Joyful Reaper

By Joyful

Backyard Full

We arrived home to discover that our trees had discarded leaves like they were drunken sailors with newly heavy wallets at a house of pleasure. They were dry and brittle. Walking through them caused a dinn that rivaled a marching band. After an hour's work with the blower they were all out in the alley and the city's problem. . . . . . . Until I get the bill for clean-up.

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