Gardens

There was a backyard behind the house, which could be entered out the kitchen door. The kitchen door was the back door. There were smooth cement steps painted a latex grey. Fonzie, the 20 year old dog, shat everywhere back there, so one had to be careful where to tread. There was a garage, painted a muted pastel green, almost a green-grey. In front of the garage, there lay a Flower Bed. That was where the flowers grew. Fonzie didn't even shit there. And in spite of the surety that one wouldn't step in shit in the Flower Bed, it was an unpardonable offense to "get into the Flower Bed."

Fuck if he knew why, but Joseph just tried not to, in spite of being accused regularly. One day, he and his uncle went to the stream and flipped over rocks and caught like 11 small crayfish and put them in a preserving jar with holes in the lid filled with stream water. They were much more interesting than sea monkeys, and they had weapons. The jar sat on the windowsill over the kitchen sink, through which the Flower Bed could and would be watched. Joseph was more interested in the jar, and sat at the kitchen table amazed that the little bastards lived in water. That was the mystery of fish and underwater life. They lived UNDER WATER!

Joseph ate some butter pecan ice cream. Then he went to bed.

In the morning, there were no longer 11 small crayfish, but one LARGE crayfish. They had integrated like Voltron. Crayfish not only lived in water, but they had the biological ability to combine into a larger form. This fucking mystified Joseph. He was so innocently overwhelmed that he stared at the jar for minutes as his uncle stared at him without saying anything. The results were obvious. The process he missed as he slept. Could he make it happen in the daytime? Could he stay up until they did it again if he went and collected more mini-crayfish, enough of them to make a mega-crayfish?

Joseph's uncle confirmed that crayfish were indeed special beings. A mystery, nature. A mystery.