Pitch that Fork

I’ve had a bit of writers block over the last few days, perhaps it was the mega long weekend, perhaps Greece winning the European cup combined with too much alcohol, perhaps my laziness is creeping into even this aspect of my life.

I finally tackled the grass tonight, I just knew I had to, it was a sort of eighth sense. I’ve not discussed this here before but my continuing problem is that all my neighbours are retired, spend far too much time and money on their lawns and Superpiggy in the middle here spends most of his life with a sword hanging over his head, nicknamed yardwork, playing catch up.

They probably use Scotts golfgreen, weed and feed, conditioner, teezing combs and Pledge furniture polish on their bloody grass, whatever I do, mine will not look like theirs, I can’t compete. I bet that within 24 hours my neighbour to the left will have trimmed his grass 50% lower than what I’ve just done, making mine look like it hasn’t been cut for a week. Bastard.

And they have their nice little single pull start, thousand dollar, self propelled polished lawnmowers while I’m wanking the cord out of my rusting Crappy Tire special twenty times to get the thing farting away, add to that the shaft oscillation I have after bending my blade last year and the fear, yes I said fear, of having a leg cut off following crack initiation and rapid stress reversal fatigue fracture of said mild steel shaft (It’s an Aerospace type of fear).

So, the grass is cut for another few days, I still have both my legs and I can hide in the house while they all get busy again. I’ll know exactly when the neighbourhood needs my help once more, that’s what we super heroes are here for you know.

Zorgon.