A short story by Katie M. Eken
It was an otherwise pleasant day, as Barbara stared out the window, furious about the gas-powered mower her neighbor was driving around his 250 square foot lawn. Last year, when she measured, Lyle was backpacking Wales, so it was a good opportunity to find out just how wasteful his use of small engine power on his lawn actually was. Between dust baths and feedings, as she was watching his Chinchilla, she snuck into the garage to poke a hole in the front tire of his John Deere riding mower. The day he returned, he tried to mow, but had to wait until his tire was fixed, and that’s when she offered to push reel mow his lawn, in hopes that he’d want that done all the time, once he witnessed how much better it was, but he quickly fixed the tire and continued on as usual.
It had been several months since she had worked on her business idea, Reel Earthy Lawn Care, but work today had been slow. She was spending summers working seasonally at The Loco Taco food truck, but each summer seemed to drag on longer than the one before. Watching wealthy tourists drunkenly line up for tacos, with their demanding attitudes, had grown old. She wasn’t entirely sure how she ended up here, with a Ph.D. in environmental policy.
The funding at the company she worked for years ago ran out; she became cynical and lost motivation. Tacos were appealing then, and so was spending summers observing tourists, instead of toxic algal blooms at Rainy Lake. At 58, she wasn’t about to pound the pavement to make a career pivot. Barbara’s only real passion these days, was getting as many gas-powered mowers off of lawns as possible.
It was August 25th, the birthday of Edwin Beard Budding, inventor of the first push reel mower in 1830, and Barbara had her annual ticket to Stroud, Gloucestershire, England to wander through the Push Reel Mower Museum. Edwin was her hero. She’d drive through the countryside of England where he grew up, gazing out at the lawns, glaring at the people shamelessly riding gas-powered mowers, in the land of the very place he changed the course of lawn care. Such ungrateful imbeciles, she’d think to herself, as she rolled down her window, to give a vicious look of disapproval.
Once her flight landed, she rushed out of the airport, to quickly push through her moment of environmental hypocrisy. She knew flying was terrible for the atmosphere, but it was the only time she ever made this exception. With her backpack full of clothes, she walked to the neighborhood in Stroud to nap on the very grass where Edwin Budding once pushed his first reel mower. Snuggled up to the side of a tree, she dreamed of a planet where every boulevard was a garden, and every lawn, lovingly reel mowed. The obnoxious sounds of a gas-powered mower in the distance awoke her, as she glared, shouting, “Imbeciles! Always destroying my dreams of a better world,” before heading toward the museum, fuming.
Andy, a historic mower expert, was re-arranging the back of the Push Reel Mower Museum, when he noticed a woman staring at him out of the corner of his eye. She had on a flowery shawl, with large wire framed glasses. He hated to abandon the parts organizing project, but her staring had him intrigued. It had been years since a creature of the female kind had paid him any attention, and whenever he tried discussing Reel Mowers on dates, the women would find an excuse to leave. The woman continued staring, as he approached her, then held out her hand, to say, “Where’s the No. 1623 Budding mower?”
The historic mower expert moved closer, in awe that she knew the specific type of mower housed within the museum, and said, “Follow me.”
They walked through a corridor, then into a basement, where hundreds of reel mowers were lined up, parts strewn about, every type imaginable, from the earliest models, to the most recent. Barbara could hardly breathe. She gasped, as she said, “My god, I think I’ve died and gone to the promised land.”
Clearing his throat, the historic mower expert told her, “Just you wait until we go upstairs. I’ve got a 1940’s No. 3157 waiting for you to caress.”
Barbara, noticing the man’s ringless hand, suddenly found herself blushing. She had never met a historic mower expert before, let alone one who so eagerly shared a mutual passion for reel mowers. He appeared tough, which was necessary, since she found any man weaker that herself to be repulsive. She suddenly regretted wearing the flowery shawl she threw on,
wishing she had chosen a more elegant style. Uncertain of whether she was making a poor impression, she told the historic mower expert that she had to go, but would return the next day, using the excuse that her dog was diabetic, and needed his insulin injection.
She got back to the hotel and set down her things, only to find herself weeping that she couldn’t find the courage to ask the historic mower expert out to dinner. They could’ve ended the night by gouging out gas-powered mower tires around town. Then, if things went well, she’d maybe bring him back to her hotel room, where they would work together on the Reel Earthy Lawn Care business plan. Lost in her daydream, she didn’t notice someone had been knocking on the door for the past several minutes. Startled, she walked over to see who it was, opening it just a crack, to find Andy standing outside.
Barbara, having never been followed to a destination by a man in such a bold way, felt flattered. Mild stalking, she justified, was acceptable when done by a historic mower expert. Adam, with a look of concern on his face that implied he was aware that his behavior could be interpreted in a negative light, said, “I only knew you were here, because you happened to drop your spare hotel key, and I figured, while I’m dropping it off, I’d ask if you’d be interested in going around the neighborhood to cut starter cords on the gas-powered mowers. It’s what I do on Friday nights.”
Shocked, Barbara exclaimed, “I wanted to go back to the museum to ask you that very same thing, only I tend to slash tires instead. How about I slash tires, and you snap the starter cords?” “Perfect,” Andy replied. They set off for town, dressed in all black, with knives in hand. Barbara couldn’t believe her luck, as they neared the South neighborhood, as Andy reached for her hand. It had been seven years since she held hands with a man, convincing herself she’d be happily dying alone, on purpose, after her last boyfriend left her in a fury, accusing her of caring more about push reel mowers than him. While it was true, she didn’t feel it gave a good enough reason for him to give up on what they had. She knew things with the historic reel mower expert would be different.
