It began Saturday. A day much like any day here at Rock HQ, one that started early with the critters waiting non too patiently for their breakfasts. As I returned from the "barn" having fed Hetty and the piglets I had a strange feeling like I was being watched. I fed the chickens whilst keeping a careful eye on my surroundings. Everything seemed in order, the Berners were playing in the lane, the cow was licking the goat clean and replacement Boris was keeping out of harms way. But still that uneasy feeling.
As I walked along the path past the pond I spotted it, a slight rustle of the bush gave it away. Lurking in the undergrowth was a mutant number two.
The waterworks at Rock HQ are to say the least arcane. Initially built in 1790 and added to until the final build in 1996 the pipework and drainage is more complicated than the Gordian Knot. Somehow it works. Mostly.
So for years, God knows how many, the number twos have gone down the pan and disappeared.
Deep in an underground cavern they joined together, mutated into a giant number two, a number two with ideas of revenge.
Its plot to take over the garden discovered when it reared its ugly head lifting the drain cover off and making a sudden break for freedom. Beating it with a stick only upset it and it released its foul stench which stopped all further prodding. Fearing the wrath of an angry number two I phoned for help, a man with a plan was needed, but he could not get here until today. So since then the garden has not been its usual safe haven. We have tried to carry on as normal armed with sticks but always under the watchful eye of the thing poking like a turtles head out of the manhole.
Steve the septic tank arrived today, or to give him his full name, Foul ole Steve, or Phew as most call him, and beat back the beast, captured it and took it away. He seemed unusually pleased when we thanked him for his efforts, his aroma entered the conservatory long before he did and he, and it, hovered around the front door as we tactfully tried to end the conversation and revive the Berners who had keeled over at the pong. He was keen to give us his life story, we were keen to stop the leaves falling off our plants, but like he said, its not often he gets to talk to his customers (cant think why) and this was such a nice spot we had its so nice to chat.
It is, and things got a lot better at 12.37 when Phew and the tamed number two drove off. Three hours later his aroma got bored and set off after him