I Fought the Gopher...and I Won!

This is an excerpt from a novel I'm working on (yes, April is aspiring to a novel-length story) in which overlapping time/space is involved.  Why CAN'T some ghostly apparitions actually be images from a time blending momentarily into our own due to electromagnetic fluctuation?  That's my working theory anyway, even though I know nothing about the finer (or chunkier) points of quantum physics.  In this excerpt, Katie and Mick are accidentally transported from 2012 into 1922 and are squatting on the farm of their also-transported counterparts, Eva and Timothy (who are now fighting for survival in 2012 armed with nothing but 1922 knowledge).  Trust me, it's way more original than it sounds :-)

From the copyrighted original work by moi, Ghosts and Physics:

         The dishes were quickly washed, dried, and put away which left me plenty of cool-ish morning to spend in the garden.  I didn’t envy Mick’s indentured servitude in the hot Texas heat all day.  I’d have to see about making a gallon or five of iced tea for when he took breaks.  Tea now brewing on the stovetop, I searched the cabinets for something like a colander.  What I found was an actual colander which was even better. 

            Armed with my colander and a hoe I’d found leaning against the tool shed, I walked purposefully to the garden.  It would be useful for old-fashioned weed whacking as well as snake murdering.  Upon arrival at my wondrous patch of roughage-filled joy, I immediately noticed something amiss.  The weeds were still there, of course, but scattered around the garden in multiple places were little holes where plants used to be.  Potatoes in particular seem to have been targeted by a phantom subterranean veggie stealer.  What potatoes there still were I pulled up quickly, de-dirting them before placing them into the colander.  By the time I got to the carrots, whatever it was beneath the ground was just getting started on them.  Frozen to the spot where I knelt, I watched a carrot top sink inch…by inch…by inch into the ground until it disappeared.  “Friggin’ gopher.  There’s a friggin’ gopher in my garden!” I announced to the uncaring world.

            Incensed at the violation of my vegetation, I brandished my hoe and started hacking it into the ground.  When it came up all red and gooshy, I knew I’d hit my mark.  “Look, dude, I’m really sorry I had to do that, but it’s my garden, you know?  I’m a veggie person.  They make my taste buds dance and my bowels flow freely.  You don’t mess with a girl’s bowels.”  And then I felt guilty for hacking a furry member of the animal kingdom to death.  I soothed my conscience by reminding it that there were probably lots more down there anyway.

 “Yeah, the little babies of the mother gopher you just sliced into pieces!” my conscience replied.

             I was a bad person. 

With a sigh, I laid down the hoe and continued pulling what vegetables were ready to be harvested.  All in all, we still had plenty: summer and zucchini squash, cucumbers, several potatoes despite the depredation, onions, a couple of decent-sized carrots, a head of cabbage, green beans and two tomatoes that technically shouldn’t have been yanked just yet but I couldn’t resist in case the gopher’s ghost decided to haunt…and an actual head of pretty, fluttery, leafy lettuce!  My colander literally overfloweth-ed.

Gopher death fading from my thoughts, I trekked happily away from the garden and back toward the house.  While passing the tool shed, I noticed there were several tall, bushy dill plants dispersing their wonderful scent into my nostrils.  Surely the colander could handle a few sprigs of the herb, so I pulled and crammed as many as I could in between the vegetables.  Hypnotized by the aroma, I failed to notice another memorable aroma creeping in with the dill…until I heard the weird hissing sound.  Nearly dropping my load, I felt fur swish quickly across my leg then looked down just in time to see the retreating backside of a skunk.  “Oh bloody hell!” I yelled and turned to flee from what I knew was coming.

I didn’t make it.  The black and white beastie sprayed me full on, head to toe, veggies and all.  What was it with the animals around here?  How did they find me and why did they wish to destroy me?  Tears of frustration mixed with chemical irritation flooded down my cheeks as I dejectedly retreated to the back porch.  I stank.  Badly.  This dress would have to be tossed, and I very much feared that the veggies would too.  Immediately upon entering, I grabbed the water bucket and filled it over and over with water, dumping each bucket-ful into the bath tub.  I didn’t give a rip if it was heated or not.  It was already mid-morning and nearing 90 degrees.  I didn’t care if a visitor suddenly arrived and witnessed my full-blown nakedness.  Well, that wasn’t likely to happen.  Skunk smell would create an anti-interfering neighbor barrier around the property for hours. 

