[Another abandoned concept dragged from the verge of complete annihilation! Will wonders never cease? I’m guessing they will. Cease, that is. Until then, enjoy Vol. 3 of Platitudes for a New Millenium, which coincidentally enough was proceeded by Vol. 1 and Vol. 2.]
“The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence.”
Now, why is that?
It’s not as if you don’t try. Up at 4 a.m. to water. Long discussions on lawn treatment options at your local nursery. Experimental products recommended to you by the groundskeeper at the country club.
Even the home owner’s association has noticed, sending you a threatening letter concerning your inability to meet “adjoining lawn color intensity,” thereby disrupting “cul-de-sac curb appeal in regards to resident eyeflow.” They take care to point out that this is “nothing personal” but that they have no interest in seeing their property values dip because of your inability to color match.
Then he comes out to condescendingly hand out some unsolicited advice, all handshakes and warm clichés, wearing that sickening Enzyte smile.
Now you’re on 24-hour lawn surveillance, looking for his secret. Is he watering illegally? Could be. But you can’t stay awake 24/7. You’re already catching a lot of flak at the office thanks to your spotty attendance. You’re faring no better at home, having become little else than a twitching mass of paranoia.
Is he burying corpses for superior fertilizer?
It’s a distinct possibility. After all, he does own a shovel and is incredibly unlikable. Who buys a t-shirt that says, “Ask me about my golf handicap”? Obviously it’s much lower than yours. No one brings down that kind of ultra-competitive heat without something to back it up.
So very tired.
Are you coming to bed? Not likely. That guy’s probably whipping up something containing depleted uranium and Miracle-Gro right now. No. He wants me to sleep. Just to gain another 2-3% in “lawn intensity.” That magnificent bastard!
What? Who am I talking to? I’m not… Fuck! He just went into the garage! Where’s my ski mask?
I have you now, my friend. Who goes into their garage at 2 a.m.? … I’m not talking to anybody! Just… weren’t you going to bed?
Shit. Where did he go?
Honey, grab me my night vision goggles. OK… thanks… Maybe next time you could bring them without the attitude?
Hey! These are 3-D glasses! My goggles! On the nightstand! Why… why do we have 3-D glasses readily available? Night vision goggles just make sense, but just to have these lying around… What is this, the seventies? I’m…
Oh… right… Avatar.
My goggles, honey. He’s making his move. Again, without the attitude would be great. You know, if I had a nickel for every time you’ve told me to go fuck myself over the last six weeks, we could have purchased that washer/dryer set you’ve been looking at.
No. The one with the stainless steel and LED screen.
The hell if I know. Sears?
You were looking at it while I was off at the Sharper Image pricing surveillance equipment… Let me worry about the legalities of those cameras. All I’m saying is that your negative attitude is swiftly nickel-and-diming us out of a new washer/dryer set.
We can discuss my “fundamental misunderstanding of how money works” later. The goggles, please. We’re burning moonlight.
What? Well, where the hell are they? … Your cousin? What the hell?
Without even bringing up the fact that they are not yours to lend, for someone so concerned with legality you sure seem to bypass that issue when it comes to your family members.
All I’m saying is that I’m pretty sure a restraining order is valid whether or not the other person can see you. You know, fuck it. I’m just going to get a dog and train it to pee in his yard.
Of course he’ll know whose it is. That’s kind of the point.
Well, I can always get more dogs. The pound is full of them.
Whatever. I’m out of here. Is my scuba gear still in the basement?
Never mind. I’ll get it. If you need me, I’ll be lurking in his koi pond. Don’t wait up.