2631. Garden tools

(This will be the last story – at least for a while – involving anthropomorphised inanimate objects).

“I’ve a good mind to rake up some muck on our previous owner,” declared the Rake. The garden tools had been taken from their tool shed home and dropped off at a second-hand shop. There they lay gathering dust on an obscure shelf.

“You’d think after more than twenty years of faithful service in the garden we’d be treated with a little more respect,” said the Hedge Clippers. “For example, the Rake and the Hoe have had a thing going for almost nineteen years. This second-hand caper will mean almost certain separation.”

”I dig what you’re saying,” said the Spade. “The Fork and I have been working as a close-knit team.”

“That’s true,” said the Fork. “Over the years I’ve forked everywhere in the garden thoroughly.”

 “I just want to throw in the towel,” said the Trowel. “”I must have helped plant thousands of plants and look at me now.”

But what is this? It is a bespectacled gentleman second-hand store customer. “He looks like an enthusiastic gardener,” said the Sickle.

“I’ll take the lot,” said the bespectacled gentleman.

Oh the rejoicing amongst the tools! “We’re staying together! We’re staying together!” they shouted in unison.

“There’s a war on,” said the bespectacled gentleman. “I’m doing the rounds on behalf of the Government. All this junk can be melted down for bullets.”

819. Emile’s pansies

Emile Etienne Metard won second prize for his pansies in the annual Palmerston North Horticultural Society’s Flower Show. He won a garden hoe.

This was in 1881. In all likelihood, Emile loved his pansies. Getting second place for his pansies in the annual Palmerston North Horticultural Society’s show of 1881 was a moment of glory. He thought of the occasion with pleasure throughout his life, especially when he used the garden hoe he had been awarded.

It is fast heading towards two centuries since Emile won second prize for his pansies in the annual Palmerston North Horticultural Society’s flower show. The hoe has done its dash. The pansies are dead. Sorry Emile Etienne Metard, but no one gives a damn.

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