Margie looked up from the tulip bed to see Doc walk out of the house and Bridger, Doc’s hired hand, come through the gate.
“Mornin’, Doc. How’s it goin’?”
“Good, Bridger. How about you?”
“Things are dandy this mornin’ Doc. What da ya want me to work on taday?” Bridger asked.
“Could you see if you can fix the back gate again? Seems like something is always happening to it. I can’t figure it out,” Doc responded.
“Will do. Think I heard a rumor that you were about to have a birthday,” Bridger said, changing the subject.
“You hush. I’ve decided I’m not having any more birthdays,” said Doc.
“Ya don’t have to count. Ya just have to celebrate. That’s the fun of it. I say we have a birthday week! Let’s celebrate in style. Ya deserve it.”
“A birthday week might wear this old coot out, Doc said. “Always like a good piece of cake though. Lots of cream cheese frosting. Man, that’s larapin*.”
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