Preparing for winter

I found these almost industrial sized clippers in the basement this morning. I find all sorts of interesting things in the basement and this morning I found these clippers. They must be about 24 inches long, with wooden handles and about 8 inch long blades designed for cutting small branches off of shrubs and other small foliage. There are two large bushes that are beginning to grow a bit out of control in the front of our house, so it was happenstance that I happened to find these clippers. I put on a jacket because it is cold and I stepped out the front door, down the worn out stair case, over to the first bush and started clipping away at the over grown branches. "What the fuck are you doing?"

I looked around.

"Seriously, do you know what you are doing? Have you ever trimmed a bush before?"

"I have," I answered, "I worked as a landscaper in Southern California many years ago, I trimmed bushes often."

"Hah. Trimmed bushes in Southern California. That sounds like a title to a porn movie."

"Look, it's cold out here, I just need to hack some of this over grown shit off these bushes and get back inside."

"See, you don't hack at a living thing you fucking moron. You have no clue what you're doing. Go back inside and Google "bush care," and skip the first page because those are all porn links."

"OK, but I'm coming back and I'm going to cut a lot of the excess branches."

"This is a negotiation."

"Whatever." I walked into the warm house, set the clippers on the floor, poured a cup of coffee and Googled bush care. One of the first listings was tips on care of shrubs and bushes. I clicked and it had some very helpful tips on proper trimming techniques for the bush that was overgrowing in my very own front yard. Plus, it was a bush that was kind of back talking me with an attitude. A talking bush, with an attitude. That was even hard for me to accept.

I put a cap on, my jacket, grabbed the clippers and walked outside with purpose. I stepped back to the original bush and started clipping, furiously, taking branches down to the core. The voice, I could hear was yammering, but my clipping was snapping small branches with such belligerence that all I could hear was some sort of white noise. Then again, I am a weak man and I could only keep up the pace for about 20 seconds and I began to slow. Soon enough I could hear the voice, it became very clear.

"What the fuck do you think you are doing? You're a fat idiot in a cheap, badly made parka. Get the fuck outta here. Right now, you get your cheap shoe wearing ass right outta here, right now. You have no clue, now what are you doing with those clippers? Hey now, look here, what the fuck? Hey, you get those mother fucking...Ouch, hey! Stop that right now. My lord, what the hell are you doing with those god danmed clippers? Do you have any idea what you are doing? I swear to god, you are the stupidest human I have ever seen, and let me tell you, I have seen some stupid mother fucking human beings. Will you please, with you please - stop that, oh wait, right there, yeah, do that, yes, right there, what is that, some old stuff? Yeah, right in there, yeah, get up in there, oh yeah, my lord, oh yeah, what is that you keep doing that, clip right up in there, oh momma. Yes. That would be good right there. Yeah."

There was one more cup of coffee in the pot, still hot. I sat at the small table in the kitchen, took a sip, it was some gourmet stuff I picked up at Whole Foods last week. I was just trying to figure out the meaning of the New Yorker cartoon when a wind blew one of the bushes shorn branches right up over the porch and into one of the front windows, breaking the glass, leaving shards of broken mayhem all over the living room floor. Weird.