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Letter to someone unlikely to respond
Dear common brown grasshopper that I am calling Bill...
Bill. Do you mind if I call you that? I know you aren't able to answer, so we'll say yes, it's fine.
Bill.
How's death? Wait, let me back up in the narrative. I've seen you and your type hanging around my garden for a few days, now. (Is that species-ist of me? The "your type?") And I thought, you know? I have quite the bounty in my garden, I do. I like it that way. Little extra for the rabbits to nibble on and life's a bowl of cherries. I even have a plant that I despise because tomato hornworms LOVE it and they turn into Sphinx moths, and they're gorgeous. So, hey. Share and share alike, right?
And then comes along you bunch of assholes. In the span of two and one-half days you have almost completely defoliated my antique climbing rose. You bastards. Fortunately it's a spring and fall bloomer, so it has some time to heal. And as I was crouched down under the 20 foot long canes, cutting it back harshly, there you were, smirking at me with your beady little eyes.
And what did I do? I backed up. Slowly. Giving you space to move away, but no, you startled scuttling along a cane towards my face and I saw it before it came, I just knew you were going to jump onto my face and eat my sweet, sweet eye juices. ASSHOLE. And what did YOU get for your troubles?
I NINJA'D YOUR ASS WITH MY SHEARS LIKE KWAI CHANG CAINE THAT IS WHAT I DID! I full on grasshopper'd your ass and now you are dead, cut in two, an object lesson for your brethren. I stepped aside to let an ant lumber its way towards you, hoping it would do some circle of life shit to your corpse.
I hate everything you choose to be, you gluttonous capitalist pig.
Love and kisses,
Laura
PS - I now will roam the earth in search of justice from your kind. *pan flute, looks off in the distance*
I am seriously proud of myself here, not gonna pretend otherwise. THAT WAS SOME BRUCE LEE BID-NESS I DID. I need a macro of the kid in karate clothes that says, "Snatch a pebble, they said. I snatched their lives."
Bill. Do you mind if I call you that? I know you aren't able to answer, so we'll say yes, it's fine.
Bill.
How's death? Wait, let me back up in the narrative. I've seen you and your type hanging around my garden for a few days, now. (Is that species-ist of me? The "your type?") And I thought, you know? I have quite the bounty in my garden, I do. I like it that way. Little extra for the rabbits to nibble on and life's a bowl of cherries. I even have a plant that I despise because tomato hornworms LOVE it and they turn into Sphinx moths, and they're gorgeous. So, hey. Share and share alike, right?
And then comes along you bunch of assholes. In the span of two and one-half days you have almost completely defoliated my antique climbing rose. You bastards. Fortunately it's a spring and fall bloomer, so it has some time to heal. And as I was crouched down under the 20 foot long canes, cutting it back harshly, there you were, smirking at me with your beady little eyes.
And what did I do? I backed up. Slowly. Giving you space to move away, but no, you startled scuttling along a cane towards my face and I saw it before it came, I just knew you were going to jump onto my face and eat my sweet, sweet eye juices. ASSHOLE. And what did YOU get for your troubles?
I NINJA'D YOUR ASS WITH MY SHEARS LIKE KWAI CHANG CAINE THAT IS WHAT I DID! I full on grasshopper'd your ass and now you are dead, cut in two, an object lesson for your brethren. I stepped aside to let an ant lumber its way towards you, hoping it would do some circle of life shit to your corpse.
I hate everything you choose to be, you gluttonous capitalist pig.
Love and kisses,
Laura
PS - I now will roam the earth in search of justice from your kind. *pan flute, looks off in the distance*
I am seriously proud of myself here, not gonna pretend otherwise. THAT WAS SOME BRUCE LEE BID-NESS I DID. I need a macro of the kid in karate clothes that says, "Snatch a pebble, they said. I snatched their lives."
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THERE MAY HAVE BEEN. Or I may have been all cool and chill like a boss
but that last one didn't happen.I HATE THEM SO FUCKING MUCH.
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And in conclusion: they are fuckers. Amen.
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Altho giant mantises would be fucking rad.
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Giant spiders with stabby legs and grasshoppers ARE NOT ALLOWED.
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Grasshoppers VOMIT on you when they're mad. True story.
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*sobs and cries*
*makes you wash your hands in bleach*
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And gross. BUT MOSTLY THE BAD ASS PART.
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*sings "Mama Loved the Roses" ala Elvis in honor of fallen blooms*
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THEY ARE EVERYWHERE AND I HATE THEM SO MUCH. *cries*
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You are the ninja queen!
I'll send you my crack chicken squad. There is not a single cricket, grasshopper, slug, snail or caterpillar in my garden since I let them roam around, and their favourite food is weeds. Although they would also eat those moths you like so much, and demolish your lettuces.
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Of course, I long for chickens. I'd never have to deal with this in the first place! (Damn my OCD and inability to deal with random people in my garden in the first place!)
(And no lettuces! I was drawing the rabbits to their deaths, what with me and my rabbit-killing kitties and all.)
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BUT YES. FEAR MY NINJA PROWESSES! (Also, I posted a recipe for a not-quite-black-forest-cake that only you three would truly appreciate with your educated palates. <3)
HELLO DEAR! It's been a while! :D *shoves a cheese board your wa*
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....although I am now envisioning a series of "letters" where you and Bill correspond....
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All God's creatures got a right to live. But not in my house.
I think it needs the addendum: And not if they're eating my garden.
(Also, the grasshoppers look at this icon, think of you, and cry.)
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I hate them so, so much. They're just DREADFULLY HORRID BEASTS.
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That's what I love about this letter.
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LOL!
I haven't had any grasshopper problems, but I do enjoy squishing all those nasty little aphid buggers infesting my roses. I get 'em between my thumb and my fingers, and squeeze the life right out of 'em. And I am not going to apologize for it!
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