Patented leaf control system. He was so funny, so arch. Here's what I did. I piled the leaves up against my fence until they rotted away. And, uh, that was it.
     'The leaf system, as you call it, is working well, I'd say.'
     'You know,' he said, 'piling them up against that fence might make the wood go rotten. Just a thought. We might have to watch that, you and I, because it's a shared boundary and if the fence goes rotten then we'll both end up paying.'
     I continued to clip the hedge.

The pony danced at the end of his rope and blew a whistling snort of comprehending fear. Givens puffed at his cigarette, but he reached leisurely for his pistol-belt, which lay on the grass, and twirled the cylinder of his weapon tentatively. A great gar plunged with a loud splash into the water hole. A little brown rabbit skipped around a bunch of catclaw and sat twitching his whiskers and looking humorously at Givens. The pony went on eating grass.
     It is well to be reasonably watchful when a Mexican lion sings soprano along the arroyos at sundown. The burden of his song may be that young calves and fat lambs are scarce, and that he has a carnivorous desire for your acquaintance.
     'You know, all those damp leaves packed up against the fence?'
     I pointed my shears at him. 'Do you know what that pile of leaves is, George? It's a universe, a small universe. Hedgehogs, beetles, ants, all kinds of creatures live in there. We are part of a web, George, a big web, even you play a part, even,' I nodded at his T shirt, ' REM. You either eat it, fight it, or fuck it, that's the food chain, and in the middle of that pile of leaves they are eating each other, fighting each other, and fucking each other and I'm not going to do anything to spoil their fun.'