They approached a house on the corner of the street, with a three-stall garage, and Andy cut out a hole they could crawl through, with a Sawzall. Once in the garage, they spotted three giant John Deere rider mowers.
“Good god!” Barbara exclaimed, “three giant riders, for a lawn that’s hardly 500 square feet!”
“I know,” Andy scoffed, “Can you believe it? Oh, how the other half lives. The brainwashed, unenlightened half, that inadvertently choke out birds with their small engine exhaust.”
Right then, Barbara found herself overtaken with lust. She was awe struck by Andy’s environmental consciousness and ripped off her clothes. She then ordered him to do the same, and they made ferocious love on the seat of the John Deere rider, until they heard the garage door open. A woman wearing a business suit walked toward the vehicle to the left of the mowers, without noticing the lovers in their throes of passion. Barbara grabbed a tarp to cover them both, as they heard the woman back out the car. Assuming they were in the clear, once it began closing again, they got up, dressed, and began severing the gas lines, and slashing tires, only to notice a security camera TV, capturing their every movement in real time.
They ran out of the garage, deciding they’d have to accept they’d be summoned to court for their deeds. Andy bent down on one knee, and said, “Look, Barbara, I realize this is rash, being we only met today, but if our fates lead us to confinement in prison, I don’t want to wait. Will you marry me?”
Barbara, blushing, said, “Yes!”
They headed to the next house, where they discovered a mower sitting under a tree. It was a Husqvarna TS 120. They both silently understood that this was a piece of machinery worth over $2500, absurd for a small lawn within city limits. Andy grabbed his wire cutters, and began stripping out the starter chords, while Barbara took her knife to all four tires. Satisfied with the progress, they swiftly moved along to all the houses in the neighborhood, finally calling it a night, once the sun rose. Their adrenaline carried them back to the hotel, hand in hand, as they discussed the progress they made in the name of environmental justice.
As they rounded the block to return to their hotel room, they heard police sirens, along with several bicycle mounted police heading their way.
Barbara grabbed Andy, pulling him into the pine trees lining the curb, as loose cones jabbed their bodies. “Ouch!” Andy yelled before he screamed, “There’s a pine needle sticking directly into the vein of my arm!” capturing the attention of the nearby police.
“Shhhhh,” Barbara said, not much quieter than Andy’s screaming.
Twelve police officers barricaded the trees, as they reached in to drag them out by the ears. Their rights were read to them, as the police explained they had camera footage of them breaking and entering into a garage, indecent exposure, and destruction of property. They said there had been five more reports that night of mower destruction, so they’d be held in jail, until their trial began.
Barbara glanced at Andy and told him that this is going to test their relationship. Andy was only concerned with his vein, that was now gushing blood at a rapid pace, with the needle jammed an inch into his arm. He was turning pale. A police officer walked over and told Andy that he should have considered the consequences before whining about a little boo boo, then pulled the pine needle out of his arm, causing Andy to scream, cuss, then kick the officer in the thigh. The officer then pinned Andy to the ground, and told him he was now an official felon, for assaulting an officer. Another officer turned pale, upon noticing the pints of blood loss, gushing out of Andy’s arm, as he called for back up.
Barbara, never one to feel attraction to what she felt was a man appearing weak, explained to Andy that their love would have made it through the trials of imprisonment, but that she just couldn’t see herself with such a wimp. She explained how her initial attraction had suddenly died, and that the historic mower expert outlaw she believed herself to be marrying, just wasn’t the man he was presenting as. She ducked her head, as an officer directed her into the back of his car.
An ambulance hauled Andy off, as the other officers stood around, discussing what an odd case this was. A few more calls came in, with angry people venting about their destructed mowers. Barbara began dreaming up plans for Reel Earthy Lawn Care, as she waited in the lobby of the jail, when she noticed a tall, handsome man reading a pamphlet about the history museum that held the original reel mower. Feeling grateful to be through with Andy, she introduced herself, before asking, “What are you in for?”
The pamphlet reading man replied, “Arson, what about you?”
Barbara, blushing, found herself overtaken with lust, as she said, “Breaking and entering, and destruction of property,” as she added in a sultry tone, “Two of my favorite things.”
“Those are two of my favorite things too, arson is my favorite property destroying method,” the man said.
Barbara, in disagreement, told the man he needed to try a minimalist approach sometime, using just knives, along with any necessary equipment for the initial break-in. The pamphlet reading man suddenly got up from his chair, walked over to Barbara, and began stripping off his clothes. Barbara suddenly regretted wearing the slovenly jeans and t-shirt she had chosen for the earlier rampage against gas-powered mowers. Noticing that the man didn’t seem to mind, she asked if he wanted to go in on her push reel mowing business with her. The man re-dressed, then said, “No. I own stock in gas-powered Honda mowers. That would cut into my bottom line.”
Barbara’s fury was once again unleashed, as she ran to the lobby, demanding she be moved to another waiting area, but the officer stared her down, before he said, “You got yourself in here, darling; we don’t accommodate criminals.”
Furious, Barbara grabbed her pen, stabbing the officer’s picture of him with his family on a vacation somewhere sunny, shattering the frame, as she yelled, “Do you see that green grass in the background of this photo? Do you realize that perfectly curated lawns are all that is wrong with this world?”
Alarmed, the officer cuffed Barbara, and sent her back to the lobby where the man was flickering a smuggled in lighter. Barbara suddenly regretted pushing her views onto the gas mower stock owning man, and realized how much she missed Andy, despite his off-putting display of weakness. She realized she’d never meet another man with a similar passion, and began to sob, as the man crumpled the pamphlet, setting it aflame.
