It is very dark out in the long grass and autumn weeds behind the house,
except for the light from the single 1947 John Deere tractor headlight
that still works, the left one.  It has been torqued around with a pair
of vise-grips to point at the ground.
 
The weak and flickering light illuminates a hole dug deep into the
ground with the rusty green bucket.  The flickering coincides with the
alternating chug-chug-chug of the two massive cylinders.
 
A weasel stands at the edge of the raw earth, and drops half a dozen
sheets of computer paper into the hole one by one.  It is Switch the
Kit.  Her little ears are hitched back in anger.  Her whiskers quiver
in distaste.
 
She puts a paw up to her mouth and yells up at the tractor "Is it in
neutral?!"
 
A thin "Heeee!" is the reply.
 
"Brakes are set on both wheels?!"
 
Again, "Heeee!"
 
"All right, it's ready for you now Lily."
 
Lily, a small dark figure slithers around the gearshift and drops several
feet to the ground.  She trots to the edge of the hole and turns around,
and backs up.  She raises her tail, and lets loose with an editorial
comment that pretty much sums up her disgust with the general tone of
the last few FML's.  Switch feels just the same, but it was Lily who had
to go.
 
Alexandra in Massachusetts,
Grumbling.
[Posted in FML issue 4311]