“DUSTY! HAVE YOU LOST your mind? What’s all the ruckus about?” Myrtle brandished her cane at him as his dire imprecations continued.
“Yer gnome! It bit my w**d trimmer!” howled Dusty.
“What did you do to my gnome?” demanded Myrtle.
“What did I do?” Dusty scowled at her.
“Yes! Because you’re the one with the power tool. The poor gnomes are completely defenseless.” She peered closer. “That’s my ‘gone fishing’ gnome! One of my favorites.”
Dusty said, “Why’s it got a rope hangin’ off it? Killed off my trimmer!”
“It’s supposed to be a fishing line, Dusty. It’s hanging from the little guy’s pole. Haven’t you ever gone fishing?” asked Myrtle.
“Not with no rope, I ain’t.”
“Well the manufacturers couldn’t very well use fishing line or it wouldn’t be durable,” said Myrtle.
“It done got wou
