March 14, 2009

It was the Scotsman, in the yard, with a spray gun.

That's the clue you'll need if I should mysteriously turn up missing sometime this weekend.

It went down like this, gumshoes. Earlier today Great Scot was trying to slip out the door to go buy his annual fix of pre-emergent supercarcinogenic death juice with which he likes to douse the dirt-with-grass-comb-overs outside that we call our lawn.

But then our cats started brawling and woke me up.

Hoping I was still too groggy and caffeine-deprived to commence auditory processing for the day, he muttered something or other about where he was headed. To me, mind you. The me who ever hales from crunchy organic crusaders who kept their Rodale encyclopedias next to their Bibles, but now also the me who's a cleaned-up, greened-up cancer survivor. Yeah, buddy. Look out.

Hence (from a dead sleep, mind you) I launched a minimally coherent campaign for him to repent from his death juice junkie ways! Head instead, I implored him, to the very green & groovy Redenta's Garden Center! Begin the redemptive process of learning how to manage our yard organically!

Great Scot is not happy with Queen Shenaynay.

Great Scot just wants to fetch his trusty, familiar carcinogen cocktail death juice and be done with it. Great Scot thinks Queen Shenaynay is a pain. But Great Scot knows that Her Royal Pain-ness now holds the cancer card, and she ain't afraid to use it.

Great Scot just left for Redenta's.

Or so he said. But he was shaking slightly from Roundup withdrawals and silently grumbling in his spirit about the more hateful aspects of marriage. So you never know. It may be that he is just pretending to go along and is actually on his way to the pawn shop.

So if I should turn up missing, please come look for a new hump in our yard that reeks of Roundup.



Kat said...

This reminds me of my own special spring conversation that I have annually with my man. :)

Androphenese said...

Her Royal Pain-ness. nice :-)

great scot said...

I feel it is incumbent upon me to respond to the implication that the Queen is in imminent danger of bodily peril. This is not the case, I am a noble, mild mannered person not desiring to give offense. It was not that I desired to soak our yard with carcinogenic weedkillers, but merely wished to take advantage of current scientific advances and use an effective means of control of undesired plant life within our sports abused lawn. It is true that I was fully prepared to utilize artificially created means of lawn maintenance (within the strict scope of the recommended directions, of course). Instead, at the urging of the Queen and not wanting to be the source of any strife within my household (Editor's note: music swells in the background), I proceeded to go to the hairy armpit (females), tree hugging (both males and females) organic nursery in our area for supplies. It appears that organic nurseries do not believe in weed control (this concept must be too exclusionary for their tastes), instead, they believe that the yard as a whole should be improved (preferably accompanied by sitting cross-legged in your yard and chanting undecipherable mutterings in the direction of the sun). As such, my only recourse was to buy the organic fertilizer which they offered. This fertilizer is chock full of natural nutrients, with the leading ingredient being what they delicately described as "dried poultry droppings". Following this purchase, I returned home and dutifully spread the fertilizer upon our lawn which has resulted in our home in our urban, middle class neighborhood, being the only property which smells like a chicken coop! At least, we have not discriminated against the poor weeds, and they may well feel better about themselves. If you are in the area anytime soon, please feel free to stop by, but only if you hum the theme song to "Green Acres" as you drive up.

Androphenese said...

it is a relief that someone recognizes that WEEDS HAVE RIGHTS TOO!

Beck's Bounty said...

You never know ... he could be meeting up with my husband, equally blinded by carcinogen-ambitions and sheer determination ... and they might conspire to get both of us ... two birds with one sprayer, so to speak.

Watch your bill statements for Backhoe Rental fees ... to dig the hole, of course.

Thanks for the major giggles !! Just this morning hubby and I had this same, errrr, discussion ... and I had already had coffee ... trust me, it didn't help.

Grace & Peace,