Attack of the Killer Tomatoes

I fear the unthinkable has happened.  My organic tomato garden has been violated.  It was left in the trusty care of the man who will one day co-parent our children.

I received the phone call last week while on vacation visiting my parents.  “Well, I think I have everything done.  I watered everything real good.  The tomato plants each got a whole bucket,” he said proudly.

A bucket!  “What bucket?” I ask.

“That blue one on the back porch," he replies.

No.  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.  You see, a couple months ago Chief received some old genuine Russian AK-47 ammo magazines in the mail. He got a really good deal on eBay, and I joked that it was probably because they came from Chernobyl.  They were a little corroded with God-only-knows-what sticky, greasy substance.   He thought the best thing to do would be to soak them.  In gasoline.  And yes, in my mop bucket.

He thought he would rinse it out when he was finished, and it would be good as new and I’d be none the wiser.  And he would’ve gotten away with it too, if it wasn’t for his meddling girlfriend.  I had to bear witness to the entire ordeal, from the moment when he stuck his latex-gloved hands into the gasoline substance and the gloves immediately dissolved to when he climbed in bed that night smelling of petroleum and Lever 2000, complaining of a sore throat (Duh!  Fumes!!!).  

And now my organically nurtured Early Girls and Better Boys have born the wrath of what was once in the bucket... and surely remains as a residue in the bucket.  I wonder if the squirrels were laughing at Chief when they saw him pouring the tainted water right into the Miracle Grow Organic Soil that nestles the tomato plant.  I wonder if the little rodents thought “Well if she doesn’t want to mop the floor with it, she surely doesn’t want to eat it!  He’s done it again!  Haha!”