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Current mood:  scared Category: Writing and Poetry
A full moon lit the midnight sky the evening before that wicked and fateful day. Perhaps that alone should have served as a hint, a warning, indeed even an omen to the dreadful events that lay in wait just beyond the dawn. Likewise, the sudden and stinging bite of the cold October air as I stood on my porch watching the sun slowly make its way from the peaks of the towering mountains, should have lent a clue that this was to be no ordinary autumn day.
I have always loved the serene and peaceful hour preceding the dawn of a new day but this morning it was not peaceful rejuvenation that had roused me from my slumber and beckoned me out onto my porch. No, today there was work to be done. Today my attention would be focused upon that long, gnarled web of tangled and unsightly jungle grass that grew wildly just beyond the safety of my porch. Its hideous greenish-yellow tentacles stretching far out onto the county owned street. Reaching and hungering for any unsuspecting pedestrian who might have the misfortune of passing within reach of its mossy grasp.
It had been less than a month since I had set the blades of my trusty Toro Super-Mulcher Mower to its lowest setting and attacked my once beautifully manicured summer lawn, till all that remained was a five o'clock shadow of green nubbins. I assumed that would be the final mowing of the Season. The letter I received from the Salt Lake County Sheriff''s office informing me I may be held financially liable for any search and rescue efforts conducted on my property for missing children and/or pets, changed my earlier assumption.
I felt an eerie chill penetrate my loins as I stood upon my porch that early October morning. Glancing down I noticed the source of the chill to be my little "Tom Johnson" peeking his head from his fur laden nest out of the open fly of my boxer shorts. Poor little shriveled up guy was liable to catch his death of cold exposed to this frosty morning air. Shoving "Tommy" back into his nest I turned and walked back into the soothing warmness of my house.
By 8:30 am I had gained the courage to return outside and face the bitter October chill. Frantically I began searching the garage for my beloved, bright red, always dependable Toro Lawn Mower. It was nowhere to be found.
"Where is it!" I shouted as I ran back into the house in a panic. "Where is it!"
"Where's what?" asked my wife, Teresa, calmly unaware that my prized Toro had very likely been kidnapped.
"My lawn-mower," I moaned. "It's not in the garage, where is it?"
"Oh, didn't I tell you?" Teresa answered sheepishly.
"Tell me what?"
"You left your silly lawn-mower right in back of my car last time you used it, and…"
"Yes! And, what?"
"Uh, well… And I ran over it," she mumbled, diverting her eyes to the floor.
"You what!" I shouted at the top of my lungs.
"I ran over it," she stated clearly, looking me directly in the eye.
"You ran over it!" I ranted. "You ran over it! Teresa, how could you run over my six horse power Toro Super-Mulcher?"
"It wasn't hard," Teresa snapped, obviously growing irritated by my overreaction. "You left if sitting against the back bumper where it was impossible to be seen"
"But, Teresa…"
"What's the big deal?" she asked rolling her eyes. "You still have that old mower of your sisters under the tarp in the back of the garage.
"You mean the Green Beast," I shouted in alarm. "You want me to use the Green Beast?"
"Yes," Teresa answered placing her hands on her hips in a matter of fact gesture. "It should do for one last mowing, then we can get your beloved Toro repaired before next spring."
"But, Tereeeeesa," I pleaded nervously pacing back and forth. "You know very well that the Green Beast is possessed! How dare you ask me to start meddling with dark, unknown forces?"
"For Heavens sake, you're not going to start this again are you?" Teresa retorted in disgust.
"But…"
"I told you before and I'm telling you again. It's a lawn mower, a piece of machinery. An inanimate object that is acted upon, therefore incapable of being possessed."
"Then how do you explain…"
"Lattie," she said again cutting me off. "That old lawn mower is not now nor has it ever been possessed!"
I have been married long enough to realize when I had been defeated in an argument. After seven years of claiming Teresa as my better half the score card now read; Lattie 0, Teresa 746. I was becoming the consummate professional in accepting defeat. My last chance of gaining enough ground in which to claim a mere draw would be to flash my best "Sad Puppy-Dog Eyes" at her.
"Now quit making excuses and get the lawn cut before it begins to storm."
DAMN! Make it 747 straight losses for the "Puppy-Dog Eyes."
