Got me a ride-on lawn mower. Red one. Came from United States in a shipping container marked “Lawnmowers For Freedom” and in smaller print “Eat Pepsi”. I’m sure it’s good and everything, but I got that one because it was the very least expensive one they had that still looked cool. Has lights. Red. Also they deliver and even fuel it up for you.
Man from the tractor place came to drop it off just as I pulled in from work. Man was afraid of the dogs. Happy jumping, sneezing, wheezing, snarling, coughing, licking dogs. I thought the man was silly, churlish, hollow of spirit, doleful, baleful, a little sad. I said they won’t bite, what’s your problem. The what’s your problem part I just thought.
Then he showed me his scar from three weeks ago when he got bit delivering a tractor. Took a good chunk out of his knee. I began to see his point of view. Then he showed me the other one way up on the side of his chest. I had been going to tell him about when I was 11 and had a paper route and almost got bitten but I’m getting better at not saying stupid things so I just said “wow” which, although vapid, is intellectually ambiguous. Then Jessie barked at him.
This made him turn quickly which made Jack bark at him. Jessie spun around once and barked again. Jack sneezed and howled a little. Jessie spins, Jack sneezes, which is their way of saying “Hot Damn! Somebody new’s here and he smells funny and look at his hat and he has a truck I wonder if we’re going in the truck it smells like tires and he’ll have to help you up Jack ‘cause you’re fat. Hot Damn!”
The tractor man didn’t see this though and went on to say how you never can tell and you never can know what a dog’s gonna do. I agreed with him as it seemed the response least likely to propagate further conversation. He gave me the low down on the mower, Mrs Joe gave him a cheque and he hurried off, trailing one tie-down strap from his little transport trailer. Jack and Jessie loped half-heartedly after him, hopes of a ride fading fast. Jack, the pragmatist, stopped first and waddled back to the house. Jessie, the optimist, stood half way up the drive until she could no longer hear the tractor man’s engine then she too came back.
The fuck do I care? I got a new ride-on mower and it’s got lights and I mowed my lawn in 17 minutes and it’s a red one, made in America but available locally.
Man from the tractor place came to drop it off just as I pulled in from work. Man was afraid of the dogs. Happy jumping, sneezing, wheezing, snarling, coughing, licking dogs. I thought the man was silly, churlish, hollow of spirit, doleful, baleful, a little sad. I said they won’t bite, what’s your problem. The what’s your problem part I just thought.
Then he showed me his scar from three weeks ago when he got bit delivering a tractor. Took a good chunk out of his knee. I began to see his point of view. Then he showed me the other one way up on the side of his chest. I had been going to tell him about when I was 11 and had a paper route and almost got bitten but I’m getting better at not saying stupid things so I just said “wow” which, although vapid, is intellectually ambiguous. Then Jessie barked at him.
This made him turn quickly which made Jack bark at him. Jessie spun around once and barked again. Jack sneezed and howled a little. Jessie spins, Jack sneezes, which is their way of saying “Hot Damn! Somebody new’s here and he smells funny and look at his hat and he has a truck I wonder if we’re going in the truck it smells like tires and he’ll have to help you up Jack ‘cause you’re fat. Hot Damn!”
The tractor man didn’t see this though and went on to say how you never can tell and you never can know what a dog’s gonna do. I agreed with him as it seemed the response least likely to propagate further conversation. He gave me the low down on the mower, Mrs Joe gave him a cheque and he hurried off, trailing one tie-down strap from his little transport trailer. Jack and Jessie loped half-heartedly after him, hopes of a ride fading fast. Jack, the pragmatist, stopped first and waddled back to the house. Jessie, the optimist, stood half way up the drive until she could no longer hear the tractor man’s engine then she too came back.
The fuck do I care? I got a new ride-on mower and it’s got lights and I mowed my lawn in 17 minutes and it’s a red one, made in America but available locally.
3 comments:
You're a true patriot. America salutes you.
yeah, well tell them to send me a bagger attachment.
i want a red mower too
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