Monday October 1st, 2012

The exercise:

Write about something that: spreads.

Mondays are long days around these parts, but very satisfying once all the harvested produce has gone off to good homes.

Probably going to spend most of tomorrow doing work around the house, and then in the evening I might actually make it out to my first meeting of the Osoyoos Photography Club.

But I've been meaning to do that for almost two years now, so we'll see.


One of our box program customers had been away for the previous three weeks, so they'd had one of their neighbours pick up and make use of their produce during that time.

The neighbours had been pleasantly surprised to learn of our operation, which was another reminder to us that advertising really doesn't work in this town. If people don't hear about something directly from someone they trust, that something doesn't exist.

Anyway, the neighbours seemed to be enjoying the fruits and veggies in their borrowed box and were generally impressed with what we're doing here. Last Monday they even seemed disappointed that our regular customers would be returning this week.

And I thought: this won't do at all.

So we offered to sign them up for the final three weeks (only two left now!) and they took us up on it. They're already talking about doing the whole season next year, as well as telling their other neighbours about it.

Slowly but surely, word is spreading about our little farm.


Anonymous said...

something that Spreads

Nigel looked up from his microscope. What he saw on the slide stained pink (indicating a Gram negative bacterium), was confirming his worst suspicions. Strings of pink micrococci were intertwined in a seething mass and, what was worse, these were anaerobes cultured after several days’ special incubation after having been isolated from various other groups of bacteria on the plate of agar agar gel to which the wound pus had been applied.
He checked the patient’s request sheet to see if anyone else had cultured the Neisseria from other specimens and yes, sure enough, the surgical drain line and a bone biopsy had also registered suspicious looking pink cocci that morning. 
This patient was septicemic. Every specimen was infected. The organism had spread throughout the body via the blood and, worse still, it had probably come from the deep surgical wound to start with. Nigel would have to ring the news through to the surgeon as soon as the computer confirmed the genetotype confirming the species. He would order a bacterial sweep of the O.R. too, in case other orthopedic patients were at risk. Anaerobes were rare in surgery, usually coming in from outside, unlike the usual golden Staph that were carried in on the skin regularly by patients and personnel alike, but drug resistance and increasing patient vulnerability meant that they could conceivably spread from one infected person to others if the O.R. sterility was at all compromised. The whole system would need an overhaul. The theatre technicians will be working overtime tonight checking that.
Nigel soon found out the patient had died and that O.R. was in lock down. This species of Neisseria could be a flesheater, and was developing a high level of resistance to known antibiotics. In a hospital setting that could spell disaster.
If it leaks to the Press panic could spread amongst the populace. The domino effect on the hospital could be detrimental. Nigel placed another call to H.R. The spin doctors will have to snap a lid on this right away.

Greg said...

@writebite: again, nice writing, it's good to have you back :)

@Marc: I don't think there'll be any spare time actually; I'm stealing this time between workshops while there's a lull! Sounds like word of mouth is, as always, the best advertising, though to an extent your produce is speaking for itself!

The host of the show grinned inanely, waved at the audience and turned to the contestant family. "Rught guys," he said,"For one thousand dollars, name something that spreads!"
The family huddled together while the music plunked out a countdown. After 30 seconds they broke apart and beamed at the host.
"Sewage!" said Dad.
"Cheese!" said Mum.
"Syphilis!" said the eldest girl.
"Her legs!" said her brother.
The host groaned and waved at the producer, who obligingly called "Cut!"
"Guys," said the host. "Seriously. You can't talk about food products on the show, that's unpaid-for advertising..."

Cathryn Leigh said...

There's life situation breeding into this. Not really anything horribly horrible, but My boss is leaving us for another company and my only other cowerker in the department will be going on Maternity leave soon....


The gloom it spreads about me,
Getting closer as I speak.
It’s coming to devour me,
Glittering, dark and sleek.

Why am I alone now,
Three have shrunk to one.
Responsibilities fall to me, how?
I feel I’ve come undone!

Marc said...

Writebite - fascinating stuff, very well written. I think you're getting on another roll!

Greg - aye, I suppose the produce is doing its fair share of talking as well.

Hahaha, fun take on the prompt. You managed to catch me off guard not once but twice :)

Cathryn - oh dear, I hope things sort themselves out quickly.

And at least you've been inspired to write a fine poem; I particularly liked the first stanza.

Anonymous said...

greg, thanks, good to be back on board,
marc, 'rollin', rollin', rollin', keep them doggies movin', rawhide!' she sang, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye (it's 1AM, i'm blaming the time)