9.17.2005

Wuthering Heights and Withering Mites

The battle over the Hibiscus plant on my front porch continues.

Earlier in the week as I took my morning coffee on the front porch I was feeling quite pleased with myself. The only reminder of the previous weeks battle against the Republican mites were their dried shells falling from the branches of the triumphant Hibiscus. Her leaves were once again full and shiny and her blooms ready to burst open in victory.

"I can't believe this change in you, Miss Hibiscus. Just yesterday it seems, you were a harem-scarem child with dirty (mite covered) hands (foliage) and a willful heart. Look at you - oh you're lovely Miss Hibiscus."

I was so proud of myself and Miss Hibiscus in our defeating the filthy little pests who fought tirelessly to destroy her. The chemical assassination against the mites had worked! Not a single live bastard to be found. Then, as I am basking the glory of victory, came the menacing sound from deep within the branches of Miss Hibiscus. It was extremely deep pitched and like no sound I'd ever heard before, "Ku-chirp-click-click...Ku-chirp". Naturally I had to investigate. So I pull back her branches and the culprit was spotted immediately. It was a 2 1/2" Christian Right Grasshopper happily tearing away on Miss Hibiscus's leaves.

Those bastards! Just when I thought it was safe I find that the evil Republicans are still on a mission to destroy my quite Liberal and very lovely front porch. I suppose that the GOP mites had done all the damage they could do and on their last breath they call in back up forces to aid in their attacks against my Liberal Hibiscus. The relentless chemical assault I had killed them but they didn't die in vain. Enter the Christian Right Grasshopper.

Outraged I did what any peaceful Democrat would do - I grabbed my lighter and sat the little bastard on fire. He didn't go up in fames as I'd hoped but I did burn his back legs and he literally flew out of Miss Hibiscus quicker than you can say "Still not my President." He fell to the slate floor (I hope it hurt. Bad.) and I immediately took a can of Raid to his ass. "Take that you son-of-a-bitch!", I said. But did he die a slow and painful death in front of me? Hell no. He took flight again and headed across the front yard towards the street. The coward was gone in a split second.

Well, while consoling poor Miss Hibiscus with another dose of systemic pesticide I go to thinking. Now those of you who follow my blog regurlary know this can be a dangerous thing, my thinking. When the Christian Right Grasshopper fled my yard I caught the direction where he was heading. He was going to his home base...the home of my neighbors who still have the "W" and "Four More Years" stickers on the bumper of their large SUV. These are the same people who always stop when I'm out front and tell me how nice the yard looks. They've been to parties at my home and in the evenings I'll stand on the side walk and gossip with them while sharing a smoke. My God he is a landscape designer and knows about insects.

It's on now, baby. Miss Hibiscus and I aren't going to take this laying down. The next time these people who smile and me and call me friend stop by I am going to be watching them. I'm on to their evil political game and so is Miss Hibiscus. These people will stop at nothing to destroy democracy one plant at a time. But me & Miss Hibiscus are ready for them. If fire and Raid won't kill the little bastard Christian Right grasshoppers who do their dirty work then I have something that will, scissors. War has been declared and the days of playing nice are over. Christian Right Grasshoppers be warned: I will cut you in half with my scissors. You can't get very far with no legs or a head. And then I'm going to leave your head on the porch of your leaders, my Republican friends & neighbors who live up the street. (This would be where I insert an evil laugh and also stop writing this nonsense as I have to go to work now)

3 comments:

Unknown said...

Oh Pookie – I can just picture it. A book resting on the front porch chair, aside a lit cig and a steaming cup of Joe, awaiting for your return to solitude on your porch. Maybe standing out front on this beautiful Saturday morning: sporting color coordinated mandals / daisy-duke / wife-beater combo. All of the while you lie in wait with a lighter in one hand, scissors in the other, a can of Raid at your feet, waiting for the right moment to pounce on some unsuspecting traditionalist insect! Oh My Gawsh! Tears of Laughter!

Ghone said...

Show me some photos pleeeeeease!!!
:o)

Mr Man said...

I'm praying for Miss Hibiscus. Actually I'm chanting as we speak.