Gemotions

The audacity! That was the first thought that flashed through Malcolm’s mind. Old man Fitzwilliam, whose idea of exercise was changing channels on the remote, was standing there, gesturing wildly toward the sunniest patch of Malcolm's meticulously manicured lawn. He wanted to grow…*tomatoes*?

Malcolm's lips twitched as he fought the urge to explode with silent laughter. The man looked ready to faint from the exertion of merely standing. He envisioned Fitzwilliam attempting to navigate the complexities of compost.

He took a deep breath, picturing the ensuing disaster. "Well, Fitzwilliam," he said, a wide smile playing across his face, "This could be…interesting."