A Poet Receives a Bad Review

The printer stopped chattering, and the Shed grew uncustomarily quiet.

Uncle Mac glanced up from the sports section of the "North Jersey Liberal Bias" news and fish wrap. He had been reading the Green Bay Packers injury list. He had been at it for half an hour and was not in the sunniest of moods.

"What the hell is that?" he inquired, indicating the heap of paper in the printer catch tray with the stem of his pipe. 

"Ah", said Farm Girl, "Well may you ask!"

"I just did ask", Uncle Mac pointed out. "I was hoping for an answer."

"Well all right, Captain Surly", replied FG. "It's the collected poetic output of one Mac Pike, a poet who hails from North Jersey, just like we do!"

"A modern day Shakespeare, is he?"

"Umm no, not precisely", said Farm Girl, "More of a modern day Milo Fishbinder, or Emily C. Thwackwhistle."

"Who might they be?" inquired Delacroix from the corner, where she had been meticulously cleaning her latest acquisition, a Metaba-Unica .44 magnum autorevolver,* after an hour or so at the range.** "Never heard of either of them."

METABA UNICA SELF COCKING REVOLVER IN .44 MAG.

"My point exactly.", Farm Girl said, "Here, let me treat you to something:"

"A long, long time ago
I can still remember how a big old pickerel made me grin
Then I went off to college jist, to be an ichthyologist

(At this, Uncle Mac flinched)

 Thought I’d be happy working for a fin.

(Delacroix rolled her eyes)

 But Name That Fishy made me quiver
What’s on my line? Caused me to shiver.
Bad news ‘bout the oarfish,
I just can’t take no more fish!"

"Gawd", said Unc, "He rhymes 'jist' with 'Ichthyologist'? That's unconscionable. "

"And that 'fin' pun!" said an obviously affronted Delacroix. "What's the rest of it?"

"That's all there is, there ain't no more. But what there is could be sung to 'Bye Bye Miss American Pie', if you had the hankerin' to do so."

"I do not hanker thus, why that is an atrocious bit of work! And the damned thing leads nowhere, there is no concluding statement! Do you have anything better in that heap?"

"Nope. In fact that may be the pick of the litter."

"You said he's local, can you narrow that down a bit?" said Lacey.

"I think so", said FG.

There was much clattery of keys.

"That can't be right", she muttered, and the clattering resumed.

She stared at the screen. "He's a neighbor! We could walk to his house!"

Lacey commenced reloading the Metaba.

"Maybe I should." mused Delacroix

"Normally I don't hold with killing off the neighbors", said Uncle M, "but in this case..."

"It would be a mercy." Delacroix concluded for him. "What's that address, Stephanie?"

Farm girl read it out.

"Woof!" said Lacey, "Definitely too close for comfort. I'll be back in a half hour give or take."

She departed through the Orchard-side door.

The door reopened and leaning in, Delacroix said, using her best Arnold Schwarzenegger voice:***

"I'll be beck." 


*https://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=Mateba+44+Magnum&&view=detail&mid=7F9EAD03994CB244A91A7F9EAD03994CB244A91A&FORM=VRDGAR

**The valley just over the back ridge

*** Which is frankly awful. It sounds like Werner Von Braun with a lung full of helium gas

Agnes passes a test, of sorts

It was a slow day at the shed, the first frost had happened overnight and no one really wanted to be outdoors in the cold. The cast iron combination cooking and heating stove was throwing off a pleasant warmth and the folks who were present tended to stay close by.

Farm Girl leaned back in Uncle Mac's disreputable ancient easy chair. She had her feet up on the table and was reading a magazine as she waited for her toenail polish to dry.

"Kids really have it easy today", she observed, "probably too easy. I'm looking at a test for third graders from around 1888 and they wanted them to write a sentence using the word, 'Ergo', demonstrating comprehension of it's meaning. What third grader could do that today?"



YOU WERE HOPING FOR A PEEK AT
FARM GIRL DRYING HER TOENAIL POLISH,
WEREN'T YOU, YOU LECHER. BUT INSTEAD
YOU GET AUNT AGNES, TREATING HER
DRY THROAT.



