Granny & Pooch VS the Garbage Mafia

Granny & Pooch VS the Garbage Mafia

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By W.E. Powelson

Copyright 2014 W.E. Powelson

This story is a work of fiction. Any similarities to persons living or dead is purely and almost absolutely (pretty much) coincidental, except for Granny Ann. (She knows who she is.)

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, organizations and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

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Introduction

What happned to the Mafia?

Maybe they're still here but hiding in

plain sight, next door?

(A word to the wise: Don't ignore the barking dog.)

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Acknowledgements

Many thanks to Jenny (Ann) Anderson

of McMinnville Tennessee,

for the editing and very helpful

story and plot ideas.

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Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Introduction

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1: A Neighbor So Still.

Chapter 2: Illegal Entry!

Chapter 3: Surprise Packages!

Chapter 4: CSI, (Just Like TV).

Chapter 5: Counting and Sifting.

The Manuscript: A Brief History of ED.

Chapter 6: Windfalls Aren't Always Risk Free.

Chapter 7: Unpleasantness.

Chapter 8: A Frightening Visitor.

Chapter 9: Meeting Sweet Ellen.

Chapter 10: Illegal Entry #2.

Chapter 11: Healthy Living Is a Duty.

Chapter 12: Even Snoops Have Moral Obligations.

Chapter 13: A Short Trip To Right A Wrong.

Chapter 14: Caution Is For Cowards!

Chapter 15: Bonding With a Young Friend.

Chapter 16: Major Developments Next Door.

Chapter 17: New Mafia Neighbors; So Sweet.

Chapter 18: Gym Friends.

Chapter 19: A Mafioso Hello.

Chapter 20: Puppy-Love In Full Bloom.

Chapter 21: Good Friends & Clues Can't Be Ignored . . .

Chapter 22: A Millionaire And His Yacht.

Chapter 23: Friends (Plus . . .)

Chapter 24: Connections At The Top.

Chapter 25: A Fond Farewell to Sunset.

End

Epilogue

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Chapter 1: A Neighbor So Still.

It was late. A lonesome Doberman named 'Pooch' howled a cup of tears as if lamenting an owner who might never return. The constant yelping and whining awoke 73-year-old Granny Ann in the house next door.

Ellen Ann White was known to the kids in the neighborhood as the Wonderful Witch of Waymore Circle but almost everyone who knew her called her Granny Ann. Her long, stringy, gray hair hung limply over her shoulders and down her back. A wisp of unruly hair hung over one eye and was a constant nuisance. She tried to keep it pinned back but a few errant strands always seemed to fall across her right eye. She needed a new do, but she had put it off as an extra expense should really couldn't afford at the moment. Her current state of poverty remained in a constant flux of varied deterioration. It didn't appear as though she would get the new hairdo any time soon.

Granny Ann, as most people called her, was lean and petite weighing only 100 pounds. All but one of her upper front teeth were gone except for one lone incisor. She bore the classic look of the Wicked Witch of the West, but her heart was pure and absolute gold. She sort of enjoyed her status as the Wonderful Witch of Waymore Circle. It thrilled her immensely to give the kids a fun touch of Halloween all year long.

There wasn't a mean bone in her body and all the kids knew it. She loved playing the little game of make-believe with them, but she was always ready every Halloween with the best treats in the neighborhood. The big-eyed children would look at her in awe and fear, then take the treats and run from the yard, giggling and laughing as though they had teased a Dragon and lived to tell about it. One year a few of the meaner kids had papered the trees out front of her house. As she awoke the next morning the toilet paper streamers hung from every limb. It hurt her feelings for a little while.

Interestingly enough; later that day, an entire squad of local teenagers with ladders

converged onto her property. They knocked on her door and apologized; saying that they knew who had done it, but that they were there to take it all down for her. She just smiled and thanked them with a lovely twinkle in her sparkling and moistened hazel eyes. As a reward she gave them two entire bags of leftover Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. Most of the kids knew she wasn't really a witch.

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Of course Ann had been quite attractive as a youth, but time, economics and fate were treating her unkindly as she aged. She looked a fright, especially on this particular blustery November night in 2014. She hadn't been outside all day and had no reason to primp.

The barking dog was showing no sign of letting up. The barking and howling was constant and it was absolutely and totally annoying.