There was a box of Borax soap under the kitchen sink, so I decided to carefully utilize its ultra-cleaning power.  It would hurt like hades, but this smell had to go.  Mick would be back in a couple of hours for lunch, and now I had no idea if anything was even going to be edible.  Clothing removed, I eased myself into the cold spring water, wincing each inch of the descent.  Once my skin stopped screaming at me to stop, I reached for the soap and scrubbed away with the granular cleanser.  Oh, I was so going to regret this!  After five minutes of rubbing the crustiness into my skin, I sniffed a spot and thought some progress had been made.  Of course, two or three layers of skin had likely been removed along with the stench, but at least Mick wouldn’t pass out if I hugged him.  My hair was going to be more difficult, so I shampooed it several times hoping it would be enough.  For conditioner, I cracked a few eggs and rubbed the contents all over my “clean” hair.  It would have to do for now.

After donning a light cotton robe, I slid into some house shoes I’d found shoved into the back of Eva’s closet space then shuffled into the kitchen.  I’d set the colander full of what used to be a bunch of edible happy thoughts in the sink.  Slowly I leaned over to sniff them.  Oh dear.  This gave an entirely too literal meaning to the term “skunk cabbage.”  Determined to salvage what could be of my lunch plans, I began scrubbing away at each piece.  Maybe if I scrubbed everything thoroughly then peeled off the tainted outer layer, they’d still be okay. 

Two hours later when the big hand, little hand, and the sun were on the “twelve,” I heard the backdoor open then slam shut.  Mick stumbled into the kitchen and slumped down in his chair.  “If ever there was a time for Guinness, it’s now,” he whimpered. 

No matter how trying my morning had been—and it had been trying!—it was nothing compared to the hard work Mick had accomplished.  And he had a full afternoon of still more sweat-inducing travail.  “Want some tea?”

“Only if it’s laced with many ice cubes.”

“Is there any other way to drink it?”  I handed him a big glass of near to overflowing sweet tea which he proceeded to gulp down in seconds.  I refilled it then kissed his ear.

He smiled a tired smile.  “This and death may be the only situations that don’t end with sex.”

I laughed.  “Speaking of death, I killed a gopher in the garden today.  It had eaten nearly all of the potatoes and was just getting started on the carrots.”

“I’ll have to call the ASPCA on you now.”

“It doesn’t exist yet.”

“Oh, well in the case, kill as many as you can find especially if they start in on the potatoes again.”

Thankfully, washing and peeling off a layer of each veggie had removed all remnants of eau de skunk from our lunchables.  As a nod to his masculinity, I fried the potatoes instead of boiling them then made a huge salad with the rest of the produce.  “I hope you like fries with your salad,” I said, handing him the ketchup.

“Always,” was his muffled response.  He was already chomping away with impressive speed.  Poor baby, I hoped he wasn’t overdoing it out there, but what choice did we have?  Money had to be earned.

Mick paused between bites to indulge in a momentary frown of confusion.  “What’s that smell?”

I sighed, sat down, and dragged the entire bowl of remaining salad in front of me.  “A skunk sprayed me.”

“Animals don’t seem to like you much.”

“Tell me about it,” I said, crunching my teeth into the first bite of fresh greens.  All the animal animosity in the world was totally worth it as long as there was produce!  And Mick.  Watching how impressively he was adapting to life here, all hardship aside, made me practically worship the hard-packed dirt ground he now walked on.  I was so elated I could have even hugged the rooster, but he was dead along with the gopher.

Mick pushed his empty plate forward and poured a fourth glass of tea.  “That’s quality tea…not from concentrate.”

“Glad you like it.  I’ll bring another glass out to you in a couple of hours, but for now,” I said, handing him an aluminum lunch pail-type thing full of water, “take this.”

“The 1920s version of a thermos, huh?  Pretty cool!”  Then he kissed me and retreated toward the back door.  “I’m holding you to that iced tea break too!”