
Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407
The garden was a kaleidoscope of pastel eggs, yet an unmistakable stench was wafting over the tulips like a mischievous cloud of teen rebellion. “Cory, do you smell that?” Felicity whispered, the same way a detective would whisper about a clue in a noir film. I inhaled deeply, feeling the pungent aroma coil around my nostrils. We both knew that somewhere among the plastic toy eggs hid the source of this olfactory offense.
I never thought an Easter egg hunt could turn into a forensic diaper investigation but there we were. Both Felicity and I were swaddled in our favorite sexy “Mama” dresses and armed with nothing but our noses and an absurdly over‑ambitious sense of duty. We started at the base of the old oak tree and followed the scent trail like a pair of highly trained sleuths. Each step brought us closer to a whiff of something that could only be described as “rotten booty.”
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