Water On The Brain

This here’s Stretch Coyote talkin’ at ya.

This gal-derned California drought has gone done and impaired my lawn care business (Julio does the mowin’ and I do the blowin’.) what with people yankin’ out their grass and replacin’ it with rocks and dirt and other Death Valley style landscapin’. I have yet to figure out what kinda alternative service to offer my customers. I’d considered swimmin’ pool care, but folks are drainin’ them things too.

It’s as if we all woke up one mornin’ kinda like a bunch a’ Gregor Samsas, but rather than bein’ transformed into giant cockroaches, we’ve all turned into drought-tolerant, heat-seekin’ lizards.

Now I must confess the desert has a certain desolate beauty about it and I do have a bleached cow skull hangin’ in my guest bathroom, but galldangit we oughta be able to sport a bit of cool green grass for the grandkids to play on before global warmin’ makes everything charbroiled and crispy.

When I was a little bitty kid growin’ up in Texas we useta see pictures in magazines of Hollywood movie stars havin’ fancy cookouts on greener-than-green backyard lawns while playin’ croquet. Now that I am permanently relocated to California, livin’ within spittin’ distance of the Hollywoodlians, not far from the Pacific Ocean, which, dagnubit, is pretty damn big and holds more than a bucketful of water, I do feel kinda bad about whole neighborhoods plantin’ cactus and scrub.

Seems like my lawnmower may go the way of my typewriter, which is up in the attic collectin’ termites along with my taxidermied mongoose and cobra tableau. I just might hightail it back to Texas if it gets much drier here. I hear they’ve had plenty of rain there in some parts.




~ Stretch Illustration by John Sherffius
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