Mowin' the Lawn

"If its not fun, you're not doing it right."

Ugh. Mowing. Who invented it anyways? I was convinced that taking a safari trip through your front yard once every morning had to be easier than mowing it once every month!

Enough pollen to make you sneeze the nose off your face, bits of rocks and sticks flying up, down, and all around, the smell of gasoline that I was positive killed off a few brain cells at this rate, vibrations that didn't entirely leave your arms until the next morning, the sun literally beating down upon me...I don't know about you, but I  didn't see anything appealing about the whole thing.

If only I could be back in my nice air-condition living room playing my new videogame...wait...

"Racers, start your engines!"

I reved up my tripped-0ut Viper and eyed the racer next to me through my tinted helmet. He glared back at me and I saw my own reflection, competitive written all over his unseen face.

"Ding, Ding, Ding, DING!!" We were off. It was exhilerating, the roaring engine, the cheering crowds, the breath-taking speed, the gleam of the lights on my nice paint job, the rush of the wind--wait, the wind?

I shook my head from the stadium to see I was done. Heh, fancy that. Ha ha! Done! How I loved the word.

"Folks, we have ourselves a winner! His reward, a swig of water and a popsicle!!"

The End

5 comments about this exercise Feed