© Ellen Glimstad

Gotta go!

Write an ending to this story. Use your imagination, as well as information on the sign.

As usual, mom shouted upstairs about ten times that it was my turn. As usual, I pretended I hadn’t heard, but would you believe it, she barged into my room and said I’d be grounded if I refused. “You’re gonna need this,” she said, shoving a pooper scooper and a bag into my hand. Gross! I left them by the front door. Buddy and I just race round the block and he does his business in our backyard when we get back. Much easier. But uh-oh, not today.

Gotta go!