The annual lawnmower races are usually a lot of fun. Fun for everyone except the flowers…
It’s no secret around the Meadow that Ollie and the gang are a little rambunctious. Between ridiculous inventions, runaway contraptions and alien invasions there’s rarely a dull moment. Just ask the flowers.
The flowers are usually content to stay planted watching the calamities unfold from a safe distance. Sometimes they offer advice on fuel calculations and aerodynamics. It’s a little known fact that flowers are quite intelligent and have a sharp sense of humor. Also, they like helium balloons and polka dot sweaters.
Indeed, the flowers are happy to stay out of trouble until the trouble comes to them. It could be a rolling cloud of smoke, flying pepperoni slices or an uncontrolled popcorn explosion (for which a supply of little goggles and masks are stored in the gardening shed).
Then the flowers have to uproot themselves and run for cover.
Flowers don’t like uprooting and they don’t like running. They complain that other flowers in other meadows don’t have to scatter because of aberrant toboggans careening through the meadow in July. Most flowers just enjoy the sun and tell each other silly jokes.
The flowers had had enough.
They conferred in secret under the stars. It was time to give the meadow gang a dose of their own pizza toppings. It was time for their revenge.
The third annual Meadow Lawnmower Races took place recently. For the race Six or seven teams gather at the Meadow Mile, a circuitous course through the woods and fields, for a day of racing modified lawn mowers. They remove the blades, soup up the engines and paint them fancy colors. The only problem is the racers usually never stay on course which sends the flowers running.
This year, the races were different.
Early on race morning, the racers arrived and found their mowers missing. It didn’t take long to find them because a half dozen souped up racing mowers make a lot of noise. They were horrified to find the flowers holding their own race. Their professional machines were in the hands of a bunch of amateur perennials! They didn’t even know the flowers could drive.
Soon, Ticklebit was taking bets, Bearly There Bear was rooting for his car and Ollie was having a cow. They didn’t notice the flowers ran off the course and straight for them. The flowers chased the racers onto the track, into the fields and through the woods. There was never any real danger as the mowers don’t go all that fast.
When the flowers ran out of fuel, Ticklebit was in the hedges, Artemouse was in a tree with Spoon, the Bear Brothers, Clownley and Bearly There, were clinging to the side of a mower and Ollie webbed himself to a tree.
Satisfied with themselves, the flowers chuckled all the way back to their patch retelling the tale to their amusement while the racers, confused, tried to figure out what happened.
