She’s dying a slow death from Alzheimer’s. See, I came back to Mirabeau several months ago to help take care of my mother. But I felt guilty about not pulling my weight at home by staying out all night. I don’t feel contrition about spending time with Candace her company is pure pleasure. I’d spent the night at my girlfriend Candace’s house and I wasn’t quite over the guilt. (The answer was no.) I wondered if someone bore long-buried hatred for Clyda (or Pepper) Tepper or Fred Boolfors.
I found myself checking if anyone had borrowed books on explosives or if any returned tomes featured wires sticking out of them with attached timers. My name is Jordan Poteet and I run the library in Mirabeau. At that point, with two pipe-bomb explosions in town, people began to get a mite nervous, myself among them. She was undoubtedly put out at having to sleep in a common dog bed.Ĭlyda was sure Pepper was the target of some anticanine campaign and claimed to see poodle-hating Iraqis lurking around every corner. Fortunately Pepper was off at Le Pooch Salon in Bavary getting her nails clipped. Anyhow, about three days after Fred’s toolshed kissed the sky, so did Pepper’s chateau. Rumor had it that Clyda had installed a little stereo system to play “La Marseillaise” when Pepper entered. It was a miniature version of a French chateau, complete with wood trim, a slate roof, and a little tiny flagpole with French and Texan flags. Probably adorned with giant bows on their heads and asses.Ĭlyda also spared no expense on Pepper’s doghouse. God only knows how she would have sent them dressed to school. Pepper is Clyda’s pride and joy-and that woman has spent unholy amounts of money to make that canine look as stupid as possible. No wonder the French are so rude with dogs like that around. Pepper’s the most spoiled, orneriest French poodle you can imagine.
#Is bakoma tex still actively developed full
I should explain that no one here calls Pepper by her full name except her owner, Clyda Tepper. The police were investigating the remains of Fred’s shed when Pepper Tepper’s doghouse got blown sky-high. No one was hurt, but I think his immediate neighbors were pissed that their trimmers were returned in small pieces. Early one Monday morning it popped open like a jack-in-the-box on fire-spewing trash, back issues of Playboy, and Fred’s unparalleled collection of borrowed lawn-care tools fifty feet in the air. The first local landmark to go was Fred Boolfors’s toolshed.
I mean, we did need a little excitement-but no one in his right mind thought explosives were required. There wasn’t much to begin with in Mirabeau, so I was awful surprised when someone started blowing up parts of town.
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