"Hell that's easy," said Agnes, "Any damned fool can do that' un."

Farm Girl peered at her over the magazine.

"Ok, Aggie. What have you got?"

"Well", said Agnes, stopping to take a pull on her longneck, "How about: 'Right about now I don't know if I should stay er go?' "

"Sound about right?"

"Oh, about." said Farm Girl and wiggled her toes.
  

An Unnecessary Interruption

A quiet afternoon around the shed. Uncle Mac was trying to find the Packers' game on TV; Farm Girl was filing her nails.

"I haven't seen Leatherface around lately." she said.

"You know," said Uncle M, "you're right. He's hard to miss and usually underfoot. He went after Victor I think. Maybe..."

The garden side door burst open at that point and the irrepressible Vida G burst in wearing full gardening attire and carrying a basket filled with what could only be the last of the Swiss chard.

"Hey!" she said, "What delicious and healthful green vegetable is always overcooked?" 

Farm Girl and Mac gaped at her.

"Chard!" she said, and exited through the orchard door, evidently en route to the now Leatherfaceless kitchen in the main house.

Farm Girl and Uncle M exchanged glances.

The orchard door opened again. Vida reappeared.

"That's my veggie joke. I'm making up a whole bunch of 'em."

The door swung nearly shut, then popped back open.

"I might try stand up!"

Uncle Mac nodded. Farm Girl finger-wiggled a good bye.

The door closed.

"I blame myself." said Mac.

"So do I." said Farm Girl.

Sproiiing!

"Farm Girl", said Uncle Mac, "This has been a terrible gardening year. What did we actually wind up with? Kale? Chard? When is the last time collards failed? 1650?"

"I wasn't around in 1650." Farm Girl reminded him. "You might ask Millie. But cheer up! The garlic looks good; the cloves we put in a week or so ago popped up unexpectedly."

"In a few weeks we can dry Agnes out for a day and let her cover the new shoots with straw for extra protection."

Uncle regarded Farm Girl speculatively.

"You know, speaking of unexpected pop-ups..."

Farm Girl tried to look indignant but failed miserably.

"Hay loft, you Old Goat?" she queried.

"Hay loft would be fine." replied the Old Goat.

Farm Girl's Corner - Goin' fishin'

"Wow!" exclaimed Farm Girl, "That cold water is a real eye opener when it hits your hoo-hoo!

 

 

 

 

"You just said, 'hoo-hoo' ", observed Delacroix, "and with a straight face."

 

"Yes", said Farm Girl primly. "You don't want me to be crude do you? This is a family site."

 

 

"First of all you're a grown woman, second, it isn't a family site! Nobody visits this site. Not families, not crooked politicians to use a redundancy, not dirty old men in third floor walk up apartments in Hoboken." said Delacroix, "You want to say the P word, say it! C word? Who could possibly have a problem with that? You have to be reading content before you can start bitching about content. How about vag? I think vag is ok?

 

"Vag is ok. I'll stick to hoo-hoo, though."

 

"Stick to your sheets if that's what you want. What are you doing, anyway?"

 

"Trying to catch every fish mentioned at  "http://www.bubblews.com/pulses/171475-namethatfishy" which would be a feather in my cap."

"Why do you want feathers in your cap?"

"I don't want feathers in my cap! What I really want to do is read all the entries at "http://www.mygardeningnetwork.com/ ", the best gardening site on the web.

"Oh I see", said Delacroix, "well who wouldn't?" 

 

 



The Best Gardening Site on the Web

Howwwwwdeeee! I'm Farm Girl and today on Farm Girl's Cor..

NOT FARM GIRL

"Hold it just a darn minute!", said the real Farm Girl. "You're not Farm Girl. You're Vida G. Roving Reporter for the shed. What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I'm Farm Girl.", said Farm Girl, reasonably.

YEP. IT'S FARM GIRL.

"I'm Farm Girl!", said Aunt Agnes, boozily.

"I'm Spartacus!" said Mallory, as he walked in the door with Millie Quackenbush and a badly depleted sack of fresh donuts.

