Writing Prompt Response

The day was winding down. It had been a hot day, but not nearly one for the record books. No more than an hour ago the front yard of a small single family house had been assaulted from the efforts of a child's birthday party. The lawn had won when each child had returned home with grass stains on their bathing suits, much to their parents dismay. It had been a costly victory for the lawn, for it was not without its wounds; a slip and slide still lay surrounded by torn grass and mud.

Andrew looked on, in detached fashion. Maybe if I don't see it, I wont have to clean it up. He knew the obvious error in his logic, he was the parent and this was his house. Damn. Whatever happened to the whole respect your elders/ clean up after yourself thing. Sweat beaded and began to trickle down Andrew's face as he muttered to himself about responsibility. With a gruff hand, he picked up the hose fueling the slip and slide. The hose wrapped around him again and again as he fumbled with the various knots and tangles. A pull here and he found his wrists nearly bound and shackled. Great...my lawn is taking prisoners. Fed up with the process, Andrew grabbed the entire bunch of hose and made towards some of the bushes decorating his yard. It was difficult walking and he tripped more than once over the vast bulge. Growing closer to the breaking point, he hefted the knot above his head and threw it towards the bushes. Andrew put his hands in strong fists at his waist, proud to have made some progress in his chore.

With new found vigor he pointed the hose towards the plants and began watering them. Ahh, what a beautiful day! Andrew looked towards the sky, clouds like pillows of fluffy white whisked by towards the east.

"Andrew." A soft whisper.

He looked around, unsure from where he had heard his name. I must be getting old. There was no one around him. He convinced himself that it was just the water coming out of the hose. Sometimes your brain creates noises that it thinks the ear should be hearing, phantom voices or something like that. Andrew had taken those psychology classes in high school. Believing his story, he gingerly continued watering the plants, going down the line. Bulb flowers next to the tree, a flowering bush here, one after another he watered.

"Andrew." A slightly louder noise, a hushed speaking voice.

Again, he looked around, unsure from where he had almost certainly heard his name. Again though, there was no one was there. "Hello? Who is that? Is there anyone there?" He waited a slow second for a response. There was no noise save the sound of a bird chirping and the hose. Seconds passed in an agonizingly slow manner, eating away at Andrew's patience. "Is anyone there?" I will kill those kids if they're playing a prank, the things I do for them and they don't even realize... He shook his head in disappointment.

"Andrew!." The voice spoke again, this time the source was undeniable, the hose was talking to him. Andrew dropped the hose and lept back as if it were a poisonous snake. "Andrew... are you listening?"

"Ye...yes....?" He squeaked softly, choking on his words.

"Your fly is down."

Andrew looked down at his jean zipper and sure enough as the sun did rise, his fly was down. With a squinted and confused eye he stared at the hose. There was a silence, deep and long. Andrew spoke first. "Th...thanks?"

No answer ever came from the hose. None ever would.