Michael Malone - Weebly

as you is," snorted his driver.
"Damnation! Will you stop talking like a pickaninny
in a minstrel show? That Amos 'n' Andy act of yours
burns the fire out of me.
Why don't you just drive, if you can make out the
road, blind as a bat."
"Why doan you—"
The glass behind them slid open. "William! Bill!
Shut up, please." The glass slid shut. The Bredforets
and Bill Deeds, in their eighties, had returned to the
egalitarian effrontery of eight-year-olds.
They lived together in a huge house across the road
from the Prim Minster. Strangers often confused the
two buildings, and once Bredforet had left a party of six
waiting in his front hall for half an hour before he
returned to tell them the cook had murdered the
dishwasher and there would be no further service that
night. William's practical jokes were equally annoying to
his wife and his chauffeur, who had been in a
conspiracy together for years to keep him reasonably
decorous, reasonably faithful, and reasonably sober.
Deeds, whose son was a CPA and whose