My Lawn and Sco Mo

It was a normal Saturday morning. I had gotten up at 6am, as the usual Dad does, drank my coffee, and watched the news. My plan for the morning was to reseed the grass. It had been something that I had planned to do for the last few weekends, but something always came up: a BBQ with the mates, the kids’ sport, the rain. But the parrots were chirping, and seeing the state of the lawn made me wince. So, I went out the front and got to reseeding. My goal was to have the most pristine looking lawn in the street. I wanted better, greener, lusher grass than Jim who lived two houses down. I worked my ass off that morning, envisioning my lawn’s bright future as I chucked the seeds. Beads of sweat dripped down my neck as the morning sun started to heat up. Afterwards, I beamed at the lawn, satisfied with my job. I was about to get ready for a beer, I tell ya. 

Now it was around 11 and the kids were in the backyard kicking the footy around. I had just bragged to them about getting up at 6am and made it known that I had been up for hours doing the grass. Next time, I’ll wake them up and they can help Dad with the lawn. Ya gotta teach work ethic young. 

I was sitting on the couch with the missus watching Weekend Sunrise, and the kids had just kicked the footy over the neighbour’s fence (the one that doesn’t like footys being kicked over their fence). I hear my young fella getting pissed at his brother for having too big of a swing. That kid’s gonna be good on the footy field. Could play for the Roosters when he gets older, I reckon. He’s already signed up for the local club. That reminded me of the footy game this weekend. Was gonna be a good one.

They were just cutting to the celebrity bit of the show when the loo was calling my name. So I walked to the ensuite with my phone (Sports Bet was also calling my name). On the way to the throne, I caught a glimpse of a gathering that had formed out the front. The hair on my neck stood up. I couldn’t bloody believe it! I see a crowd of people on my lawn that I had just spent the morning reseeding. What a joke! Bloody inconsiderate if ya tell me. Standing on people’s front lawn is rude enough, but just after I had reseeded it! I could feel bloody steam coming out me ears.

The loo could wait. I marched out the front door and tried to calm the bloody hell down so I didn’t cause a scene, ‘cause I was fuming at this point. As I walked out onto the patio, I saw that it was a bloody press conference. These journos have no respect. And then I saw Sco Mo on the mic talking to the crowd. 

Come on mate, I thought to myself. Have some decency. 

“Can everyone get off the grass, please,” I requested in the calmest, most polite tone I could manage. 

“Sure, let’s just move back from there” replied the Prime Minister.

I had a couple of cameras pointed at me and suddenly wondered if there’d be a protest. They wouldn’t dare. They didn’t budge either and my face burned seeing their grubby shoes on my lawn.

“Come on… Hey guys, I’ve just reseeded that.” I threw my hands up in disbelief.

But suddenly I heard that voice of reason again, piercing through the crowd.

“Yes please, off the thing.” 

The authoritative voice of Sco Mo resonated through the crowd as they moved forward off of my grass and onto the road. 

Good riddance, I thought to myself. On a bloody Saturday.  

Once I saw that no foot was still planted on my lawn, I apologized to Sco Mo, made my way back inside, and went to the loo to check Sports Bet.