The Green Beast was a Frankenstein of a lawn mower made up of at least seven different models of Craftsmen
Mower's, a few spare parts from a 1984 Snapper and driven by a freak engine taken from a 1975 AMC Pacer. Assembled and brought to life by my brother-in-law's Uncle Damien, then lent to me four years ago out of sheer generosity by my one and only loving sister.
"Be careful with her," my brother-in-law had warned with a sinister chuckle. "She can sometimes have a mind of her own, if you know what I mean."
No, I had not known what he had meant, for if I had, I would have left that ugly, evil 'Frankenmower' with him, letting it haunt and torment his family for the next four years.
I stood alone in my garage staring down at the dust covered tarp concealing the evil that lay beneath in the corner of my garage. I found myself frozen and unable to throw the tarp aside thus facing and confronting my own demons. I thought back to the one and only time I had attempted to bring life to the Green Beast. Three cats, four pigeons, a vinyl fence and a redwood deck had been lost or severely injured on that day. That was not to mention the countless cuts, bruises and psychological damage I personally had sustained.
With trembling hands I took a corner of the tarp in both of my hands then took a deep and cleansing breath. This was it, time to face my worst inner fears and not be intimidated. 'The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.' That phrase ran through my mind again and again that morning in my garage. Whatever asshole had uttered those immortal words had never had to face the Green Beast. Of that I was certain.
With my eyes tightly shut I gave the tarp a tug, flinging it high over my head. Slowly I gained the courage to open my eyes enough to peek through the narrow opening of my eyelids. For the first time in four years I caught a glimpse of the Beast. Every bit as ugly and hideous as I had remembered her to be, she sat in the corner glaring up at me. I could almost hear her demonic growl as she taunted me, daring me to come closer. As I stood cowering in fear she beckoned me to pull upon her frayed starter cord, thus giving life to the dark forces that hissed forth from her single spark plug.
Suddenly I had inspiration. An idea so simple and pure in its design it boarded upon genius.
"Braden," I called into the house to my thirteen year old son who had been transfixed in front of the TV all morning watching a non-stop marathon of back to back Family Guy episodes.
"What is it Dad?" Braden asked as he bounced out the back door and into the garage.
"Son, how would you like to make fifty bucks this morning?"
"Are you kidding? Sure! Who do I have to kill?" Braden said with visions of at least 55 new songs filling his MP3 player's memory.
"You don't have to kill anybody," I said giving him an obligatory slap to the side of the head. "Just mow both the front and back lawn for me."
"That's all?" Braden asked in disbelief waiting for what must be a punch line from his miser of an old man. "Just mow the lawns and you'll pay me fifty-bucks?"
"Well, and trim the edges and bag the clippings," I added trying to get as much value for my fifty-bucks as I could muster.
"How come the sudden increase?" Braden asked wearily.
"What do you mean son?"
"Well Dad, just last month that same job was only worth five dollars a lawn."
"It's my end of the season offer, now are you going to take it or leave it," I asked shoving my crossed fingers into my pockets hoping my son would fall for my offer.
"I'll take it, I'll take it!" Braden said as he paced from one side of the garage to the other. "So, where is it Dad?"
"Where's what Son?"
"The Toro."
"Oh that," I said searching for just the right words to make light of the situation. "Well Son, there's a slight problem with the Toro."
"What problem?"
"It was involved in a tragic auto accident."
"A lawn mower," Braden questioned. "How can a lawn mower…"
"Look son," I said cutting him off from his line of questions. "An important lesson you'll learn during the course of your life is that sometimes 'Shit Happens'. It's as simple as that."
"Soooo… How am I supposed to mow the lawn Dad?"
"You can use your Uncle Sheldon's old mower," I said turning my back to my son and pretending to straighten some garden tools hanging on the wall.
"You mean the "Green Beast!"
"I mean your Uncle Sheldon's old mower," I said ignoring his reference to the 'Green Beast'.
"FORGET IT DAD!"
"Forget it," I said in mock disbelief. "What do you mean forget it? I just offered you fifty-bucks just to mow the lawn!"
"Not with that mower Dad," Braden said walking back toward the house. "It's possessed of Satan."
