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The War in the Garden Part 5

Posted 05-20-2010 at 08:08 AM by BigwigRabbit

Sam went directly to his garage and got out his “special cookbook.” He gathered several household ingredients and cooked and mixed them in proper temperatures and proportions. He carefully packed them into a 2 liter soda bottle, drilled a small hole in the cap and affixed a fuse. He set the volatile concoction aside and sat down to plan his attack. <!--break-->Meanwhile, Ed and his father had conferred with each other and decided that the situation had gotten more than slightly out of hand. They determined that a time away was in order. They left for their small mountain cabin that evening.
At precisely 8:30 that night, a tremendous explosion ripped through the night. A brilliant flash preceded it and a luminous mushroom cloud followed. The wall to the rear of Plimpy’s house was blown partially through the windows of the house behind. Plimpy’s garden was incinerated. All of the windows in the back of Plimpy’s house were shattered. Pieces of masonry flew through both Sam’s and Ed’s windows. The tool shed in Plimpy’s yard gave up a secondary explosion as the gas containers stored there for use with the various internal combustion powered yard tools caught fire and burst forth with more fire. A third explosion occurred when the Liquid Petroleum Gas cans that the neighbors behind had stored in a small shed also violently ruptured in flame.
The calls to the police were this time many and varied. Plimpy was corralled on the next block, having fled the conflagration in abject terror. Once the police had abdicated Plimpy of any involvement in the fray, and had ascertained that Ed and his father were truly out of town, their investigation turned sharply upon Sam. The end of the night, or the wee hours of the morning, as it were, saw Sam taken away, handcuffed in a patrol car, and Plimpy surveying the significant damage done to his home, yard, and garden. His evil neighbors (both of them) had done this, he knew.
“Oh, well. Nothing to be done now,” said Plimpy to himself and he waddled up to bed.
The next morning Plimpy went to the local big-box warehouse store and picked up cinder blocks and mortar. He spent the day repairing the wall to the rear of his property. The neighbor behind came out while he was working. He addressed Plimpy, who took the opportunity to put down his mortar trowel, wipe his brow and rest.
“What happened last night?”
“I don’t know,” Plimpy replied, truly unapprised of the situation
“Looks like a bomb went off.”
“Yes, it could be that.”
“Whataya mean ‘could be’? Your garden is burnt to a crisp and this wall is destroyed. There was a huge boom last night and a fireball to match. Who bombed you?”
“I can see you’re right. Oh yeah, the police took Sam to jail last night.” Plimpy picked up his trowel and began to set another cinder block precisely into position. The neighbor noticed and thought briefly that this guy must be some kind of idiot-savant.
“Hey. You’re doing a really good job here. Why do you think Sam firebombed you yard?”
“I really don’t know.”
“Perhaps you might want to find out. Someone could get hurt if it happens again.”
Plimpy ran these words through his dull mind. He never dreamed of doubting anything the other man said. He couldn’t grasp the concept, though. He finished rebuilding the wall and put away his tools. He took the broken blocks from the old wall and threw them over the fence, again thinking nothing of it moments after the deed. He then set about repairing his garden. About the time Plimpy had his garden back up and running, Sam was finally let out of jail.
Sam had been sentenced to 3 years in jail, but he served only six months because he was very well behaved and the Sheriff’s Department ran out of jail space, so they let go a bunch of “low-risk” inmates. Sam got back home and saw both Plimpy’s new garden, as well as a tremendous pile of junk that had been deposited on his property during his absence. Sam decided that he was going to be much smarter this time about retaliating.
Once Plimpy noticed that Sam was back home, he devised a plan to deflect a bomb, if another were to come flying over the fence. He went to a local glass and mirror store and purchased a 3 foot by 5 foot piece of thick, clear Plexiglas. He fashioned a base out of wood and metal, complete with casters so he could wheel the heavy and awkward shield into position. He finished a little after dark and wheeled it out, placing it between his again flourishing tomatoes and Sam’s yard. He then went in and went to sleep.
Sam waited for an hour after it was full dark. He had tried earlier to enlist the help of Ed and Kurt but they would have nothing to do with him anymore. They had said that the thing had gone too far and that it was time to end it. Sam had stomped back home in a huff. He forced himself to calm down and think. He hit upon the perfect plan while staring blankly into a garage cupboard. There in the back sat his Crossman pellet gun. It was a pump-type pistol that could shoot a BB or lead pellet at a very satisfactory velocity.
An hour after full dark, Sam slipped out to the back, armed with the pistol and plenty of BBs. He planned to put a BB through each and every tomato on Plimpy’s 4 plants. He loaded the first one and pumped air pressure into the pistol straining his eyes in the dark to make out the tomatoes. He focused on one, took careful aim and fired. The air-pistol made a quiet “poof,” he heard a metallic “crack,” and felt an intense sting hit the center of his forehead. “OUCH!” he screamed before he could control the outburst. He sat against the fence, hand on head, frantically trying to figure out what had happened.
Blood was now trickling down, but the pain was no longer growing. Sam reloaded as quietly as possible. He rose silently took aim again, and fired. Again, the soft “poof” was followed by the metallic “crack” and searing pain across his cheek. Something was bouncing the BBs back at him. He lurched back to the house. After applying gauze and pressure to his wounds to stop the profuse flow of blood, he grabbed a flashlight and went back out. The beam of the flashlight revealed the Plexiglas with two white blemished where the two BBs had hit. Sam noticed that there was no clear shot at the tomatoes because of the shield. Intensely frustrated, he went in and went to bed.
At the appointed time, 5:30 A.M. Plimpy’s alarm sounded, rousing him from restful sleep. The words of the man came reverberating through his mostly empty head. It was 8:30 before he came to the conclusion that he should go next door and ask Sam what was happening. The ringing doorbell was answered by a rumpled Sam, who stumbled back 3 steps upon seeing Plimpy standing meekly in front of him.
“Umm. I was just wondering…Umm…Why are you mad at me?”
“What??!! You…Wha?!” Sam was incredulous. “Come here!” he screamed.
Plimpy followed him in through the house and out to the backyard. Sam stomped over to an enormous scattering of broken blocks, plastic flower pots, empty soil bags, broken buckets, weeds, and about six months worth of dog’s droppings.
“That,” screamed Sam, pointing with a shaking finger, “That is what I’m angry about!”
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  1. Old Comment
    teach2reach's Avatar

    The War in the Garden

    Now I am curious as to what Plimpy's reaction is going to be...

    Just wondering, do you have a bad neighbor you don't like IRL? Or is it totally made up? I'm not sure I would want a neighbor like Plimpy (or Sam for that matter). Poop over the fence...yuck.
    Posted 05-20-2010 at 06:55 PM by teach2reach teach2reach is offline
  2. Old Comment
    BigwigRabbit's Avatar
    The whole premise is completely made up. The only things that one might consider real are the patio (I've got a concrete patio and I based Plimpy's yard loosely on my own) and the afternoon sea breeze.
    Posted 05-21-2010 at 04:43 AM by BigwigRabbit BigwigRabbit is offline
 


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