You see these leaves right here? Boom. Now they’re over there. How did I do it, you’re saying. Am I a magician? No. But I did get a new leaf blower, and it’s the shit.
I used to hate fall. Now, fall is the shit. Every day I wake up at five a.m. and blow leaves. I strut up and down my lawn waving that sucker like it’s a big air penis and they’re just some dumb little leaves. “You’re not even alive,” I tell the leaves. “Corpses of your old selves.” BSSH!
The best part about blowing leaves when it’s dark out is you have no idea where they’re going. Complete autumnal chaos. Then later you come back outside and look around like, “Oh my God. These leaves are everywhere. Time to blow!” Then I strap on my leaf blower and go to town on some motherfucking leaves.
If you find me a pile of leaves, I will blow them. Blow them up. Blow them apart. Blow them all over the place. What I won’t do is blow leaves back together into a pile, ‘cause that’s not how a leaf blower works. But also because I fucking hate piles. A pile is the dumbest shape ever. It’s not even a shape.
When people in the 13th century were coming up with shape names, one of them just got lazy and was like, “I don’t know, Geoffrey, what would you call a circle plus a triangle plus a square? How ‘bout we call it a ‘pile.’ In fact, we can just call everything a pile. Those papers, a pile. That dog vomit, a pile. Those leaves in the park. You bet your ass they’re a pile. But not for long, because soon I’m gonna invent something to blow them over. And before we adjourn this meeting of the shape namers, I just want to say whoever voted to keep both parallelograms and rhombuses, I hate you. Those names are dumb and we should go back to calling them crooked squares.”
But I gotta say, owning a leaf blower makes me feel civilized as shit. It lets me participate in the American dream. No longer will I have to pick up a rake and wave it in the air blindly, hoping the leaves get raked. That, of course, is how my son, Bobby Junior, became Bobby One-Eyed Junior. Pretty sad. Now, if I see something I don’t like in my yard, like a bunch of stupid leaves, I just blow them into my neighbor’s yard. And if my neighbor complains like, “Did you just blow a bunch of leaves in my yard,” I’ll look him right in the face and say, “No.” Then I turn my leaf blower on him. BSSH! BSSH! BSSH! Idiot.
Leaf blowers are also the perfect tool for spreading American values. You get all the control with none of the blame. Like, there’s all this crap in my country that I don’t really want but I also think people should be willing to die to protect it. So guess what? BSSH! Now you got all that crap too. You can’t blame me for spreading the values. They uh, spread themselves, you know, through the wind. Yeah. Fucking wind. It’s the worst.
And my leaf blower doesn’t only blow leaves. I can use it for everything. Cooking Hot Pockets? BSSH! Washing the kids. BSSH! Sex with my wife? BSSH! BSSH! Sure, sometimes I wonder if she likes the leaf blower more than me. Once we were in bed and I think she whispered, “Show me who’s the leaf master.” But I don’t care. Wiping tears off my face? BSSH!
So you don’t have to say anything. I know you’re jealous. C’mon. You see me and my leaf blower sitting on the porch in our matching beanies, drinking beers, shooting the breeze like two best buds. I know exactly what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “Man. That leaf blower is the shit.” Well you’re right. Now get off my lawn. BSSH!
