MEN AND GRASS: The Final Frontier - more humour from BAD GIRL

(Reprinted with Permission)

By Melodie Campbell

What is it, about men and their grass?  And I’m not talking about funny weed here.  I’m talking about the green stuff that becomes the object of mower wars every year once Jack Frost leaves for Florida.

Take one A-type guy.  Present him with a front lawn, much like the other front lawns owned by guys all down the street.  And watch him turn into a teeth-gritting supercharged competitive mess.

“Dear,” I say.  “Mable and I don’t lie in wait with the express purpose of determining whose house is cleaner at this very moment.  Neither do we examine bed sheets to see whose laundry is whitest.”

“Your point?” says the weed demon, currently glowering at a patch of clover-like substance.

“Why waste time doing the one-upmanship thing when we could be shopping?” I reply.

He grunts.

But I’m not finished.  “Why do guys care so much about whose lawn is the greenest?  It’s grass.  It grows.”

“Len was using Roundup last Friday,” he muttered.  “I know it.  And Charlie is using his sprinkler system at night on red days.”

“Red days?”  I question.

“When there’s a ban on watering!  I know he’s doing it.  I’m going to catch him in the act.”  He grins like a maniac and prepares to spend all night sleeping on the front porch.

And so I propose it. 

Admit it.  You knew it was coming.

The newest reality TV show – LAWN WARS!

8 am. Saturday.  A street in a town/city/burg somewhere in the northern hemisphere.  Joe creeps out of his house with coffee.  Surreptitiously wanders over to his neighbour’s yard.  Looks suspiciously down at the ground to see if Ralph’s grass is greener than his.  Meanwhile, Ed, two doors down, is doing the same reconnaissance work as Joe, but this time on Joe’s lot. 

War is declared.

Five minutes later, the lawn mowers come out on all adjacent properties.  Blades are set to golf course smooth.  Micrometers are used to measure each grass length. Weed and feed is executed with diabolical fanaticism. 

It’s Whippersnippers at thirty paces.

Meanwhile Mable and I are discussing laundry.

“Laundry sucks,” says Mable.  “All Len’s clothes are dirty. I think I’ll just throw them out.”

“Go for it.”  I say.  And then we go shopping.

Melodie Campbell writes funny books, like The Goddaughter’s Revenge, winner of the 2014 Derringer and Arthur Ellis Awards.  You can buy them at Chapters and at online retailers everywhere.