This one is just an ode to the wonderful therapy of yard work. HA!

TEMPER: LOST

It should have been something monumental that made him lose his temper, like fire, flood, or famine. But it was finding the used (USED!) condom casually flipped over the fence by the neighbor’s sulky teenager that did it.

Jeff stared at the limp disgusting thing for five minutes forcing himself not to touch it. What he ached to do was snatch it up and take it next door and smash it into his neighbor Bill’s smug self-righteous face. He knew exactly what he’d have said too. “I saw your precious daughter screwing two boys in your boat yesterday and here’s the proof!”

Then again, maybe something less pointed would be better, like, “You may want to have your pastor speak to Lily about the proper disposal of her boyfriend’s condoms.” He liked that one. Jeff could just imagine the shock and consternation on Bill’s face as it dawned on him that his sweet young daughter was a tramp. Then again, that might be too vague, you had to spell things out to Bill – innuendo wasn’t his strong suit.

Pointedly ignoring the disgusting thing, Jeff made an effort to calm himself by finishing up the yard work he’d started earlier. His wife Melody had told him that morning, “This stupid law suit you are handling at work is making you crazy. You need to get outside, work in the yard, get some sun, get your mind off it.” She’d kissed him on the nose before she’d left for the library. And for a while, it had helped, just like she said.

He gathered his tools and rinsed the mud off each one, all the while running more scenarios through his mind of what he could say to Bill and his obnoxious daughter. A monarch butterfly flitted past his nose and he could hear the phone ringing inside the house.

Damn it! Damn it, damn it! He threw the rake as hard as he could out into the grass, it felt so good he followed that with the trowel, the pruning shears, the hoe, and all the swear words he couldn’t say in court. He waved his arms around and stomped and screamed for a good fifteen minutes.

Then he picked two twigs out of the trash, walked over to where the offensive condom still lay draped over a bush, picked it up with the twigs and deftly tossed it back into his neighbor’s yard. It landed neatly and clearly visibly right on the bow of the boat. He had to laugh.

Surveying his almost pristine back yard, he gathered up the flung tools, and stowed them in the shed. Jeff felt so much better he vowed that when Melody got home he’d have to tell her that she was right. Yard work was great therapy.