I observed an old man trying to set his sprinkler to water only the grass and not the driveway or the road. It was a struggle for all the times. The old man gleaned over the yard like Santiago looked on the Sea.
“Christ, I did not know he was so big.”
“I’ll kill him though,” [Santiago] said. “In all his greatness and his glory.”
There were years of struggles and successes with this lawn. None of the wars were as ferocious as the sprinkler war of 2009. I had struggled with the Man over a water bill and won. I stood my ground during the attack of the Water Management Jun Hord. Now, I must continue the fight against the master of illusion, the shah of subtle inconvenience, and the lord of frustration. The sprinkler, a Dramm Colorstorm oscillating sprinkler, yellow with eighteen water jets providing a uniform watering for maximum coverage. The adjustable plastic dial and tab allude you to direct the water stream, and a flow control knob at the base enables you to pretend to adjust the water flow. An included nozzle needle helps keep the brass nozzles clean. The sturdy metal construction will withstand years of use (abuse), and the bright yellow color will surely stand out in your lawn so your wife does not run over it with the lawn mower.
" As the sun rises, the marlin begins to circle. For hours the old man fights the circling fish for every inch of line, slowly pulling it in. He feels faint and dizzy and sees black spots before his eyes. The fish riots against the line, battering the boat with its spear"
Soon the sun will be overhead and the sprinkler begins to oscillate. I circle the beast and reel the hose line hoping for a safe pattern between the new avocado bush and the line of pineapples. The sprinkler fights back with a sputter and spins quickly on its tail spraying chilled water across my arched and aching torso.
The old man thinks that the fish is killing him, and admires him for it, saying, “I do not care who kills who.” Eventually, he pulls the fish onto its side by the boat and plunges his harpoon into it. The fish lurches out of the water, brilliantly and beautifully alive as it dies. When it falls back into the water, its blood stains the waves.
I vow one more attempt to reign champion over the aluminum behemoth. I will come in low and fast, circle left and flip the beast on his back rendering him harmless. With a small adjustment and a flick of the hose line, this messy work will be finished and dry all the same. I underestimated the Leviathan, he spat hard as I circled, up righting himself and sending his wet, cold daggers into my chest. The wound was complete, I was done in by a mechanical marvel from a box store.
With success slipping away, I would finish this fight. The nearby shovel would form a fine scepter. As the darts of water ravaged my body, I buried the scimitar into the metal beast. He thrashed in rebellion and moaned his mortal death. It is finished I thought. I changed my cloths, I would be late for the nine o'clock meeting. I had gone too far.
Again, Santiago wishes that he hadn’t killed the marlin. He apologizes to the dead marlin for having gone out so far, saying it did neither of them any good.
The sprinkler and its lifetime warranty are dead. I tried to fix it. It only oscillates about fifteen degrees to the left, and only twelve of the 18 jets seem to spray. One of them sprays rebelliously to the left. It now makes a lonesome sound like a lost failing whale, OOOuah, OOOuah, searching for the death he did not deserve. Winter cannot arrive soon enough.
“Christ, I did not know he was so big.”
“I’ll kill him though,” [Santiago] said. “In all his greatness and his glory.”
There were years of struggles and successes with this lawn. None of the wars were as ferocious as the sprinkler war of 2009. I had struggled with the Man over a water bill and won. I stood my ground during the attack of the Water Management Jun Hord. Now, I must continue the fight against the master of illusion, the shah of subtle inconvenience, and the lord of frustration. The sprinkler, a Dramm Colorstorm oscillating sprinkler, yellow with eighteen water jets providing a uniform watering for maximum coverage. The adjustable plastic dial and tab allude you to direct the water stream, and a flow control knob at the base enables you to pretend to adjust the water flow. An included nozzle needle helps keep the brass nozzles clean. The sturdy metal construction will withstand years of use (abuse), and the bright yellow color will surely stand out in your lawn so your wife does not run over it with the lawn mower.
" As the sun rises, the marlin begins to circle. For hours the old man fights the circling fish for every inch of line, slowly pulling it in. He feels faint and dizzy and sees black spots before his eyes. The fish riots against the line, battering the boat with its spear"
Soon the sun will be overhead and the sprinkler begins to oscillate. I circle the beast and reel the hose line hoping for a safe pattern between the new avocado bush and the line of pineapples. The sprinkler fights back with a sputter and spins quickly on its tail spraying chilled water across my arched and aching torso.
The old man thinks that the fish is killing him, and admires him for it, saying, “I do not care who kills who.” Eventually, he pulls the fish onto its side by the boat and plunges his harpoon into it. The fish lurches out of the water, brilliantly and beautifully alive as it dies. When it falls back into the water, its blood stains the waves.
I vow one more attempt to reign champion over the aluminum behemoth. I will come in low and fast, circle left and flip the beast on his back rendering him harmless. With a small adjustment and a flick of the hose line, this messy work will be finished and dry all the same. I underestimated the Leviathan, he spat hard as I circled, up righting himself and sending his wet, cold daggers into my chest. The wound was complete, I was done in by a mechanical marvel from a box store.
With success slipping away, I would finish this fight. The nearby shovel would form a fine scepter. As the darts of water ravaged my body, I buried the scimitar into the metal beast. He thrashed in rebellion and moaned his mortal death. It is finished I thought. I changed my cloths, I would be late for the nine o'clock meeting. I had gone too far.
Again, Santiago wishes that he hadn’t killed the marlin. He apologizes to the dead marlin for having gone out so far, saying it did neither of them any good.
The sprinkler and its lifetime warranty are dead. I tried to fix it. It only oscillates about fifteen degrees to the left, and only twelve of the 18 jets seem to spray. One of them sprays rebelliously to the left. It now makes a lonesome sound like a lost failing whale, OOOuah, OOOuah, searching for the death he did not deserve. Winter cannot arrive soon enough.
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