With Great Power, Comes Great Gardening

King Arthur had the mighty sword Excalibur, Thor had his powerful hammer Mjöllnir, and Elmer Fudd had his spear and magic helmet. All of these ordinary men were made great by the use of a powerful implement (Yes, I know Thor was supposedly a god in his own right. I’m trying to make a point here). A kingdom got its king, bad people were thwonked on the head, and finally… finally… that wascally wabbit got what was coming to him. All feats worthy of retelling over a mug of ale in Valhalla.

It is in this light that I would like to introduce myself. My name is Keith, and I am the wielder of the Evil Shovel of Cable Annihilation! Look upon me and despair! MUHAHAHA!

Ahem.

Once upon a time I was just this guy, you know? I worked, I played, I ate, I slept. I bought the t-shirt, several of them in fact. Except for my shiny head and devastating good looks, I was no different from any other man. But then everything changed.

It began on Memorial Day weekend while I was working in the yard. I was digging a three-inch trench to separate a flowerbed from the lawn. Sadly I overlooked the fact that the path of my trench intersected with that holy provider of Internet and television, the cable line. Without a thought I cut the wire cleanly with my shovel as I moved along. Little did I know, but the consequences were much greater than a few days disconnected from e-mail, Facebook, and Twitter.

What had once been an ordinary shovel was now something much, much greater. Unbeknownst to me what I thought was a simple gardening tool was now an instrument of evil. Something, perhaps a shock when it sliced through the cable, perhaps a radioactive earthworm, imbued it with a dark power.

I was blissfully unaware of this until last weekend. I had some planting to do in the back yard, so I had taken my trusty shovel off of the garage wall to get the job done. Did it quiver with excitement? I didn’t notice. Did it hum with anticipation? No clue, I had my earbuds in.

Since most of the plants were small I had used my trusty trowel to dig their holes, but for the one large plant I used my shovel. As it turned out that was all that was needed. I was almost done with my task when the wife came out to tell me that we had no internet or cable TV. For a second I just stared. It was horrible case of déjà vu from Memorial Day, and it felt so unfair. But this time I was nowhere near the cable I had cut before, I protested. I was waaaay in the back of our property. There were no cables there.

I walked over to the side of the house to make sure I hadn’t blacked out and walked over there like some sort of gardening zombie (Hydraaaaangeas!) to dig up the cable. As expected the ground there was undisturbed, but that did nothing to refute the fact that we had no electronic access to the outside world.

While the wife called the cable company, I picked up my tools. As I was putting them away, I felt a vibration from the shovel’s wooden handle. I pulled out my earbuds to hear a metallic chuckle and a faint “Again. Use me again…” Spooked, I hung it up on the wall as quickly as I could and left it there.

It turned out that as time passed the shovel’s power had grown, and instead of just taking out our cable it had affected an area miles-wide. Without even having to touch a wire it had sent its evil energies though the earth to sever internet access for hundreds of families. Children cried when they couldn't watch Blues Clues. Teen angst soared as they couldn't sing along to re-runs of Glee. I realized that I was the owner of an implement of unspeakable power (I can write about it, but speak? No.)

Am I now going to be one of the conflicted super-men, who doesn’t want to use his power but is unable to stop himself? Do I have enough fortitude to resist the temptation of the evil spade in my garage? I have no one to help me in this struggle. There are no support groups for owners of wicked gardening tools (Hi, my name is Keith and I’m an evil gardener).

If my success with resisting Chips Ahoy is any indication, I am going to dig again. It’s only a question of when. Will my shovel’s power have grown even greater? How many people will be affected? All of Michigan? North America? The world? Could I create a fail whale of global proportions just by digging a hole in my yard? I don’t know, and the questions haunt me, begging for answers.

So now you know my story, my super-gardener origin as it were. If you desire the services of me and my mighty shovel, you can find me at the local Home Depot. I’m thinking about buying a shrubbery.