Welcome to our regular Saturday feature “What Aggravates Me”

By Comedian John Knight

It was getting out of hand. I couldn’t keep up. Every year around this time it’s a nuisance, but this year seemed worse. I would cut the grass, then it would rain for two days straight and the grass would need cut again. I wasn’t going to be able to maintain this kind of pace.

My friend Mike from High School used to talk about the guy that lived across from him that cut his grass every day, year round. Then they would take him away for a while. Once he got home it would be right back to mowing every day until once again he was institutionalized. I didn’t want the neighborhood kids referring to me as the crazy neighbor…Ok, maybe it’s too late for that, but no need to add to the legend.

Something had to be done. I was reading an article about a new local restaurant when I came across a term you see a lot these days, grass-fed beef. The beef tastes better when it eats grass. I have a lot of grass for the beef to eat to make it tastier. I decided to get a cow.

Since the grass usually grows at a slower pace once it gets to be June, I really only needed the heifer for a few months. I was looking at the prices on “Rent a Cow” when it dawned on me. If it was fed by my grass for a few months and I turned it in, somebody else would get to eat my lawnmower.

I rented a horse trailer and drove out to the place where I could purchase a cow.

“I want a fat one that likes to eat a lot of grass.”

“Where’s your farm?”

“I don’t have a farm, it’s a residence.”

“You have a barn at your residence?”

“No, I figure we’ll just use part of the garage.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

What’s it to this guy? Since I’m buying it, I can decide where it sleeps. It was more expensive than renting, but I’ll make it back in meat money.

When I got home with “Toro”…that was my original name. Seemed appropriate. Plus, isn’t that what the bullfighters say to entice the bull? Now it all made sense. They’re trying to piss off the bull by telling him he’s nothing but a glorified lawnmower.

“Toro, Toro.”

Anyway, when I arrived at home, my wife told me this was probably the dumbest idea I had ever come up with. I was ready to contradict her, when I realized there was no way to come out of that argument looking good.

She also didn’t like the name Toro, so my lawnmower is now called, “Moo-reen.”

Everything went well the first day of grazing. That was until the next morning when my wife went into the garage to leave for work.

“John!”

By the tone of her voice I could tell she wasn’t calling me because she forgot to kiss me goodbye.

When I entered the garage, it was like a smack in the face. Let’s just say things were a little ripe. The inside of my garage smells like “Lancaster County.” Not only that, but I didn’t think the cow ate that much grass.

I promised my wife I would come up with a solution. So now, every evening, when the other neighbors are walking their dogs, I’m out with “Moo-reen.” They have their little scoopers and baggie, I have a shovel and a 30 gallon Hefty.

Most of the other dogs are intimidated by “Moo-reen,” but one little guy tried hard to get really friendly with her. Yeah, the neighbors don’t speak to me and look at me like I’m deranged, but I’m used to that. Cow, no cow, nothing’s changed

The neighborhood children, on the other hand, have really grown attached to my lawnmower. They like to pet her and feed her grass. I have to tell them,

“Not, too much. I only have one bag.”

So, aside from the stench in the garage, my grass cutting problem is solved for now. Not to mention how good my lawnmower is going to taste on the grill come July. I may have the neighborhood kids over for some “Moo-reen” burgers.

Follow John on Twitter @jknight841

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