If you've been a reader of this website for more than, say, the past five minutes, chances are good that you're already familiar with the amount of letters that we receive from readers looking for help. Many of these amazing pieces of penmanship get collated into our P.Net Mailbag, where I go through and respond to those that deserve it most in the best way I know how: by ridiculing them. Well, it should come as no surprise to anyone that I'm not the only one around the P.Net Campus with the ability and desire to ridicule others.

Up until this point, I have managed to keep the wolves at bay and deter any of the other writers from putting their grubby hands all over my mailbags. This is my show and you're not about to steal it. With that said, I do have to admit that every so often, we receive a letter from a reader asking for advice and it would be downright criminal if I didn't let the rest of the gang in on the replying. Yes, I realize that I am a great writer on my own but I'm that much better if five other people help me with it. Plus I have more free time to prank call Orly Taitz and tell her what a wonderful person she is.

So, with all of that prefaced, I am happy to announce the start of a new article series where I get the rest of the PNC crew together and we offer up our special brand of advice to people who need it most, thus cementing their downward spiral into a whirlpool of despair. (Man, that is some straight Edgar Allen Poe shit right there.) Let's dive in to this week's letter and see what this whole thing is all about.

Dear P.Net,
Last night about 9pm I was sitting on my back porch having a cigarette. I stepped inside to talk to my wife, grabbed a beer and headed back outside. I immediately noticed a puddle that had formed on my deck while I was inside. I thought it was odd and mentioned it to my wife. She came out, looked at it and determined it (by smell) to be piss. I grabbed a flashlight and hopped on a chair to see what the deal was, as we could see that it was dripping from the roof.

It was a big pile of shit.

Figuring it to be either a big animal or a human, I went back inside to get a gun and my wife went to our neighbors house, as they were in their garage, to see if they heard or saw anything. We all met in the back yard, and wandered around looking for any signs of trespass. Then, my wife went to go inside to check on our baby, asleep at that time. She found the door to have been locked behind us, and it only locks from the inside. We were all outside.

The baby was inside with whoever locked the door.

With gun in hand, I immediately hauled ass around to the front of the house while my wife followed, screaming at the neighbors to call 911. I burst through the front door and ran to the back of the house and into the baby's room. She was fast asleep in the crib, so I started running around kicking doors open, checking closets, turning lights on. Nothing and no one. We got the baby and went outside to wait on the cops.

When they arrived, we explained the situation, all looked at the poop, and checked all around the house. After checking the fence alongside the house, the shingles were smashed down as if someone was standing on the fence and dragging themselves up. No other evidence was found, besides the obvious leavings.

Possibly a kid playing a prank, but that is a dangerous game to play when in Texas and putting my wife and child in danger. Honestly I don't even know if there was actually anyone inside at any point. It has never happened before but I suppose in the excitement the door could have locked itself, though I have no clue how.

We don't normally lock any doors unless we are going out of town, but I guess we will have to start that now, and it sucks. Sucks to feel violated. Assuming no one was inside, do you guys know of an animal that can take a human size shit, then piss on the shit, and do it all on a roof?

Any advice that you can give would help alleviate our anxiety.

Thanks,
Ron C.

Dear Ron, thank you for sending in this wonderful letter. It is quite clear that you and your wife have been traumatized greatly by this event but you can rest easy now knowing that the P.Net Advice Squad is on the case. You asked for advice on roof-shitting, you got it.

RP: It was probably a grizzly bear or something. I had one of those bastards take a dump on my roof a few months ago. I didn't have a gun though, so I offered my baby to appease it.

Reggie: It was probably you and you're sleep-shitting on the roof. Tie yourself to your bed tonight and see if it happens again. If not, you know why.

Skip Walker: If it is you, don't forget to shoot yourself.

RP: You should probably shoot everyone and everything nearby, just to be on the safe side.

Art: Buy your baby a tiny gun. Then shit on him and throw him on the roof.

