Noodles: This land is your land, this land is my land...

This is a story about saving the environment.

Or is it?

I’ll let you decide.

A while back, I moved to a house with a sizeable yard. And since there were no parents in the vicinity, I had to mow the lawn myself. That’s what I like to call a “Real Problem” (for all you poverty-stricken, hovel-dwelling, lawn-less, unprivileged folks who don’t understand what trouble is.)

First of all, I knew I wanted to practice kindness to the planet and all the life contained therein by using an old-fashioned manual mower. “It’s so simple!” I exclaimed as I removed it from its heavy packaging and assembled it in my densely overgrown backyard. “Why burn holes in the ozone when there are manual machines like lawn mowers and bikes? I’ll never drive anywhere again and I will only eat three forms of grasses, most of which I can forage within three feet of my door!”

I was ready to do my part in saving the world.

Until I actually had to mow my lawn.

Even then, I tried to maintain a positive attitude.

For a few seconds, that is. Then I had a little change of heart.

And I got a gas mower.

I loved my mower. I tucked it in every night and kissed it good morning. It cut my mowing time in seventy-seventh. I would say it cut my mowing time in half, but that would be a lie. It now took only forty-five minutes to mow, versus 3,479. That’s 2.41597 days. (Please don’t check my math here.)

But something was still wrong. Mowing the lawn was still...hard. Too hard.

I traded in my gas mower.

AND I LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER! (AND I ACCIDENTLY BUMPED THE CAPS LOCK KEY! SO NOW I’M SHOUTING! KILL THE DOLPHINS!)

Comments

Welcome to Weirdness!

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Sauce: Peeved - A Ditty.

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The Password’s Lasagna.

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