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It was an overcast night, slightly humid, and the widow's garden patch gave off smells that made Chuck's stomach turn. He figured it would be best to start around back, and stepped carefully up the rickety wooden stairs to the rear porch. Setting his pack down, he brought out the plastic bags of doggy doo and started squeezing them over the threshold of the back door.
The motor oil made a heavy base on the bottoms of the window frames, and he started laying out the firecrackers. The smell from the back door was hanging close because of the humid air, and the motor oil didn't help matters any.

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