Tony Deyal
The grass might be greener on the other side of the fence but it is certainly longer on mine. While around me the Christmas is unfolding into the New Year, and the Feliz Navidad is giving way to Nuevo Ano Felicidad, all I get is muchas gracias.
Gracias 'like bush' as we say in Trinidad. You would think all I need is 'buenos dias' and life would be easy, but neither he nor any other animal is jackass enough to take on the burden. There is a small herd of cows that passes by our house every morning and evening, cropping the fence bush as they go by. I have given serious thought to kidnapping them and holding them for ransom. I will then send a note to the owner demanding a lawn mower for the safe return of his animals.
I am not good at mechanical objects like mowers and such, and detest any form of manual labour that literally cuts into my leisure. I have always been a great believer in the organic nature of society. I constantly encouraged the specialisation of functions that characterises modern life by hiring the appropriate functionary instead of undermining social progress by trying to do it all myself.
Anarchy
Instead of indulging in anarchy, I immersed myself in Walt Whitman's Leaves Of Grass. While others managed the removal of the objects that prompted his poetry, I sharpened my wits with important matters like why he used 'leaves' and not 'blades', and does he mean 'for-lawn' and not 'forlorn'.
That euphoric state lasted only until I came to Antigua. In the three months I have been here, the cost of cutting the grass has amounted to US$140 and I am staring at another US$60 even as I speak. It is less a sight for sore eyes than a scythe for sore hands. Not being one to let the grass grow under my feet, I have to come up with a plan which does not involve my participation in the act of weedicide or administering any 'coup de grass'.
If I were a lawyer, my conscience might allow me a level of flexibility that I do not now possess, like the wealthy lawyer who was riding in the back of his limousine when he saw two pathetic-looking men by the side of the road, eating grass.
Investigate
He ordered his driver to stop and got out to investigate. He asked the men, "Why are you eating grass?" The first man replied, "We don't have any money for food." The lawyer smiled genially and held out his hand insisting, "Then you must come with me to my house." The man then responded, "But, sir, I have a wife and three kids." The lawyer said adamantly, "Bring them along!" The second man exclaimed, "I have a wife and six kids!"
The lawyer smiled his big smile and patting the second man on the back said, "Bring them as well!" They all climbed into a big limo and then one of the wives, hugging her children tightly to her, said gratefully, "Sir, you are too kind. Thank you for taking all of us with you." "No problem. I'm extremely happy to do it," the lawyer answered. "You'll love my place. The grass is almost a foot tall." In which case they would adore mine. But I am not a lawyer and enough of the wishful thinking already.
The fact is that I am not a gardening person. When asked to labour in that particular vineyard the first thing I dig up is an excuse or two. Instead of a green thumb, all I have is a rule of thumb which states that if you water it and it dies, it's a plant. If you pull it out and it grows back bigger and stronger than before, it's a weed.
In my present predicament, it is not as if I can go down to Charlotte Street or one of the thoroughfares in the red-light district of St. Johns and find a few willing hoes. A man once met a woman there who said she would do anything he wanted for one hundred dollars. Sensing a bargain he said, 'Cut my lawn'.
SIGN
In the small town of Blackey in Kentucky, Mike Dixon, the mayor, refuses to cut his grass. He hasn't cut his lawn in over a year and has put up a sign on his fence that says, "There are more important things in life than tall grass." A fellow member of the city council and its improvement committee says of the mayor, "He's just that type that likes to be his own person. He's always been like that. If he likes it like that, it's fine ... I kind of feel like maybe he is right. Maybe there are more important things than mowing grass." The mayor's response is simply, "I don't want to fight nature anymore."
I bet the mayor is single. If he had a wife he would have been out there cutting the lawn with his Toro instead of talking to it. My wife and I are now looking at grass-cutting machines; in fact, the mower the merrier. There are some that are electric, but in Antigua electricity costs more than gas. I have an aversion to selling the house to be able to afford a lawn mower. Maybe there is a sheep sale somewhere, but my best option, if I want to stop catching my grass, is to adjust my dietary habits and incorporate grass into my daily diet.
I must try 'pate de foie grass' and even grass sandwiches like the American university student who asked a female visiting student from Sweden to dance. While they were dancing, he gave her a little squeeze, and said, "In America, we call this a hug." She replied, "In Sveden, we call it a hug too." A little later, he gave her a peck on the cheek, and said, "In America, we call this a kiss." She replied, "Yaah, in Sveden, we call it a kiss too." Towards the end of the night, and a lot of drinks later, he took her out on the campus lawn, and proceeded to make love to her. He then explained, "In America, we call this a grass sandwich." She responded, "Yaaah in Sveden, we call it a grass sandwich too, but we usually put more meat in it."
Tony Deyal was last seen saying that if he wasn't bald he would change his religion and become a Grass-tafarian. Unfortunately, instead of 'I-tal' he would have to admit 'I-shart'.
