I pooped 💩 today

Previously

…The chapter concluded with Bartholomew staring at the defeated vacuum, then at the smugly stationary Sir Reginald, a profound realization dawning on him. Conventional methods were utterly useless. He needed a new approach, one that acknowledged the bizarre, the absurd, the downright unbelievable nature of his ‘problem’ rather than trying to force it into a conventional solution. The scent in the park, once a simple olfactory offense, had now evolved into a symphony of despair and fermentation, a testament to Bartholomew’s spectacular, and utterly hilarious, failure.