As she scurried away, she did not see Mortimer as he turned and lumbered precariously away from the house and out through the gate.
***
Percy stood by his father staring into the open door of the fairground outhouse.
“You want the poop?”
“I want it,” Jeb confirmed.
“How do you reckon we get it outta there?”
“Buckets, of course. How else?” Jeb looked at his son. Sometimes he wished Percy was just a bit more intelligent.
“Buckets. Right,” Percy nodded. Then he looked up at his father, “is it legal to steal s**t from the outhouses?”
“We’re doing the city a favor is how I see it.” Jeb put his hands in the front pockets of his pants. “Saves them the trouble of doing it themselves.”
“True,” Percy agreed. “And you’ll dump it on the fields.”
“Yeah, it’s a secret recipe though. Don’