She had been napping in her recliner, dressed in pajamas and a tattered red Terrycloth bathrobe. The muted tv was turned to MSNBC. Rachel Maddow was silently explaining another dubious political ruse the Republicans were pulling against the impoverished poor.

The barking dog seemed increasingly worrisome. It was such an unusual annoyance that it had startled her full awake from her nap. She looked at the clock. It was 10:23 pm.

Something must be awfully wrong., she thought aloud, as she decided to raid the fridge for a peace-token-treat for the poor, agitated, whining animal next door, Pooch doesn't normally carry-on like that. she whispered to herself. Maybe a few left-overs might shut him up.

Her yard was a mess of weeds and dead vines that hung from the rotting, nearly naked, November trees. The dead vines were every where, even along the rotting backyard fence. Dead vines also covered the eaves and outside walls of the old three story Victorian relic she still lovingly called home. It gave the old place the appearance of a classic Disney World, haunted house. If it was silhouetted by a sudden flash of lightening at midnight, you might expect to see Norman Bates standing in the doorway with a knife in his hand. It was a spooky looking place. But; at least it was paid for. That fact was the only thing that kept Granny Ann off of Welfare.

The old place was desperately needing paint and repairs, but, she simply could not afford those expenses considering the meager $600 social security checks she received every month. That $600 barely covered her lights, water/garbage, cable, food and necessities.

The Florida water bill was the worst. It was outrageously huge. She was being gouged by the city for tons of water she didn't need and never used. They charged her for it, going in, and again coming out. The inflated water bill included another exorbitant fee for garbage. An old person living alone does not need two 96 gallon pick-ups per week. One pick-up per month would suffice. She was being charged for two garbage pickups every week whether she pushed the 96 gallon rolling dumpster out front or not. Just to retaliate, she would push the rolling dumpster to the curb totally empty twice every week . . and drop one-tissue inside, just to make the point. It made her feel better but it would never change a thing. That bill was as certain as death and taxes.

Greed was rampant at city hall. Their generous incomes seemed to grow on trees. All they had to do was increase the rate again, every year and their lavish lifestyles would remain lavish. They were totally clueless as to the plight of the people! It was pure greed. The word from city hall was that they thought they were being totally fair and reasonable. Daytona Beach, just 25 miles away was even worse. That was their rebuttal. End of story!

She and her now deceased husband Harry had bought the old mansion in New Smyrna Beach Florida shortly after they married in 1960, during the good old days. Old Harry, whom she had loved dearly, was now dead over 10 years. He had died in 2004 at age 63 of a massive heart attack. Ann still missed and cried for him at times during the lonely nights . . . but there would never be another Harry.

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The back porch light went on as Granny Ann slowly made her way down the creaking steps to the unsightly yard. The yard was covered with fallen leaves that blew and shifted restlessly in the chill November wind. Ann walked towards the gray and rotted Stockade fence behind which the pitiful animal stood as a howling sentinel. Pooch was crying and howling his poor heart out.

Hush!, she whispered just loud enough to alert the heartbroken dog. Pooch went silent for a second, then resumed barking and howling with a vigor; knowing that he had finally aroused someone's attention.

Here boy, I've brought you a treat! It's leftovers anyway. I won't eat 'em. Had my fill of roast beef for a while. What's wrong with you tonight? You've never carried on like this before. She spoke softly and sweetly as she tried to soothe the sad, agitated animal.

The old dog jumped eagerly to retrieve the chunks of roast beef from her hand as she stood on a cinder-block and reached over the rickety wooden fence. The Stockade fence was old and rotted.

Though she was frail and weighed barely one-hundred pounds, she felt a surge of sudden panic as a rotted 4 X 4 creaked, groaned and cracked loudly, then snapped at the ground, causing the fence to sway perilously under her weight. Off balance now, it caused her to lean heavier on the now completely unstable fence, as she tried to readjust her stance. It was too little, too late. With another resounding creak and then a crash, the old fence gave way completely. She fell unexpectedly atop the fence into the neighbor's yard, with a thump and a squeal of shocked surprise.

Momentarily, the naturally aggressive Doberman, scattered away from the prized roast beef for a second with his tail between his legs; then he abruptly turned, pulled his ears back, bristled and snarled at the unexpected old trespasser.

She just looked at him and laughed.

Thank heaven, the mature animal possessed a shred of intellect. He then cocked his head quizzically as he realized her sad and silly predicament. He yipped one more time. The soft yip sounded almost