Help! I've created a monster! My husband has been terrorizing every
inch of greenery on our property…and it's all my fault. I got this
bright idea to pique Dave's interest in the wonderful world of gardening
(he does not have a green thumb). Well, everyone knows there's nothing
like a new power tool to really get a guy into a hobby. So I talked it
over with the girls and we bought him a gas-powered weed trimmer. Oh,
you should've seen his eyes light up when they gave it to him for
Father's Day. Dave was delighted beyond words. Internal combustion
engines always do that to my man.
He immediately fired it up and trimmed the lawn around our fence. Next
he did some beautiful edging along the sidewalk. After that, he decided
to clip along my herbaceous border. That's when something snapped in
him. Dave got this fiendish look on his face and snarled, "Here's
Johnny!" Before I knew it, my Johnny Jump-ups were history. This
devastating power over nature brought out the dark side of my spouse. He
ran from my perennials to the Scotch pine, shouting, "Look, Honey! I'm
trimming the Christmas tree!" The new growth from our evergreen flew all
over the yard as he laughed hysterically. I desperately prayed the
engine would stall as he held it in a horizontal position to get those
top branches. No such luck.
Hurricane Dave's destruction continued. The herbicidal maniac took his
trimmer and danced over to my vegetable garden. "I'll just trim off a
little lettuce for a salad tonight." The weed trimmer touched down and
within seconds my patch of mixed greens was pesto.
That's when I grabbed the crazy man's ankles. It was the only way to
stop the madness. He came down with a thud in the zucchinis. I took the
trimmer and ran. My neighbor Phil came to my aid, and together we yanked
Dave's sparkplug. Next year my husband is getting a tie for Father's
Reprinted from the June, 1999 issue of THE PHOENIX, |
the monthly newsletter of Western Pennsylvania Mensa,
Tamara Wardell, editor. Reprinted with permission.