Dumbo Doo Doo: Magic Marijuana Secret

By Jim Miotke

Riley quit his boring accountant job for a showbiz job for a traveling circus. He was a dung picker-upper.

He convinced two marijuana-growing crash dummies that the dung would make a faster, sweeter plant. To his amazement, it worked, and they followed the circus around to buy more dung. Rileys life became complex when he seduced Veronica, the bearded lady. Even more complicated when he falls in love with Maria, the shotgun-toting circus owners daughter.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 26, 2015
• ISBN: 9781514410592

Jim Miotke

Fictional books are our escape from daily duties, airport delays, and can’t-sleep nights. This story should be the way to handle those tasks. I only hope that you enjoy the reading as much as I did the writing. Lucky me. I’ve always been a lucky guy. My twenty-one-year career in the U.S. Coast Guard took me from Istanbul to Hong Kong and from the North Pole to the Panama Canal. I’ve sailed through the worst of North Atlantic winter weather and through a hurricane in the Gulf of Mexico. (The gulf was better.) My luckiest break was when I met Sophia, a Greek maiden, while sailing from Rhodes, Greece, on the CGC Courier. It took about ten seconds to fall in love, and three months later, I proposed. She couldn’t say yes until her father approved of me. This meant I had to learn to speak Greek. I memorized ten new words a day for six weeks. I would’ve learned Chinese Algebra to win her hand. We’ve been blessed with two children, a son and a daughter, who helped me survive the no-fun years of an elderly widower. God needed Sophia as an angel after we’d only had fifty-one years, five months, ten days, and eight hours of our marriage before she died. I see her in my dreams and still love her with every molecule of my being.

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Copyright © 2015 by Jim Miotke.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 09/24/2015

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Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty-Two

DEDICATION

Done with the eternal inspiration of my lovely wife, SOPHIA, Who shared our love for 52 years before she became an angel.

CHAPTER ONE

If there are typing errors, blame Carol, my stenographer.

Here’s my story.

I’d been with the travelling circus for almost a year. I always craved a show business job and the only one I could get from the circus owner, Sam, was cleaning up after the elephants.

I jumped at the chance. It was okay until we came to Peoria, Illinois.

There the water was bad and the elephants came down with diarrhea. I went to my boss. It was the closest I ever got to quitting. It went like this.

Boss, I need help. I can’t keep up with the elephants.

Sorry, son. I don’t have the funds to spare.

Well, can I at least have a bigger shovel?

Sorry, no, for the same reason.

Well, what am I going to do?

Sam looked me over with those business eyes, and said.

Well, you could always quit!

I drew myself up to my full five feet 11 inches height, and replied, What, quit show business? I’ll just have to shovel harder. And I left just to do that.

But my life was about to change.

One balmy summer night, we were on the outskirts of Pensacola when I smelled a familiar odor coming through the tent flap. It was clearly weed, or Mary Jane, or pot, or simply burning Marijuana.

I stepped outside and found two young punks sucking away on their joints.

A sudden inspiration hit me. I gave them a slow once over and said. My name is Riley. I’m the supervisor of livestock for this operation. What are you two losers doing? Smoking that cheap crap.

Jeb, the bigger and dumber of the pair, said, What do you mean by ‘cheap crap’? I paid top dollar for this grass.

I said, I’m thinking Acapulco Gold. I saw Jeb look down at his partner, who nodded.

I’m Joe, you got something better?

Joe, you ever heard of Dumbo Doo-Doo?

No!

Well, it’s what’s missing from your cheap smokes.

What do you mean?

By now, I was thinking fast, speaking as fast as I could come up on another idea. These two were stupid, but that stupid?

"It’s a special fertilizer that my Daddy taught me. It grows carrots, potatoes, radishes and spinach quicker,