INSANE CASH IN HAND GARDENER TALE

Published on 25 September 2024 at 01:34

I was sat at home in my little cubby hole office area, typing away at my laptop, when the front door went: “a-rat-a-tat-tat.” I looked up from the blog thing I was writing to see a white haired, scruffy looking STRANGER in shit stained jogging pants at my front door, a massive hold-all slung off his back.

“Hello,” I thought. “Some kind of Middlesborough chamois leather salesman? But elderly?”

Well, opened the front door to greet my guest. He was white haired, as I mentioned, but possessed a haunted look about his facial features, with a body language best described as flighty. The Stranger was equipped with just three upper teeth, with the remainder of his mouth taken up with a kind of greyish black armoured gum. Not dissimilar to a pike.

This was more or less the exchange:

ME: H-

STRANGER: Alright MAAAYYYYTE! Am just in the area sortin out shrubs and that. A can clear AAAALL this back and everything’. YOU’VE got some lovely Agaratghhgh bushes here an they’re gettin drooned oot by the tree there. OR DOES THAT MEAN NUTHIN TEE YEE?? A mean, y’cannit waaak past it withoot leanin, and ya ruuurrrze bush is awa hangin, so a kin sort it aaaaaaal oot forya an that like. The wife next door wasn’t hevin any of it. A said to her that the tree’s getting oot a hand but she wouldn’t even taaak tiv iz. But a kinsort aaaal this nee botha.

ME: Aye. Erm. How mu -

STRANGER: WHEY LERRIZ HEV A FUCKIN LOOK AT IT.

(The stranger then performed an elaborate prance from foot to foot, before touching a leaf on the bush next to my gate.)

STRANGER: Forty quid.

ME: Deal. Yeah, you c-

STRANGER: A’LL CRACK on ayyye!! Mind, the lass next door, she wouldn’t even taaak tiv iz. Diddenwannnaknaaaaaa.

ME: Good. Aye. Alright, I’ll get back to work. Just give us a sh-

STRANGER: HEV yee gotta brush? Or is that TOO MUCH to ask??

ME: Uuuugh… I. No. I don’t have like a garden brush or -

STRANGER: THAT’S ALREEET MAYYYTE! A’ll figgah sumthin ooot!

ME: Right. Well I’ll get back t-

STRANGER: MY NAME’S BILL, by the way!!

(He then gave me a look that I can only describe as “filled with hatred”.)

I closed the door, with a feeling of creeping apprehension that I’d made a serious mistake, and that my wife was going to kill me upon her return.

THE PLOT THICKENS

I returned to my station and wrote a few more words. After a while I looked up and watched the Stranger absolutely fucking butchering my assorted hedges with a set of clippers. ‘Fine,’ I thought. ‘It’s only £40 of my son’s birthday money down the swanny. Saves me doing it.’

More time passed, and I again crept to the window to check on The Stranger’s progress.

This time he was deep in conversation with the slow talking old lady from over the road. She was in the process of providing him with her sturdy garden brush, and was pointing at her own hedges. ‘Cheers Olwyn,’ I thought.

Time passed, and I consumed my pot noodle lunch. I looked up to witness The Stranger enjoying a can of coke, perched on my bin. All around him was the shattered remains of all my fucking bushes.

The thought struck me: “Hang on a minute. I’ve got zero bin space for all that…”

I popped outside to express this thought:

ME: Alright mate. I was just thinking, I don’t have a bin for any o-

STRANGER: HEV YOU NOT SEEN HOW MUCH AVE DUN???

Then he briefly stormed off, shaking his head.

ME: I… Jesus. Alright pal, I didn’t say anything. It’s fine, aye.

A beat.

The Stranger returned.

STRANGER: Oh a thought yee didn’t like it like.

ME: No, it’s fine. I was just wondering about all the rubb-

STRANGER: DIVEN’T WURRY ABOOT THAT. Ave gorra van an aal come back laytah.

ME: Okay.

STRANGER: Just leeev it there annalll come back laytah. Ah’ll pop sum cards through ya door so yiz can hire iz agen.

