Stryker's On Doody

09/11/2026

We Already Handle the Sh*t… Might as Well Mow the Grass Too! 😂🌱

08/19/2026

Did you lose your summer helper to school? No worries give Stryker's On Doody a call or text 3078812675 we offer bi weekly, weekly, and twice a week service.

07/07/2026

"Don't let your dog write checks your shoes have to cash."

06/23/2026

06/10/2026

THE DAD WHO COULDN'T BUY A HIT

It started out as a simple game.
Dad stepped up to the plate, adjusted his batting gloves, and took a deep breath.
He'd been waiting all week for this.
The crowd cheered.
Nova barked from the dugout.
Little Sampson sat proudly in the batboy bucket, convinced he was part of the coaching staff.
The pitcher wound up.
Dad swung.
STRIKE ONE.
The crowd gasped.
Dad looked down.
There it was.
A dog turd stuck to his cleat.
He scraped it off and stepped back into the box.
The pitcher threw again.
Dad swung.
STRIKE TWO.
What now?!
Another turd.
This one had somehow migrated directly into the batter's box.
The defensive turds were getting smarter.
Dad could feel them watching.
Waiting.
Mocking him.
The pitcher grinned.
The turds grinned.
Even the neighborhood squirrels looked concerned.
Dad stepped back in.
The third pitch came screaming toward the plate.
Dad planted his foot...
And immediately slipped.
His cleat found a hidden turd.
He spun like a confused ballerina and landed flat on his back.
STRIKE THREE.
The crowd fell silent.
Then, from beyond the outfield fence, came laughter.
Not human laughter.
Turd laughter.
The Gang Piles.
The Don of Doody himself stood atop a mountain of p**p.
"Another one falls!" he cackled.
The turd army erupted in celebration.
Dad hung his head.
How could one man keep up?
Every weekend was the same.
More p**p.
More piles.
More strikes.
More humiliation.
Then something caught his eye.
A business card.
Half buried in the grass.
Like a message from the heavens.
It read:
STRYKER'S ON DOODY
Dad pulled out his phone.
📞 307-881-2675
Within days, everything changed.
The first cleanup wiped out the Gang Piles.
The defensive turds lost their home field advantage.
The Don of Doody was sent packing.
The backyard was clean.
The grass was visible again.
The smell was gone.
The next Saturday, Dad stepped back into the batter's box.
The pitcher threw.
Dad swung.
CRACK!
The ball soared.
Gone.
Home run.
Nova lost her mind.
Sampson fell out of the batboy bucket.
The crowd erupted.
Dad rounded the bases with tears in his eyes.
Not because of the home run.
But because for the first time in years...
He could walk across his yard without stepping in dog p**p.
⚾ FATHER'S DAY SPECIAL ⚾
20% OFF YOUR FIRST CLEAN
For New Clients
📞 307-881-2675
Stryker's On Doody
We Knock The Turds Out Of The Park.
🐾 YOUR S🐾🐾T IS OUR BUSINESS 🐾
"Stop striking out against the turds. Let us put them in the outfield seats." 😆💩⚾

06/03/2026

🎣 The Tragic Tale of Dad, the Fish, and the Forbidden Backyard 💩

It was the kind of morning Dad dreams about.
The sun was up.
The cooler was packed.
The tackle box was organized for the first time since 2017.
The fish were practically sending invitations.
Dad crept toward the door with his pole in hand, moving quieter than a raccoon near a trash can.
Then he heard it.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Dad froze.
His wife stood there with crossed arms and the sacred list of doom:
Chores.
Trash.
Garage.
And worst of all…
The backyard.
Dad slowly looked outside.
The dog p**p had multiplied overnight.
There were piles by the fence.
Piles near the grill.
One pile sitting in the middle of the yard like it paid rent.
Dad’s fishing dreams began to sink.
His wife said,
“You can go fishing after the yard is cleaned.”
Dad looked at his pole.
Then the yard.
Then the pole again.
A tear almost fell.
But then Dad remembered…
He had a secret weapon.
He reached into his pocket and called:
Stryker’s On Doody
📞 307-881-2675
Before long, the yard was cleared, the wife was happy, and Dad was back on the road to the lake.
The fish never stood a chance.
Father’s Day Special
20% OFF your first clean for new clients
Serving Guernsey, Hartville, Wheatland, Ft. Laramie & Lingle, WY.
YOUR S🐾🐾T IS OUR BUSINESS

06/01/2026

A Father's Day Horror Story
Across Wyoming, dads are beginning to report the same terrifying dream...
It starts with a peaceful walk to the grill.
Then they see it.
A turd.
Dad runs and turns right.
DEFENSIVE TURD.
Dad turns left.
BASEBALL SLIDE INTO ANOTHER TURD.
Panic sets in.
He looks up...
Only to find the legendary Gang Piles staring down from the hill, laughing as they grow stronger by the day.
Dad tries to fight back.
He tries to keep up.
But the turds have taken the yard.
His flip-flops are ruined.
His dignity is gone.
His burgers are getting cold.
And just when all hope seems lost...
Dad reaches into his pocket.
📞 307-881-2675
A distant rumble echoes across the neighborhood.
The gates swing open.
The trucks arrive.
STRYKER'S ON DOODY.
The Defensive Turds fall.
The Gang Piles scatter.
The Yard Kingdom is reclaimed.
Soon Dad is running routes, flipping burgers, tossing footballs, and walking freely once again.
No slipping.
No sliding.
No surprise attacks.
Just victory.
Stryker's On Doody
💩 Weekly Service 💩 Bi-Weekly Service 💩 Twice Weekly Service 💩 Monthly Service
20% OFF FIRST CLEAN FOR NEW CLIENTS
YOUR S🐾🐾T IS OUR BUSINESS 🐾
This Father's Day, don't let the turds win. 🏆💩🍔

05/19/2026

The only crap Dad should deal with is losing online 😂