It had been one thing after another for a long time now. "It's just a rough patch" said her sister, the bitch.
When the clickety clacking started, she'd had enough. Out she went, with her phone and in her slippers. She'd rue the slippers later while she mopped her floors and shampooed her carpets to get rid of the germs that would be all over her house from the bottoms of those slippers. Normally she would not wear them outside, but this clickety clacking necessitated harder measures.
So out she went with her phone and in her slippers. To the street. To the middle of the street. Where she stopped that horse drawn cart from going any further on her block.
"HALT!" she cried. "The town council has decreed that thou shall not drive your carts on village streets unless your horse is wearing a diaper. I am calling the police!"
The man in the seat cocked his head concernedly, but said nothing.
She became purple in the face. She started jumping up and down in her pink slippers. She exclaimed
"Your horse's shit (he winced at the vulgarity) is toxic to humans and you spread it all over the street!"
He looked at her perplexed.
As she stomped back to the house to do her citizen's duty of reporting a crime, she was very careful to avoid the horse excrement.
Squish
She stepped smack dab in the middle of a huge mound of steaming dog excrement that had been recently left in her front lawn.
This is my entry to @mariannewest's daily freewrite challenge. Today's prompt is clickety clack.
I live near a large Amish community, and there are often horse-drawn carriages on the streets of the village. There are also often arguments at the town council meetings about horse droppings in the streets. I don't mind the horse poop in the streets - it dries quickly and is easy to avoid. But the hard-to-see dog poop on my front lawn irks me quite a bit. I have to walk in my front yard as if it were a mine field.
