite so dramatic). Those first two days were the worst. Mommy, with grocery bags covering her hands, sifted through my doo in search of the Lost Coin. It wasn't pretty. It didn't smell pretty either. But, lo, what was that we saw packed away in the corner? Could it be? Oh please, let it be....a metal detector! Eureka! Mommy's poop sifting days had quickly come to an end. We cranked that baby up. And, sure enough, it beeped right on my belly. So, day after day, my belly was scanned. Beep after beep, we sat, waiting, hoping, praying, for the Lost Coin to reappear. Until, one day, there was silence. After several scans we finally realized, the Lost Coin was found. Well, sort of. We never did see it. But I'm sure it's somewhere down the winding tunnels of pipes enjoying what might resemble a ride at White Water. Perhaps its already made its plunge into the sewage pool below. Who knows? But what we do know is that I can now pass through airport security hassle free.