945. Hedge cutter


Look at the state of our hedge. All up the driveway. It’s never been cut properly.

Mrs Iris Witten was talking to her husband, Rodney.

You work as a professional hedge cutter, and look at the state of the hedge on our driveway. Everyone else has beautiful manicured hedges and ours is a mess. It’s typical. You never lift a finger to tidy the hedge on our drive.

Rodney had a big tractor with one of those extendable arms with gigantic whirling blades. It could cut through hedge branches like they weren’t there. With his wife nagging all the time he might as well trim the hedge, even though it didn’t really need doing. His wife came to watch.

You’ve missed a bit there, Rodney. It’ll be an eyesore. You haven’t missed bits when you did the neighbour’s. And is that bit there quite straight? The neighbour’s hedge is perfect, so why are you doing a sloppy job with ours?

Rodney moved the arm of the cutter back.

Over here! Over here! instructed Mrs Iris Witten, pointing to a bit of hedge near her that she thought looked crooked. Over here! Over here!

WHOOSH went the huge cutter blades!

OOPS! What a terrible accident!

39 thoughts on “945. Hedge cutter

    1. Bruce Goodman Post author

      You possibly have come simply to the conclusion that fiction is fiction… ! This story was rather inevitable; which is a characteristic I rather like!

  1. Yvonne

    I’m watching an interview with YOUR Sam Neill, about the movie set in NZ: Hunt for the Wilderpeople. It looks like fun, and I love that accent.

  2. arlingwoman

    Sam Neill is ugly?? Anyhow, I had a good laugh. I too, expected this one. Yes, Richard Bucket was a mystery to me. Hyacinth was such a horror (my father refused to watch the show) and somehow she continued to get away with it, except with certain parts of her family that were immune…

    1. Bruce Goodman Post author

      I kind of like inevitable… sometimes. One public speaking trick I learnt years ago, was to let the audience think they’d worked it out before you said it!

  3. umashankar

    I have a feeling I smelt it in the title. The point here then is whether it was done on the spur of the moment or as an act of premeditation. Perhaps it was more a result of subliminal neural chemistry rather than subcutaneous itching of the frontal lobes. Either way, the author has a bewildering telepathic prowess over his fictional characters.


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