"Shut, it, George. Agnes, go play in traffic. Hiya Millie, what's in the sack?"

"And Vida what the hell were you up too?"

"I was going to do a Farm Girls Corner, I thought you were on vacation?"

"I was on vacation. Me and the old goat went Mosasaur fishing back in the late Cretaceous. Caught a worlds record Hainosaurus as a matter of fact."

"Heinous sores? Caught 'em from Uncle Mac I bet. Did you try Neosporin?", contributed Agnes.

"Agnes! Put a sock in it! Okay, Vida, what was the corner going to be about?"

"Just this", said Vida, punching up a site on the computer, "The best damned gardening site on the web."

Every one gathered around.

http://www.mygardeningnetwork.com/

"Oh I say!" said Mallory, "that's bloody impressive!"

"Hmmmmph." Hmmmmphed Farm Girl, "Yes it is. But what makes them better than us?"

"No Agnes." said Vida.

"We're screwed.", said Farm Girl.
  

Agnes is a happy gal

Delacroix strode in the shed door, the one on the side facing Millie's orchard. The big Lapua .338 was neatly tucked under her right arm.

"Who's dead?" inquired Uncle Mac, who was de-podding rutabaga seeds at the crude picnic table.

"No one you'd know", said Delacroix, tossing a bag of recovered brass on the table. "I was just checking the piece out after Twinkle Toes used it. It seems pretty much ok"

"By Twinkle Toes you mean Vida?"

"The very twinkler I had in mind." Lacey said.

"You lent her that freakin' cannon? What for?"

"I didn't lend her a damn thing. She "borrowed" it. Took it to Catulpa Valley and tried to eradicate that twit Victor. Admirable idea of course but she missed him three times clean, once from 70 yards. 70 yards! Blew a hole the size of the national debt through Violet's house in the bargain."

"What did you do to her?" asked Mac, sounding as if he'd rather not know.

"We had a conversation about borrowing other peoples weapons. I think next time, she'll ask first."

"At least there'll be a next time. You're mellowing in your old age."

There came an unexpected interruption from the garden, a protracted screech, fifty percent ululation, fifty percent triumphal bleat. One hundred percent unpleasant.

Uncle M flinched.

"What the hell is up with Agnes?" he said.

"Haven't you heard? She got herself a little head, and wants the entire world to know about it"

Delacroix looked closely at Uncle Mac. She had seem him angry, annoyed,  and irritated. She had seen him euphoric, moderately pleased and positively ecstatic. She had seen a look of boozy lust lighting up his whiskery mug as he followed Farm Girl to the nearest hay stack. But she had never before witnessed anything like the rictus of horror that clung like a death mask to his suddenly bloodless face as the import of her announcement sunk in.

"I expect she'll be in to tell you about it any second now."


"Yeeee-haaaa!"

Agnes Dalrymple exploded through the garden side door:

"Look'ee here Mac, at whut I done! I took a pitcher for yew!"

"No!" said Uncle M hoarsely, clapping his hands over his eyes. "get the hell away from me you aberration! I won't look"

"Well watcher...don't yew want to see mah cabbage whut I growed?"

A semi-stifled snort of what might have been laughter* emerged from Delacroix's vicinity.

"Cabbage?" whispered Mac.

The fingers clasped to his face parted marginally. A bloodshot eye focused on the Polaroid** which Agnes thrust at him, beaming.

"She's real little now but soon we can berl 'er up with corn' beef and make some 'tater salad!"

" 'Tater salad." said Uncle Mac.

"Yup!" said Agnes

"Very nice, Agnes. Now maybe you should go water it, or weed it. Or something."

"Okee Dokey!

And Agnes wandered aimlessly away.

Uncle M looked accusingly at Lacey, who smiled serenely back.

"Ten AM." he said, reaching under the table for the ever-present Napoleons' brandy. "the sun, somewhere, has to be over a yard arm."

                               ***************************

*Hard to tell, coming from Lacey.

**From the last functioning camera, nearly as old as Agnes herself.