Green sweeping gently the face of the sky, shadows stroke the green, chasing playfully the wind. All is well, the game.
A leaf lays like a red smudge on the green, foreign, alone, lonely. An orphan, out cast, defoliated, adrift on a tranquil, lawn.
Ah, but a yard away he has a friend, and that friend has another! Comrades, brothers in arms.
This is a scouting party, the away team heraldring a full scale invasion!
Again we are besieged! The attack is on! To the walls, gather up the defenses! Every man to be issued a weapon, every man to fight with honor.
My weapon, a horrific, diabolical, nightmare concocted my Mikey Angelo his self. Whirling blades of death, a fanning scythe of steel powered by a pissed off growling engine. Yes, the Huskerveniermeinerverfjord roars into action.
Just like last year and the year before. The never ending war of keeping a nice lawn.
Any story boiled down enough comes to, man vs man, man vs nature, man vs self. Women? Your own your own.
Now man vs man and man vs self is the same thing, really. But man vs nature? Whoa, that's something else entirely.
Because it isn't nature vs man. Nature is unconcerned with man. It is man foolishly throwing himself against nature, challenging the gods who care for him not.
Which means it is really man vs self again.
I challenge me then to a decent looking lawn! Have at me!
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