“Christ, Jack, I can’t believe how gross this is!” grumbled Dylan, tossing another shovel full of crap into the can. “Isn’t there some sort of rule about the punishment fitting the crime?”

“I guess trespassing in one abandoned building equals cleaning out another in New Jersey,” I muttered.

“Ugh, what in the hell is that?”

I peered down into his latest scoop. “Rat. That’s rat.”

“No way! It just looks like…”

“Old rat; well aged for that scrap of old shag rug look.”

Dylan crinkled his nose and gave the shovel a swing. Its contents, mostly crumbled plaster, scraps of wallpaper, and ex-rat, went sailing through the air to land next to the dented trash barrel.

“Close, but no stuffed bear,” I said.

Dylan grunted and leaned on his shovel, wiping the perspiration from his brow. “How much more time do we have down here?”

BTW, Teddy, I don't have your email, so if you would still like to take a look, please click on mine and let me know what it is. Thanks!