Andy is Getting Creepy
I walked out to my garden earlier today and noticed that my hot peppers have just taken off! I mean these buggers are really growing like crazy. Actually all of my plants are taking off. My seedlings sprouted like Jack’s magic beans. Unbelievable.
It must have something to do with that Mothman manure. The dung of the century, no joke. Andy let me have a wheelbarrow full, and he had enough left to spread in his small field. It’s a mini farm really. The old timer grows all sorts of stuff out there; peppers, peas, cabbage, cucumbers, carrots, radishes, rhubarb and assorted herbs here and there. He has some funny looking stuff way out in the back that he tends to pretty regularly.
When he’s back there I usually see some smoke drifting out from the weeds and smell something funny. When he comes out he walks back to his house, sits on the porch and starts drinking beer and eating nachos.
He’s got a major green thumb though, really impressive.
I finally asked him about the shovel in his trunk. Just seemed weird to me that an old dude would be driving around with a shovel in the trunk of his car. He’s a nice enough guy but you never know, could be one of those unassuming nice fellows who turn out to be serial killer or something. You can never be too safe.
He said he keeps it back there just in case he spots an interesting plant or tree growing on the side of the road. Says he’d stop, dig it up and bring it back home to plant in his yard. Could be true, he has a huge assortment of random growth out there.
Oh, and the report came back from the lab about the origin of the giant turd. What fell onto the street that night, the crap that’s fertilizing my garden and Andy’s mini farm, was a giant cow pie.
Obviously it wasn’t just the dung of one cow, but many cows, collected into a gargantuan poop load and dropped right there on the street.
The question is, what the hell did the poop pile drop from? Why was it collected? And why the hell was Mothman flapping around my woods that night? There is a real mystery here my friends, and I aim to solve it.
One more thing. Yesterday evening I happened to glance out my back window and saw Andy running with his shovel, brandishing it like a halberd, as if chasing someone from his property. I leaned in to the window pane to peer farther ahead of him but saw no one. He ran from view behind his shed, which lies just this side of his vast planting field.
Ten minutes later a note was slipped under my door. Two words on the paper as usual, but this time written by hand. The words? “Andy – Crate.” And in the lower right corner of that paper, a dirty thumbprint.
The mystery deepens.