“Alright. Are we bringing it around back?” The second asked. The rusty hinge nodded and with a dramatic flip of her cropped cut hair, she continued on her trajectory through the house and into the back yard.
Mortimer paid no notice to the second woman who had now rushed out through the front door to aid in her friend’s mission of corrupting the sanctity of his home, for at that moment he was plagued by a particularly unpleasant rumble from his digestive tract.
He must do something about these pesky physiological urges quickly, for they had already interrupted his focus and now his attention had been driven away from a very critical matter: Her Mistress Esquirer. She was a masterpiece. A chef-d"œuvre, even! She would be Mortimer’s magnum opus.
But something was missing.
Mortimer kne