J.Truth: It's your wife fucking with you. Your wife shits on your roof.

Art: Maybe the shit was there first and your house was accidentally built under it?

Rad Tad: Your house was built over the remains of an Indian outhouse. Enjoy ghost poop all over the place you white skinned devil.

Skip Walker: I think that you are over thinking this way too much. The house simply had to poop and pee, so it did. And then it locked the guy out as a joke. What's the big deal?

Reggie: A moose was totally on your roof, relieving itself.

J.Truth: Check your attic. They're still in there.

RP: The poop is coming from INSIDE THE HOUSE.

Rad Tad: THERE IS A SECOND SHITMAN ON THE GRASSY KNOLL.

J.Truth: A SECOND SHIT HAS HIT THE ROOF.

Reggie: Oh Christ, are there any survivors!?! Why is this happening to Texas!

Art: I think this calls for a special CSI-type reconstruction of the crime scene. The only thing left for you to do at this point is shit on your own roof and then attempt to crawl inside your house and lock your baby's door from the inside. If this is possible, then you know something is awry.

J.Truth: First, though, shit on your roof.

Rad Tad: Shoot the poop first, ask the turd questions later. This is a motto I live by.

Reggie: If it shits we can kill it.

RP: Imagine if this had happened after Obama takes your guns away.

Skip Walker: Now you'll never be able to have a cigarette on your porch again without glancing over your shoulder at roofs to see if someone is pooping on one of them and staring at you.

Art: Wait a second! What if it was a werewolf? They are known to be pranksters and I wouldn't put it past one of those wacky lycan to drop a turd on your roof and run around making you nervous and messing with your head. Buy silver bullets.

Rad Tad: Whoa, whoa, whoa. Werewolf? No way man, it'd have to be something that could lay a turd and remain stealthy. I think we're talking leprechaun-vampire here. Twice as deadly and immune to silver. You need magical golden-rainbow bullets or you're gonna just piss it off. This thing is small, fast, and can roof-shit from thirty feet away.

RP: Phantom roof shitter.

J.Truth: Admit it Texas, you were hoping it was a Mexican.

Reggie: Suddenly, I have the desire to shit on someone's roof.

Skip Walker: On a serious note, what is with all of the running around and kicking in the doors of your own house?

RP: Hey, if the guy can constantly afford to replace his doors, why shouldn't he always enter rooms by kicking down the door? I mean it's cooler than knocking and guarantees that you'll get some space at the sink in the bathroom. It also cures hiccups and plenty of other things. I wrote about a book about it.

Reggie: Just don't go overboard and answer your door with a gun every time someone knocks. That's just asking for trouble.

Art: "Oh no! I shot a girl scout selling cookies door-to-door because I live in Texas and she was on my property without asking."

Skip Walker: Well, to give credit to Texas, girl scouts are notorious for causing trouble in neighborhoods and I wouldn't be surprised if it was a girl scout who caused all of this mischief.

Rad Tad: Seriously, my neighborhood has been overrun with girl scouts shitting on roofs. It's where the nickname Brownies came from. True story, check Wikipedia.

Reggie: Won't someone think of the children? This roof-shitting madness has to stop!

Art: What are roofs for anyway if not to quietly defecate on?

J.Truth: Is a man not entitled to shit on his own roof? Or his neighbors?

RP: I am making, right now, a tiny replica of what I think your house looks like out of toothpicks and Popsicle sticks that I found in the garbage. When it's done, I'll put it on the ground in my back yard and poop on it.

Well Ron, hopefully the advice offered by our panel of expert professionals has done enough to alleviate you and your wife of any anxiety that you may have left. If not, take some downers and chill the fuck out because you don't need to be running around with a gun and kicking in the door to your baby's bedroom for some random shit on a roof. Next time, try inviting the random roof-shitter inside for a beer and you guys can laugh about the whole thing while you make him do the dishes. It's only fair.