Sunday, September 20, 2009

Something wicked this way digs

So where have I been? No marriages in my world. It's been all business and, well, the business ain't been good. Turns out I've been spending too much time pursuing the natives and their long-eared kin. A whole new nemesis has worked its way into my back 40. The border collie pointed it out a couple weeks back. "See those bumps all over the sideyard?" he asked, flipping the pages of Granta and popping a Saltine into his mouth. "Moles. Better study up, bud. It's showtime."

Well, I ain't much for book learnin'. My first cram session about moles didn't work out too well. Spent all day worrying we all had skin cancer. The border collie sighed and rummaged around on the IntraWeb and put me straight.

Turns out these are ugly varmits who can turn the countryside into swiss cheese. Oh sure, cartoons try to make anything cuddly and harmless. But these things dig and dig and pretty soon you've got an 18-hole golf course right up your backside. And they kill shrubs. Not good for my job security with the newfangled plants the house mates had installed last year.

My mission is simple. Turn these things into slippers or I get sacked. The pressure is on...


  1. Good luck, Riley! I know you can get the job done. If all else fails, try the hose.

  2. Well, the housemates, aka expensive plant installers, could have at least warned you that mole hill monitoring was part of your job description, Riley T. Like the idea of moleskin(ha!)slippers. Were you thinking Christmas sales?