Alvin Richardson

Sadly, I must report that I’m getting a divorce. It is an agonizing experience and one that I never imagined would happen. Unfortunately, there are irreconcilable differences that cannot be worked through and thus, we come to this most tragic of endings. Things just haven’t seemed the same lately, and though we have even tried counseling there is just nothing left to rebuild our relationship upon.

Yep, I can hardly believe it — my weed-eater and I are calling it quits.

We started dating 12 years ago, and it was a romance made in heaven. I proposed to her right after our first encounter in high brush. She made life so much better — easily cutting down weeds that had previously been too thick. Easy to get going too. Pull her string once and she’d cut up like a new pair of scissors. Stroke her choke and she’d purr like a kitten. And frugal too. Didn’t take much gas and oil for her to put in a full day’s work — and without a single complaint. And what a sparkplug she had. Always fired up on the first try. 

Man, those were the good old days. 

Lately, it has just gone steadily downhill. Maybe I worked her too hard this past summer and she’d just had enough. I know it was hot and dusty, but for the first time since we’d met, she became cranky. There were times when she wouldn’t even utter a sound. I took her to the doctor to get her checked out but all he could tell me was that she was getting old and some of her parts were getting worn out. Doc specifically mentioned that her crankshaft was rusty, her spool was spoiled, her filter had dry-rotted, her trigger wouldn’t pull, her valves were shot, her fuel tank was leaky and her throttle was broken beyond repair.

No wonder she was so out of sorts.

As soon as I got that medical report I quickly set about making sure that all those things were fixed but for the first time, my darling started costing me a significant amount of money. I cannot deny that it spurred some resentment on my part and possibly helped lead us toward a break-up. But at that point, I’d resolved to find a way to make things work.

Unfortunately by that time I believe that the damage had been done. I think some of it was psychological because neither of us trusted the other anymore. I soon began a flirtation with another weed-eater on the sly and she must have found out because things went from bad to worse and so now we have arrived at the point of no return. 

Thank goodness there were no children involved. They would have probably been ugly and skinny anyhow. Nonetheless, divorce can be a messy business and so of course the lawyers got involved. She’s hired Bicker and Bicker to do her dirty work and I went with Ditcher, Quick, and Hyde to protect my assets. I wanted to go the no-fault divorce route but she blamed me for overworking her and failing to maintain her properly. I couldn’t argue with that. There certainly were times when the workload was punishing, times when I didn’t grease here properly and at least one instance when I left her out in the rain so I’m in real trouble there. I’ve extended an olive branch by offering to start using high test gas and that expensive oil but she just looks at me with an icy stare.  

I then hit upon the idea of a quickie divorce in Reno to keep it out of the public eye — no need to air our dirty secrets in public — but she wouldn’t go for that plan either. She wanted the world to know that I’d been abusive so she could take me for everything I own. Ultimately it looks like the settlement is going to go her way. She’s going to get a cash amount equal to all the gas, oil and maintenance that would have been spent on her during a full lifetime of work plus of course, court costs. I’m going to get the shaft — the crankshaft — and that’s all.

I’m pretty bitter about the whole thing. Actually thinking about taking her sorry butt down to the junkyard and selling her for scrap metal. That ought to teach her a lesson. Let her see how the other half lives. Regrettably, however, she got a court order and I can’t come within 100 yards of her even if I promise to cut her workload. At this point, I’ve tried everything I know to do. 

Maybe I’ll just get a couple of weed-eating goats.


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