"Wait a minute!" I called to my son as he reached for the backdoor handle. "Now, wait just one darn minute! It's one thing that all you want to do is sit around the house all day eating spicy hot Cheeto's and playing video games. But when you become so lazy that you turn down fifty dollars just to cut the grass…"
"Dad!" My son shouted back in defiance. "I was only nine years old, but I remember the last time you used the 'Green Beast'. It ate my two kittens Wilma and Waffle and chased the Milkman out of the yard and down the street."
"Oh, I had forgotten about that," I lied.
"I saw a show about this on the Discovery Channel's Most Haunted' Dad, take my word for it and don't use the 'Beast', he said as he entered the house and let the door slam behind him.
Once again The Beast and I were left alone in the garage. There was nothing left now but the job at hand. The lawn needed one final mowing and it was my duty to act upon The Beast to assure this task would be completed. I had to quit letting fear act upon me. Cautiously I walked toward the Beast and grabbed hold of her starting cord. Then a thought entered my mind. Perhaps a blessing would be appropriate. Or better yet, maybe even an exorcism. I may not be Catholic but I do enjoy a Good Friday Fish Fry, and why leave things up to chance?
"Good Lord Lattie, did I hear you mumbling to your lawn clipper?" a voice from behind me said, nearly causing me to urinate in my pants.
"Jeeeezus Christopher Christ!" I shouted, after realizing the voice had come from Sidney Dupree, my well meaning, and ill fated British neighbor. "Sidney, you nearly caused me a coronary."
"I do apologize Lattie, but I heard you in here conversing with your clipper and feared perhaps your frosting had slipped off your cookie," Sidney said in his usual proper British manner.
"Well, I'm not too sure it hasn't Sid," I said scratching my head and staring down at The Beast.
"Whatever is the matter Lattie?" Sidney asked throwing a reassuring arm around my shoulders.
"Well Sid, I need to mow my lawn one last time and…"
"Yes?" Sidney said, patting me on the back and urging me to continue.
"Well, Teresa ran over my Toro."
"Oh what a shame," Sidney said pulling me close to him and shaking his head sympathetically. "You know Lattie; I hire a young lad to do mine. I don't have a clipper of my own."
"I know Sid, that's okay. I have this other mower."
"Well for goodness sake," Sidney said pulling his arm from around my shoulders. "If this clipper works, then what on earth is the problem?"
"Well Sid, I'm afraid this mower is… Well, I think it might be possessed."
"Possessed?" Sidney screeched. "Whatever are you talking about?"
"You know, Possessed, by demons and such."
"Oh Poppy-Cock," Sidney said laughing at the very idea.
"You don't understand Sidney," I said as I sat on my work bench and rested my head in my hands. "The last time I used this mower it… It… Well, it acted in ways that weren't of this earth."
"For Heavens sake Lattie, you are just over reacting."
"No Sidney," I implored. "There is something evil about this mower, just look at it."
"I see nothing wrong with it at all," Sidney said as he advanced toward The Beast.
"No, Sidney don't," I shouted as Sidney reached for The Beast's starting cord.
It was too late. With a strong and determined tug Sidney pulled on The Beast's cord of life. The Beast huffed and choked, gasping for its first breath of life, then silently returned to its slumber.
"Sidney Please, don't do that," I begged. "Let's be smart about this, do you have any Holy Water? Crucifix? Anything?"
"Now you just stay hushed and sit there," Sidney said as he placed his right foot on The Beasts body for leverage. "I'll get this clipper started for you and together we will clip your grass."
"No Sid, please," I protested. Again my words of warning fell upon deaf ears.
With a second mighty tug Sidney pulled upon The Beast's cord. Again she huffed and choked, but unlike the first attempt this time her gasps for life was not followed by silence. Instead The Beast roared to life with a mighty growl.
"You see, she works just fine," Sidney said as he pushed The Green Beast out of the garage and toward my front lawn.
For fifteen minutes The Beast was subservient to Sidney's every command, as in tandem they worked together mowing perfectly formulated strips in my lawn. Then suddenly and without warning it happened. . .
TO BE CONTINUED...
IN LATTIE'S FIRST PUBLISHED BOOK!!!
DON'T MISS IT...
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
~Lattie~
11:15 PM
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