Once in the house I donned my “weed whacking” outfit...a stylish ensemble of an old ripped up t shirt, shorts (in much the same condition), the longest socks I could find without looking like a total dork (trimmers are much better at throwing rocks than whacking weeds), and, of course my Italian sunglasses ($5 at an open air market in Florence) which means they’re really worth about 37 cents) to protect the one good eye I have. I gave my regards to Henri (my dog) and made my way to the garage.
Now I’ve had several of these weed trimmers. You know...the ones that have the plastic “fishing” line hanging out to clear out weeds or anything in it’s way. (I’ll give you $1000 is you catch a fish with this stuff) I’ve come to the conclusion that there’s not a good one on the entire market. No matter how much you pay for one...be it gas powered or electric...the majority of your time is spent cursing the thing while undoing the cap on the bottom so you can pull the line through again. Sometimes I have to do this 10, 11 times...and I won't even go into refilling it. I’ve had a love/hate relationship with every whacker I’ve owned. Mostly hate.
Sooo...I’m in the garage plugging together the 3 or 4 extension cords that it takes to get around the yard...although it also takes 3 or 4 “re-plugs” to get the job done...when I hear a car start revving up and speeding down Druid. We live on a corner and the side street (Druid) only goes for three blocks (thank God) so we don’t get much traffic. And I really notice when some one is driving fast...and I’m in the garage which faces Druid. As the car races by me I drop what I’m doing, walk out to the street and yell, “Slow down FOOL!” (I thought about calling him as asshole but that word is used so often these days I believe it’s lost its impact. Actually, now I rely on words and phrases that are much more subtle...but since they aren’t used so much guys don’t know how to react to words like “fool”. Ironically, it has more shock value...and Mr. T. made a movie career AND pro wrestling gig out of saying, “I PITY the fool!” Think about it. I don’t think people would have taken him seriously at all had he used, “I PITY the asshole!”) So the guy hears me call him a fool and slams on the brakes at the stop sign...which is about 30 feet from where I’m standing. And what does he do? You guessed it. He gave me the finger...THE finger.
This sort of cracks me up. Giving somebody the finger is such a cliché anymore. I mean...in this rude, crude, MTV society of bad manners it doesn’t mean...well...it doesn't mean ANYTHING anymore...at least not to me. I go to the CD shop and what do I see? A poster of Kid Rock giving me the finger next a poster of Eminem giving me the finger. Wow...how CREATIVE!! How REBELLIOUS!!! I bores me...really, really bores me. I mean...can’t these “I’m pissed off for no apparent reason” artist (and I use the word loosely) types come up with anything more original? Geez...how FIVE years ago! How Axl Rose-ish!! Giving me the finger...the cliché of the new millennium. Anyway...as he’s giving me the finger I yell, “You drive like a MORON!!!” (This is another great, great word that isn’t used much any more. Moron...I love it.) But I don’t think HE liked it because I saw his backup lights come on. OOOOH!! Now he’s gonna get rough with me!!
So. I sauntered back into the garage and picked up my trusty weed whacker. (This is the original commercial name for trimmers I think...kind of like Kleenex is for tissues...and I have a REAL, ACTUAL WHACKER!!!) I must have looked pretty menacing in my dirty old t shirt, long white athletic socks and cheap Italian sunglasses. Just about the time he reaches my driveway I come out of the garage...weed whacker in hand...finger on the trigger. I have this vein by my eye that sticks out when I’m “concerned” about something...you know...like Clint Eastwood...except his is on his forehead...and it’s bulging! “You WANT something?” I say as I pull on the trigger gingerly. VVVVRRRRRRRR, VVVVVRRRRRR, VVVVVVVVVRRRRRRR...I could see the “macho” just vanish from his face. VVVVVRRRRR, VVVVVVRRRR. I lifted the weed whacker up to car window level for effect, “Um...why did you yell at me?” HE asked sheepishly. “There are KIDS in this neighborhood you know.” I snarled at him. VVVVVVRRRRR, VVVVVRRRRRR, VVVVVVRRRR. “But...but...I wasn’t even driving that fast.” he says quietly. VVVVVRRRRRRR, VVVVVVVRRRRRR...”Well it was TOO fast for MY street!” I say. VVVVVVVRRRRRRRR, VVVVVVRRRRRR!!!!
Know what? He just drove away...ever so slowly. Just high tailed it outta der pardner. MAN...this was as much fun as I’ve EVER had weed whacking! And I realize if they ever make a movie out of this they’ll probably use a gas trimmer. It would provide more drama but the dialogue would certainly suffer...and of course the guy’s car would crash and burst into flames after he drove off. I’m thinkin’‚ Nicholas Cage as homeowner Brown...ciao baby.
“Walk softly and carry a big stick.” Teddy Roosevelt 20th Century President.
Epilogue...