Sunday, 1 February 2009

The garden hose

I hate my life. If they aren’t jamming a sprinkler into my mouth, they’re jamming a tap into my um…other end. Then the water. The darned water. Not so bad in spring but so flippin’ hot in summer I go all soft and I swear I could almost feel my pores opening wide enough to leak. And winter! It’s been dry hasn’t it so blow me down if the buggers don’t fore ice through me middle. Hot cold hot cold they leave me lying around in the middle of the yard. Cats pee on me and dogs chew me and the kid next door almost cut me in half with the mower. Boy was that scary. I could just feel those blades whirring around in the dark recesses deadly fast and sharp as well, those blades. If I could have shuddered I would have. Lucky he saw me hidden in that jungle and coiled me so neatly over the tap. It was good for a while but you know I am beginning to feel my age. A bit brittle and I leak a bit I am embarrassed to admit. Oh and I am not as long as I used to be since that kid down the road cut a length off me to syphon petrol. Never thought my offspring would be involved in criminal activity but there you go. Can’t predict. The other small bit went to make a bong. I was disgusted to hear that. One of mine into drugs and me a law abiding hose. I tell you I just don’t know what the world is coming to. Anyway I hear tell they’re going to connect me up with that new piece with the attractive patterns. Bit of alright she is. I’m quite looking forward to this summer.

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