Desperate to reach her limousine parked in the driveway, Beatrice made a frantic, rushing sprint through the grand foyer of the Hart mansion.
Standing near the front entrance was the senior estate groundskeeper, holding a giant three-gallon metal bucket filled with thick, sticky, bright-yellow organic fish fertilizer and wet topsoil slurry that he had just prepared for the indoor conservatory plants.
Seeing Beatrice charging toward the exit while screaming hysterically, the groundskeeper stepped back in surprise.
Beatrice’s six-inch designer stiletto heels caught the edge of the polished marble runner rug.
With a dramatic, arms-flailing screech, Beatrice lost her balance entirely.
She pitched forward like a falling tree, crashing headfirst straight into the middle of the heavy bucket of organic fish fertilizer.
A loud, wet, glorious SPLAT! echoed across the high-ceilinged foyer.
Three gallons of thick, cold, rancid yellow fish fertilizer and muddy soil erupted over Beatrice’s head like a tidal wave.
