The owner of Chavez Landscape
and Maintenance is Angus Chavez. He is
Scottish/Mexican-American. He is a very
thin man with a pot belly, on which is a tattoo of a taco. Soft shell, I believe. He has sparse red hair and a full red beard. He
wears a little green hat that has a ridge along the top.
"You are Chavez?" I asked,
meeting him yesterday afternoon. His Scottish brogue was at times too thick to
understand, at others almost nonexistent.
“Aye, my mother married me into the
business when I was but a wee lad,” he told me.
We discussed price. I told him
I wanted Jesus and 2 other men to takeover my gardening.
“I’d like to have Jesus live in the little
shed in my back yard. So he would be available to me in emergencies.”
Chavez looked at me and blinked.
“And why would he want to do that, miss,
when he be havin’ a perfectly good room at my place, with his friends?”
“Because I’ll pay him more.”
"(INDECIPHERABLE SCOTTISH
REPLY)"
"Because I'll pay him more."
“No,” he answered gruffly, “Pardon my
saying so, but that’s insane.”
It’s not really a shed. It’s a
playhouse: A little A-frame with an upstairs and a downstairs, both floors big
enough to comfortably sleep several illegal aliens and still have room for a
small television or chickens, once I move our bikes and ski equipment. He
could toilet in the bear habitat. It seemed perfect to me, but Angus remained
unconvinced. I finally said,
“Please just have the men here first thing
tomorrow morning for an extensive yard makeover.”
I called all my friends and told them to
invite their friends. I made fliers and put them on everyone’s door. I am
charging $5 a head to watch the shirtless Jesus trim my hedges and whack
weeds. I will serve wine in a box,
because that is the audience I’m catering to. I will make a small fortune and
so will Jesus. He will be installed in my back shed sooner or later because it
makes perfect sense. In fact, it’s magically delicious.
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