Bob's Cutting

When mum and dad left yesterday, they gazed at the long grass in the haying paddock, and promised to return at haying time.

Today, we are woken by the noise of the tractor. Pete and I run to the window, and stick our noses to the glass in the same manner as Sabina awaiting Santa. Our neighbour, Bob, is cutting his top paddock. We're next!

I ring mum and dad to tell them the good news. We'll be making hay within the next three days. They're on standby.

Sure enough, after lunch, the tractor enters our paddock, and the grass tumbles down, as though struck by a sickle. But hey, if that's Bob on the tractor, then he's become much younger, and grown a cute little goatie. Oh, and who's that sexy babe in the yellow top riding the tractor with him?

Meanwhile, another tractor is flipping the hay in Bob's top paddock. The driver is sporting a pigtail, and a red singlet with spagetti straps. That's not Bob either.

Then we notice the red quad bike. Bob is standing next to it, arms crossed against his chest, at least 4 dogs yapping around him. He's busily supervising his "bevvy of beauties".

In the evening the phone grows hot. I call Bob, and he confirms he will bale us on Tuesday. Then I call mum and we speculate on the time.