Dig! Post! Share!
I'll start. This isn't necessarily my favorite, but it's one of my own, so I'm partial:
Day 2, SW III. Poor Dan H gets it.
On Day 2, the garden reacts to the crisis.
They hold a town-hall meeting and deliberate on the matter. The meeting is boisterous. Many of the garden-dwellers only want to yell about healthcare reform. Others are distracted by the garden WOOT! OFF. Eventually, however, they decide that they have to find a slug. They decide on Dan H. Some claim he is being erratic. Some claim he's not being himself. Some claim he's suffering from an invisible bald spot. No matter. He is chained and led out to the small hillock beside the Garden Civic Center.
A self-important, self-appointed spokesman for the garden stands up to address the crowd and, particularly, Dan H.
"Harumph! Harumph!" the spokesman bellows. "Whereas you have been found guilty of slugginess by reason of ... Well, anyway, you've been found guilty! Ladies and Gentlemen, I tell you now that in the long and storied course of garden history, never have I witnessed a transgression so foul! When I was just a wee garden-dweller, my sainted mother told me to always remember two things: Don't ever suffer a slug to live, and always make sure you stay regular in your bowels! And so, dear friends, when I've found that I can't properly execute a bowel movement, I always find that the best thing to do is just to take a little something with plenty of fiber to settle my stomach. You know, folks, I'd like to take this opportunity to say that it's funny how something so simple as a bit of ..."
"BLAH BLAH RHUBARB RHUBARB YARR YARR!!!" roars the crowd.
"Well," the spokesman says mildly, "I was only trying to help my fellow garden-dwellers who might be in the throws of ..."
"YAAARRRRRRRR!!!!" The crowd surges forward and wrestles Dan H to the ground. Bags of salt are brought up and forced down his throat and into other bodily orifices. He writhes and gurgles. The last discernible words from him are "I regret that I have but one life to ..." before someone steps on his throat. His body is wretched in death. But nothing else happens. The garden realizes that Dan H was just a regular garden-dweller.
In death, however, the natural processes occur, and all control over the bowels is lost. A nasty flood coats the feet of the salters. "Well," says the spokesman, "that's something, anyway."
(BTW, whoever started using the spoiler tag in write-ups was brilliant. It heightens the tension and encourages folk to actually read the carefully-crafted narrative instead of just looking for colors.)