Harold put down his deck chair, his book, his hat, his glasses and his milk shake and stared at the new deck he'd asked Devious to build. It was exactly what he'd asked for – close-fitting teak boards so he didn't have to see between the planks; potted seasonal flowers with a range of foliage plants to set them off; a waist-height rail he could lean on and a view of the lake and gardens. There was just a small problem.
"Devious," he shouted, his face puce with indignation. "What do you call this?"
"Decking, sir." The imp patted the construction proudly. "It took four of us to dig the Ark out of Mount Ararat and bury it this deep."