Gusty Blusts

and other stories The Weird and Wonderful World of "J"
Approx 465 words | Read time approx 2 - 4 mins

Snuffling in the undergrowth

Bottom thrust skyward

A strange old man turns up in the garden and without so much as a word starts to wage war on the weeds . . .

WHILE SAT READING in silence, my concentration was unexpectedly interrupted by a snuffling sound coming from outside the open window.

Living on a farmstead you kind of get used to an assortment of animals showing up in your garden and well, snuffling around in your undergrowth so, I really wasn’t all that concerned.

Although quite why they preferred a work-in-progress weed strewn wasteland to that of their green open pastures I’d no idea, but then the beasties really are rather large and, as I’ve discovered, tend not to take a blind bit of notice.

The snuffling continued, only now it was also interspersed with a curious metallic scraping sound, the occasional grunt and the unfortunately all-too-frequent raucous release of intestinal gas.

With my concentration now unable to compete with this all-out-assault on my senses I went to the window to investigate. And of all the things I was expecting to see – a large pair of buttocks, thrust skyward and unfortunately aimed in my direction, wasn’t one of them.

Thankfully these particular buttocks were clad in a pair of green canvas shorts, albeit stretched to capacity in a desperate attempt to contain the copious content – presenting the very real and all-too-imminent danger of ripping and exposing their indecency to the world. Or, in this unfortunate instance, just me.

DandelionIf that wasn’t quite bad enough – it was nothing compared to the two taut, undercooked sausages sorry, I mean pink hairy legs that protruded from out below the shorts and extended downwards and into a pair of over-sized hobnail boots.

It became increasingly evident that the source of the noise was of the lesser spotted human variety. In other words a strange old man armed with a gardening trowel and on what seemed to be a mission to rid my garden of anything that remotely resembled a weed.

As for who he was, where he’d come from or perhaps more importantly why he’d chosen my garden since it wasn’t exactly near anywhere, I’d absolutely no idea. Although I’ve learnt that it’s usually best not to ask and besides he was doing me a favour after all.

So, I did the only decent thing and just left him to it and after a couple of hours silence eventually returned and I forgot all about the snuffling incident. Well, that was until I sneezed and an unexpected ‘bless you!’ came in through the open window.

Only the old guy was nowhere to be seen – he’d disappeared just as mysteriously as he’d arrived – leaving behind a wasteland bereft of all weeds . . .

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2 Responses to “Snuffling in the undergrowth”

  1. 1
    Scripto says:

    Cheeky beggar! Ha! Ha! Did he come back and plant anything for you . . . ?

  2. 2
    J says:

    Sadly not, no 🙂

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