Chapter One––––––––
Myrtle’s ancient yardman opened up the back door, not bothering to wipe his boots on the mat, and trampled through the kitchen and living room all the way to Myrtle’s front door.
Dusty was completely incompetent as a yardman, but this degree of sloppiness was a stretch, even for him. His wife, Puddin, was equally appalled. She was resentfully slapping a dust rag at Myrtle’s coffee table when she stopped and stared at the red mud tracking in behind her husband. “Hey!” she shouted. “I ain’t cleaning that up, Dusty! You get back here! You can clean up yer own messes.”
Dusty was reaching for the door handle when Myrtle bellowed, “Your shoes, Dusty! And, you haven’t finished the backyard yet! It still looks like a jungle back there.”
Dusty glared at Myrtle, and gave a mu
