The Complaint Garden

The sweltering summer heat has silenced even the most vocal and dedicated complainers. But Mr. Zoro still comes every day at 2 p.m. to the complaint garden. He spreads a towel on the bench, sits down, and drinks his green juice. He closes his eyes for a moment, remembering his list of complaints.

He fans himself with a paper fan and starts off: “Black cat crossed my path again… why don’t they keep those things in zoos. I tried not to look at it and tripped over a stone… Rascal! Nothing went right after that. …Mrs. XiXi splashed water on me, and her good-for-nothing husband blamed me for his wife’s senility. At the fruit market I picked up a watermelon, but someone stole my wallet…”

He omits that he found his wallet at home. That Mrs. XiXi was watering her plants, and he walked into her garden to quarrel with her husband over a chess game he had lost twenty years ago. And that the black cat had not been anywhere near him.

There is not much to complain about in Mr. Zoro’s quiet life. But the complaint garden makes him feel someone is listening to him. So, he keeps making up complaints and coming to the garden, where trees stand just to listen to complainers.

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