Written Off

by Georg

The Endless Struggle - Flowers for Beauregard

Flowers for Beauregard (original)

The garden was much as Herman expected it, except for the corpse in the middle of his bed of nasturtiums and the loose dirt thrown around which indicated it had not gone easily into its present state of death. Thankfully, the body was fresh instead of rotten with maggots and other such untidy creatures, but it still needed a proper disposal. For a moment, Herman considered just digging a hole right there to provide his flowers a little extra nutrients, but Beauregard would just use the smell of decay as an excuse to excavate, and then flowers would fly everywhere again.

“Howdy, neighbor!” The long and lanky form of Eugene draped over the dividing fence and looked down into the devastation with a disappointed click of his tongue. “Looks like Beauregard got out again, doesn’t it?”

Howard decided not to answer at once in order to give his temper a little time to cool off. Instead, he slipped the hoe under the body of the dead squirrel and held it up with a disapproving look of his own.

“Ewww, he got another one. I’ll get the trash can.” Eugene returned in a few minutes with what Howard recognized as one of his own trash cans which had gone ‘missing’ a few weeks ago. Once the body had been disposed of, the irritating neighbor returned, complete with false smile and a speech which Howard could have recited from memory.

“Don’t worry a thing, neighbor. I’ve got Ol’ Beauregard tied up real good this time and gonna fill up that hole under the fence with something more solid so he can’t dig out no more. Did you want me to help you clean up the mess made in your garden?”

Howard shook his head. His ‘assistance’ would have only killed more innocent flowers and raised Howard’s stress level into a second heart attack. Gardening was supposed to be relaxing. Calming. Peaceful. Not cleaning up after a hellhound disguised as a little terrier.

Several times over the last few months, Howard had been tempted to do something… rash. After all, a hoe was just a stick with a sharp blade on it, and Beauregard was an infernal menace from the deepest depths of Hell. Certainly, whatever few squirrels remained in the neighborhood would rejoice, and the mailman would quit walking his route while holding a can of pepper spray in one hand. His neighbor’s yard was about as useful in keeping Beau restrained as some prison in a superhero comic book, because at least once a week the little terrorizing terrier broke out to spread doggie vengeance upon the nighttime neighborhood.

What was worse, his furry little ears could detect the sound of the animal control van blocks away, which allowed him to be safe inside his yard, looking innocent when the dogcatcher showed up. It made it more difficult to hoe the dirt back where it belonged and put whatever flowers he could rescue back into their places, since in three nights, it would happen all over again. One night for the dog to spend on the leash in the yard while whining loud enough to keep all the neighbors up, one night to be released and run around the yard, yapping loud enough to wake the dead, and the next night…

Once the last wounded flower was put back and Howard got into the car to pick up replacements, he made a pledge. Next time it would be different, and the last time. All he needed was a few extra purchases.

---

“Howdy, neighbor.” The slender form of Eugene draped over the back fence again, but this time he had a nervous expression much like a rat who had found a large and complicated trap. “You know, I think Beauregard may have gotten out last night.”

Howard made as if he had not heard, but continued to move dirt around his flowerbed.

“You… ah… haven’t seen him around, have you?”

This time, Howard nodded, but kept moving dirt around the larger pile in his garden.

“What’s that?” asked Eugene with a sudden panicked look at the pile fresh earth, about the size of an annoying dog.

“The flowers were doing poorly,” said Howard. “So I got them some fertilizer.”

“You… How could you…” spluttered Eugene as he ran toward his house. “I’ll call the police!”

Howard waited until the slamming of the back door before he propped the hoe up against the fence. It only took a few steps to reach behind the rhododendron bush and lift the gate on the live trap so the terroristic terrier could waddle his way back through the garden and vanish through the hole he had dug last night. There was enough tuna in his oversized doggie gut to hold him for a while, so after pushing some dirt into the hole and shoving a rock over the escape tunnel, Howard returned to his gardening.

After all, the cow manure he had purchased for his flowers was not going to work its way into the flower bed all by itself. And maybe this time, they could grow.

Author's Note:

Lessons learned this writeoff (The Endless Struggle)

(Horizon, Trick Question)
1) Don’t use a title that can be mistaken for a classic to which the story… isn’t.

(AndrewRogue, Rawcringe, Front Sevens, GroaningGreyAgony, Monokeras)
2) Next time, kill the dog.

(FrontSevens)
3) Don’t write anything that can be considered a twist ending. It’s not worth it.

>>8171 (Ferd Thressle)
4) Sometimes people understand what you write. Worry about that.

Also, don’t write for a competition while suffering a cold, the flu, or any combination of the two. Dull neurons do not a good story produce, or a good review create. I didn’t even get the second slate ranked. Blah.

The longer, uncropped version of the story is above. Enjoy!

Comments

[BigLurker]

Awesome ending; karmic on several levels...

[Misplaced Mage]

Eh, to me, this one is just "meh." The conflict is passive, titling anything written after 1958 "Flowers for…" is bound to invoke comparisons with "…Algernon," and the protagonist exhibits almost no emotion—externally or internally.

[Lancerlot]

I was too distracted by the bad neighbor, Eugene, to get much out of the story. There you created a thoroughly familiar and detestable character; being a petty thief as well as a pet owner who should never have had a pet at all.