It wasn’t that the sculptures were bad. Far from it, really. Visitors to the gardens remarked with awe and envy at the artistry of the carefully-pruned plants. Lord Trevor had had several offers for his gardener, in money, land, and… favors, to put it bluntly. He’d thus far resisted, but the plants were unnerving.
Trevor was taking a constitutional, somewhat nervously, when he came across the gardener, digging beside the topiary lion.
“Working already?” said Trevor.
“Got unruly last night,” the man grunted.
Trevor hesitated. He spotted what looked like a skull in the man’s hands. “Oh. Er. Carry on.”
Whimpers From My Bed Of Woe
1 day ago