Larry and Mick do a Spot of Gardening

'I recently went through a phase of being bored of weeing; then I thought, "it's gotta be done, so why not enjoy it?'
'Pass me the spade, Mick.'
'Which made me think about bodily functions in general. I mean, we spend half our lives performing them-'
'Trowel.'
'And that's another thing, by the way... why do we "perform bodily functions? I mean, is it an act of theatre? Do we imagine we are on stage while we're emptying our-'
'Free packet of seeds we got with The Daily Mail.'
'Which reminds me, I must ring the hospital about my grandad's cholostomy bag.'
'How does a free packet of seeds remind you of a cholostomy bag?'
'No, not the seeds, the-... oh never mind.'
Mick passed Larry the seeds.
'So anyway, what is that you're planting there, friends Larry?'
'Dunno. Thought I'd just stick 'em in the ground, see what happens.'
'What if we get a giant beanstalk?'
'Do you think that's likely to happen?'
'Probably not.'
'Then I shouldn't worry about it too much.'
Larry stood, brushed off his hands and surveyed his handiwork.
'I don't think much of it so far,' said Mick.
'The botanical arts require patience, my lad.'
'Patience?'
'And plenty of it.'
'Shall I get the kettle on?'
'Decaf?'
'Don't be ridiculous.'
'Go on then.'

* * *

Three cups of non-decaf tea later, Mick looked out the window.
'Still nothing,' said he.
'We've only had three cups of tea!' said Larry.
'And a sticky bun,' said Mick.
'A sticky bun doth not a tall tree make.'
'A tall tree?'
'Or some vegetables.'
'I've always wanted to grow my own asparagus.'
'A large round turnip?'
'Perhaps even a variant of pondweed.'
'But you are lacking of a pond.'
'Stranger things happen at sea.'
'Do they really?'
'I wouldn't know, I've never travelled beyond Dorset.'
'Ey oop there, friend Larry, what is yon creature, presently to be found scrabbling amongst yon newly created arable land?'
'Should you use "yon twice in one sentence?'
'I just did.'
'Fair enough.'
'Is it a ferret?'
'Is what a ferret?'
'The ferret.'
'What ferret?'
'That ferret!'
'Nah, it's a mongoose.'
'Time for a brew?'
'I thought you'd never ask!'

* * *

As it turned out, it was a common or garden moggy. A cat. A creature of the feline persuasion. And a scruffy one at that. Who, as it happens, was less interested in the newly planted seeds (which had still not grown into anything after five cups of England's finest and a packet of malted milks), and more in the spare individual fruit trifle his friend Cyril (a dog) had planted in the corner of the garden, by the toolsheld, three weeks ago. 'In case of emergencies,' Cyril had said, whilst munching on a dried pig's ear. 'Whatever,' Flaubert (the moggy) had opined, thinking the dog three chunks short of a tin of stewed beef, and fully intending to extract said 'spare' individual fruit trifle from the earth to which it had been confined at the earliest available opportunity. Which was now. But that's by the by...
'It's not a mongoose, it's a cat,' said Mick; 'and it's eating an individual fruit trifle.'
'I was saving that!' said Larry.
'How did you know it was there?' said Mick.
'I saw Cyril, the neighbourhood dog, bury it in the corner of the garden, by the toolshed, three weeks ago,' said Larry.
'Well whatever,' said Mick; 'yon aforementioned beastie appears to be posing little or no threat to yon aforementioned newly created arable land.'
'Two "yons and two "aforementioneds,' noted Larry. 'Isn't there a law against such things?'
In an act unprecedented amongst the protagonists, Mick carefully replaced his present cuppa on a nearby coaster, extracted a larger-than-average teaspoon from the left breast pocket of his tassled denim shirt and thwacked Larry on the forehead with it.
'Ouch!' responded Larry appropriately. 'Why dost thou smite me with yon larger-than-average teaspoon?'
'See!' said Mick. 'You said it!'
'Said what?'
' "Yon!'
'I did not!'
'Did too!'
'Well let's ask the author, shall we? Author... did Larry, or did he not, say "yon?'
'He most certainly did,' said I.
'That's no cause for physical violence.'
'How else am I supposed to get the message through to you?'
'What message?'
'Dunno, I'm a little tetchy after so much caffeine.'
'I'd say.'
'Speaking of which, any progress yet?' said Mick.
'On what?'
'Yon-'
Larry coughed pointedly.
'The,' said Mick, with no small degree of caffeine-induced venom, 'seeds.'
'Dunno, I'm bored of botany,' said Larry.
'Me too,' said Mick.
'Shall we go on a bike ride?' said Larry.
'Why the Shrek not!' said Mick.
And so they did.

[ FIN ]