Well, maybe not Royale. Maybe just Battle with Cheese.
This all started because Emphysema Joe wouldn’t share with Phil.
That’s a photo from last year, when Emphysema Joe came home. He’s been watching over his green for a while, and I suspect him of dealing to the entire neighborhood. He takes care of the plants, though, so despite his…business…dealings and his habit of pranking Norbert I’m glad to have him around. He’s also a brake on some of George’s wilder plans, which I would never have believed when he arrived.
Anyway. So Phil found out he didn’t have to go on jaunts to the front yard to harvest the Japanese bloodgrass (long story) when I first planted the lavender, and then Joe arrived. Things were fine until the one hard freeze we had last winter, when Phil couldn’t get down the deck stairs and Willard got a little troublesome. Normally he listens to Phil, who is pretty much the only person who can make him behave other than Miranda. Fred and George were off on their Big Adventure to find out about the last tenants of their mysteriously unoccupied house, so I wasn’t warned of the trouble until Norbert started screeching a Bigtime Alert and I found Phil trying to rappel off the deck.
Good times. I took Phil down the steps to visit Joe while Willard calmed down and got used to his cage (again), and we had what I thought was a nice little chat, but Phil made an observation Joe didn’t really care for when they were discussing something about Cuba and 50s geopolitics. (I may have only been listening with half an ear.) That’s when I found out why Phil pursued the greens so assiduously.
Because Joe began restricting the supply after that, and without the green, you see, Phil turns into a bit of an asshole. I would never have believed a mild-mannered formerly-perpetually-stoned garden gnome could be such a douchebag; he started sealioning every time I took the dogs out, mostly about Nikita Kruschev. (I don’t know, man. Seriously, I have no idea.) That was bad enough, but then he began trying it on Miranda, who got as close as I’ve ever seen her to smiting someone after about a month of perpetual bothering. I finally brokered a peace by getting Joe and Phil to agree Che Guevara was a true revolutionary (you have no idea how difficult THAT was, either) and things were calm for a while.
Except unbeknownst to me, against my advice and my strict orders, Joe had decided to ration Phil again. I’m pretty confident he had no idea where it would end up, but I’ve still scolded him roundly.
Because this happened.
This, ladies and gentlemen, is a crime scene. What happened? Well, I’ll tell you when I come back.
TO BE CONTINUED…