ME: I… Well. Aye. Maybe. Here, do you want your mon-

STRANGER: NARRRRRR! Yee keep that till am dun. Am a graftah me. Last o’ the fuckin graftaz. Here West Ham dun alreet last night or duz THAT mean nothin to ya?

ME: No, no. Well done them, aye.

STRANGER: Eh?

ME: It’s good for West Ham, yeah.

STRANGER: Aye! REEET let’s get this sorted for ya.

ME: Right. Aye. Okay. Well give us a knock when you want paying.

20 minutes passed before the door rattled again.

STRANGER: REEEEET that’s me dun. Miiiiiind it FUCKIN needed it like.

ME: Oh a-

STRANGER: It fuuuuuuckin needed it. HEV Y’SEEEN HOW MUCH AVE DUN???

ME: Uh huh.

STRANGER: A thought y’didn’t like it before then.

ME: No, no. It’s… Fine.

(It was a shambles, but I wanted rid)

ME: So, I’ve got your m-

STRANGER: HERE am not bein funny reet but am ABSOLUUUTLY BUSTIN. CANNA USYAH TOYLIT??? AM JUMPIN FROM FOOT T’FOOT HERE!

ME: T.. Oh. Aye. Yeah. Go for it, yeah.

(In he comes.)

STRANGER: AYE the doctah sez whenyiv gorra gan yiv gorra gan. Nee gud hurldin it inFUUCKIN HELL YOU’VE GORRA MASSIVE HOOOS! These hooziz are fuckin massive!

(I haven’t)

ME: Aye. It’s straight up the stairs there.

STRANGER: WHEREABOOTS??

ME: Directly in front of you.

STRANGER: WHEEERE? AAAAAAAAAAR THERE!

(Door slams. The sound of piss follows, alongside the sound of the Stranger going:

“UUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGHHHHH!”

There was no sound of any taps or soap being troubled.)

Anyway, down he comes. I offer him the £40 at long last… And, naturally, the Stranger shook my hand - transferring a billion piss germs in the process.

I possibly even looked at my hand in wonder.

STRANGER: AYYYE. Cheeee’az MAAAYYTE. Y’knaa, a lorriv peepil’ll not let y’use their toy lit! A wuz oot awa there doon the ruuurrrd deein the bush iz a the wife wazzn in. A was fuckin hoppin from foot t’foot needin t’gan… An…

(The Stranger paused for a second, and perhaps even looked a little sheepish.)

ME: A-

STRANGER: Will… A mebbies shuddn’t say like, but I had nee choice like. A wuz bustin sur ahad t’piss meesel.

ME: Really?

STRANGER: YEE would’ve dun the same like. Y’cannit hurld it in. Doctah sez.

ME: Well.. I don’t… I probably would’ve gone behind a tree or som-

STRANGER: Y’CANNIT MAN! If sum wife sees ya havin a piss the’ll hev the fuckin COPPAZ on yiz.

ME: Oh. Aye, I supp-

STRANGER: It wiz alreet thuuur coz ahad a spare pair o’ joggaz in me bag.

ME: Right. Yes.

(The Stranger finally exited my home.)

STRANGER: REET. Will. Aye, just leev alll that-

(He said, waving at the pile of debris on my lawn.)

ME: Oh yeah, you’re coming round la-

STRANGER: Laytah AYYYYE. A’ll pop me, IF YA HEAR YA DOOR FLAP GANNIN ITS ME LEEVIN YE ME CAAAARDS liiiike.

ME: Riiiight yeah. Okay. Thanks mate, yeah.

STRANGER: SEE Y’LAYTAH PAL!

(I then gladly closed the door not just on the Stranger, but on the entire experience that had occurred.)

Following these events, I immediately scrubbed my hands - as though about to perform surgery - then disinfected and bleached both the upstairs toilet and sink. That business concluded, I merrily sat back down to work.

Upon my wife’s return, she immediately questioned what the fuck had happened to the shrubs and the whole front of the house. She then accused me of being a fool.

EPILOGUE

Several hours later, the pile of hedge and bush debris remains on my front lawn, blissfully untouched.

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