Curly's 18th

Curly was 18. Voting and drafting. The two perks for a male turning the big one, eight. And Pocahontas was 20, finishing up her studies in Malibu for the year after having returned from the British Isles, Rome, Greece, Turkey, etc.
It was finally feeling like spring again. Green leaves were slowly budding.
Carrie was cleaning out the entire garage from top to bottom.
“I want my gold shoes,” she said.
Dad had decided that he would begin to dock payments due to him from school and travel expenses if she would cook and clean for the family. The family had already benefited from excellent chicken Parmesan, raspberry vinaigrette salad, and the best garlic toast Collette ever had.
“The meals are going to get progressively healthier and healthier,” said Carrie. “Dad just doesn’t know it yet.”
All that to say that she had additionally agreed to fix the disaster of the garage in exchange for the pair of shiny gold shoes.
Earlier, before Puck’s walk, he had been pinching dead lady bugs in the windowsill. Fortunately he was caught before any of them made their way into his mouth. It had been too late earlier that morning, however, to rescue him from gnawing on OLeif’s shoes.