Pea Stew for the Cynic's Eye

Peas. If you ever want to convince yourself, there's a higher power, grow a garden. Because last night when I went to bed, there were no peas in mine.   

This morning, there are.  Where there were only flowers, there are fullgrown, KAPOW!, pods of peas.   Something exists now that did not, the last time I checked, nine hours ago.  There was only air. 

Makes me blink, look twice and shake my head.  I swear, one night, I'm going to stay up all night, with a flashlight and watch.  I know, for one, that I have absolutely no garden gnomes, that my cats would never make an effort even close to such an endeavour and that my neighbours, although they're good people, grow peas of their own but wouldn't come over in the middle of the night with peas and superglue. Something appeared out of thin air. 

Overnight.  Go figure. This has something to do with Oprah.  I'm sure of it. 

The End

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