InsaneJournal

Current mood:

giddy

When You Got A Job To Do, You Gotta Do It Well.
The sun was well up but the grass was still wet as Q waded through the stuff, up almost to his knees in some spots, to the first of the hedges that surrounded the grounds of the spa. He had a list of things to be done that Ianto had given him in his pocket, but really he didn’t need it. You just had to look around. It hadn’t been all that long since the grounds had been tended to, but spring had been quite damp and the plants had taken advantage of the situation. Q had his work cut out for him. He gave a little snort at the observation. Cut indeed was what he’d be doing. He had decided to start with the hedges because he thought they’d be easiest and ‘well begun is half done’. He set down the clippers. He wouldn’t be using them, not unless he saw someone. The place was quiet, it was still early and Q wasn’t worried about anyone seeing him use his wand. He took a deep breath and aimed at the first hedge. He wanted the edge to be as straight as possible, not like the back of his head. He sighted and began to sing quietly:
Deep down in Louisiana close to New Orleans
Way back up in the woods among the evergreens
There stood a log cabin made of earth and wood
Where lived a country boy named Johnny B. Goode
Who never ever learned to read or write so well
But he could play the guitar just like a ringin' a bell

Soft blue light came out of his wand and twigs and leaves went flying. Q grinned and nodded, starting in on the chorus:
Go, go, go Johnny go go
go Johnny go go
go Johnny go go
go Johnny go go
Johnny B. Goode

With each 'go', Q moved further down the row of bushes, bits of leaves and bark sticking to his arms and face.

He used to carry his guitar in a gunny sack
Or sit beneath the tree by the railroad track
Oh an engineer could see him sitting in the shade
Strummin' to the rhythm that the drivers made
People passing by they would stop and say
Oh my but that little country boy could play
Go, go, go Johnny go go
go Johnny go go
go Johnny go go
go Johnny go go
Johnny B. Goode

Q glanced up from time to time to make sure his lines were straight. As far as he could tell they were. His face split with a huge grin, Q moved round to the next row of bushes. He was shouting now, rather than singing.
Go, go, go Johnny go go
go Johnny go go
go Johnny go go
go Johnny go go
Johnny B. Goode

Maybe this wouldn't take as long as he'd thought.