CROPS, MOPS AND HOPS

Man I wish my boss Dr. Hemoglobin would stop reading books sometimes. Every once and a while he’ll get to reading about something and then even if it doesn’t apply to us he’ll figure a way to make it sound like it does.

He got interested in gardening the other day. So he read up on all the important junk I guess. Then to impress us I suppose he started talking about everything like it was a garden.

And before you know it we were know longer just grimefighters. We were clean farmers plowing the world of filth in hopes of sowing a few seeds of cleanliness. It all came down to us using a mop more. Which sure didn’t seem to me to be any kind of gardening that I ever heard of.

Anyway there we were toting around these mops and pails and trying to understand how they were suppose to be like a hoe and rake. That was how he explained it.

Then we would go out on assignment and when we got back he would be standing there with his new overall duds and straw hat and start talking funny. He says stuff like “how’s the field today?”

I was tempted to say it was empty or full of weeds, but Otis talked me out of it. So I just shrugged and moved on. Which I wished meant that Dr. Hemoglobin simply went back to his own garden and stopped trying to turn STINK into one.

Instead it got worse. He decided that in order for the garden idea to honestly work meant we need to really get excited about it. That meant he wanted us to start moving quicker and pretending we were really happy about the whole thing.

Now I ask you is it really something that makes sense when you get stuck holding some mop and pail and have to hop around while the whole time talking like you are growing flowers? I tell you about the only thing that what we had in common with a garden was how much fertilizer was being spread.

Only thing was we didn’t end up with any pretty flowers blooming. That didn’t keep our boss from seeing them. He keeps claiming that the air was full with the scent of toil blossoms from our seeds of sincerity. I know anytime he starts rambling like that whatever we are doing is something other than whatever he is talking about.

The good news I guess is that eventually Dr. Hemoglobin got over his interest in gardening. Which meant we also were able to stop messing with the mops and pales as much. And I was grateful for that.

My biggest fear right now is that I noticed he had this book on his desk about this big whale called Moby Dick. Otis says that in the story the guys chasing whale mostly got drowned. And I just hope he don’t want us to call a mop a harpoon!

Thought for the week: I never wish upon a falling star. Who expects a wish to come true by trusting your luck in some accident prone actor?”