This is Sweaty Bill. Once a proud lawn ornament, Bill dreamed of bigger things — shade, maybe even a porch gig. Instead, he’s stuck in the sun, melting away day after day while plastic flamingos laugh behind his back. His sweat isn’t water, it’s hope leaving the body. Bill doesn’t garden anymore. He just hydrates the dirt with what’s left of his willpower.
Some say if you listen closely, you can hear him whisper, “At least the tomatoes love me.”