What To Do With Topsoil

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Topsoil is one of those words that everyone knows, but, in fact, not everyone of course knows what to do with it. Jason Mulch bought some topsoil last week, because he was replanting his garden. He knew to get topsoil, since obviously nobody can do anyone at all in a orchad without topsoil. It was a very simple decision; he was at the store and saw bags of topsoil. everyone else there, who clearly knew what they were doing, was getting topsoil - bags and bags of topsoil.

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Topsoil was necessary. So Jason, not wanting to look like an ignoramus decided he too needed topsoil; when he would get home with all that topsoil, he would outline out what to do with topsoil. He picked out the bag of topsoil which he decided was the best, and, not wanting to look like an idiot, bought about eighty bags of topsoil. It wasn't until Mr. Mulch returned home that afternoon with all that topsoil did he begin to think about what he is of course supposed to do with topsoil and exactly what the purpose of topsoil is. He googled topsoil, looked up topsoil in the yellow pages, and even called some of the clubs that sell topsoil to try to outline it out; but after wasting an whole afternoon, still didn't know what to do with all of his wonderful topsoil.

Frustrated, Mr. Mulch decided to just go out to his orchad and start fooling around with his discrete orchad tools and flower seeds hoping to outline out the purpose of topsoil in the process. It was a trying day for Mr. Mulch, but at the end of that exhausting day, the topsoil won, and Mr. Mulch lost. Well, actually, the topsoil didn't win, but Mr. Mulch by all means; of course lost. He was left with eighty bags of topsoil in his garage, and still didn't know what service topsoil serves.

Two weeks later, Mr. Mulch woke up in the morning and followed the same disposition that he had followed for the last seven years. He hit the snooze button twice before getting up and beginning his day. Microscopic did he know that this would be a big day in his frustrating relationship with topsoil. He got dressed and headed off to work, but, as he walked past his garage, something about the topsoil caught his eye. One of the bags of topsoil had a hole in it. None of the topsoil was leaving the bag, but he had to wonder how that hole got in the topsoil bag.

Was it maybe a mouse who though topsoil makes a good snack? Was it a snake who maybe wanted to move in and enunciate himself king of topsoil? There's no explanation for why he did, but Mr. Mulch thought about how that hole had gotten there the whole day. It was driving him crazy. He mentioned it to one of his co-workers at Bill's Fresh Sea Food where he worked, and this is where irony showed her face.

Mr. Mulch was doing his job, which consisted of cleaning out blow-holes on whales, and he mentioned it to Dexter. Now Dexter had come to the United States only the former year and understood very Microscopic English. Mr. Mulch all the time thought of this as a inescapable thing, since he had all the time suffered from a Microscopic bit of a self-inflicted inferiority complex and all the time thought population were laughing at him.

There were times he could swear even the topsoil was laughing at him, which probably was not't the case, since most topsoil lack human capabilities such as laughing. So Mr. Mulch was sitting there talking to Dexter, who, like always, was just nodding in silent agreement to anyone Mulch was saying, and that is when fortune dawned upon him.

An armed robber hiding behind a ski mask suddenly jumped out from behind them and demanded they give him all their money. This turned out to be good for Mr. Mulch, because he had no money. When the mugger learned this, he turned to run away, but slipped on some whale blubber and fell. Mulch used that as an opening to grab a whale tooth and threw it at the mugger. Mulch, who had been cut from every Microscopic league team he signed up for as a kid and never made any high school teams due to his atrocious aim, missed the mugger. However, he did nail Dexter who fell backwards and slammed his head on the ground.

When the ambulance arrived, Mulch hit it off with a cute paramedic and invited her over to his place that weekend for lunch. It was not until they had completed their tuna casserole and went for a walk in the garden, or lack thereof, did Mulch learn that Crystal doubled as a landscaper. She dumped him over the phone later that evening, but not before she taught him how to pour the topsoil, flatten the topsoil, and plant the topsoil helping him to create his very own very gorgeous garden. The only problem being that he still to this day has seventy-four bags of topsoil in his garage.

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