Althea wrinkled her nose and frowned, as she pulled on a deep-rooted weed in the flower bed. Looking towards Bob, who was considering their ongoing aphid problem, she shouted to him over the roar of the Saturday lawnmowers. "Bob! That egg salad you made is off! It stinks all the way out here! Throw it out!"
Bob, puzzled, yelled back, "I didn't make any eg..."
The natural gas blast leveled their home, blew out windows for blocks, and sent Althea and Bob flying skyward. They landed separately in the yards of their two adjacent neighbors, neither of whom they liked.
© Copyright 2008- Marianne Spellman