The mower we get
โ Scribed by Karp, Laurence E.
- Publisher
- John Wiley and Sons
- Year
- 1984
- Tongue
- English
- Weight
- 243 KB
- Volume
- 18
- Category
- Article
- ISSN
- 0148-7299
No coin nor oath required. For personal study only.
โฆ Synopsis
Here in Seattle we have to mow our lawns throughout the year. Admittedly, the necessity arises less often in the winter than during the rest of the year, but still, November through February, there you'll see us, once a month or so, sullenly pushing our mowers through the mist and the drizzle.
A few weeks ago we had one of those hard freezes that hit Seattle every second or third year: the temperature went all the way down to 9 degrees one night, and it was reported that the ground had frozen to a depth of 12 inches. As I walked across the grass, it actually crackled, and I chortled to my wife, "That ought to finish it off till spring." But a week later, temperatures were running in the mid-50s and the grass on the front lawn was suddenly ankle-high. Muttering all the way, I put on my jacket and old shoes, and went out to the shed for the lawn mower. The effect of the freeze, however, had been greater on the mower than on the grass. The damned machine wouldn't start.
After close to 20 minutes of yanking, knocking, jiggling, and threatening, I managed to start a perfect rhythmic pounding behind my left eyeball, but the lawn mower was still stone cold dead in the market. As I stood up to try to decide what to do next, I heard a familiar voice behind me say, "Passive resistance-ah, it's wonderful. What fun to see how effectively an intelligent machine can deal with a dopey Luddite. " I turned around. There was Kenny, the cytogenetics lab tech, squinting through his thick, rimless glasses and grinning at me with undisguised malicious pleasure. "How long have you been here?" I said.
"About 10 minutes," said Kenny. He gestured with his head toward the street, where his ancient, battered, blue VW was parked by the picket fence. "I don't like to disturb a man at work," he said.
My antennae began to quiver. "Kenny, you're not going to bug me with more of that stuff about betting on amnio results, are you?" I said. "Because I just don't have the --" "Nah, nah, nah; forget that." He waved his hand back and forth. "I decided that wasn't such a hot idea after all -I mean, how long would it be before we'd have the mob in our office, wanting a piece of the action? Guys with guns and car bombs scare me. I got a better idea; that's why I came overto tell you about it."
I glanced back at the lawn mower and decided to go with Kenny for the moment. "All right," I said. "What is it this time?"
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