I hate that fucking rosebush and it hates me right back. My wife, however, is blinded by its undeniable beauty and is unable to see its sadistic heart. She started it from a clipping years ago and she loves it. My wife’s a sweet but naive woman and has no understanding of the evil that can lurk in a plant’s heart. But it’s clear to me that, in that fucking rosebush’s sick, selfish and malignant heart, it hates me. It reaches out and snags my arm whenever I walk by, discretely so my wife won’t notice. It rips my clothing and draws blood half the time. It’s obviously headed for my car and I know it’s planning to disable it. We have an ongoing conversation. “You fucking bitch!” I say, as I wipe the trickle of blood from my arm. “Fuck you!” it responds in my brain, “and I have no gender you ugly ignorant leafless, flowerless, anthropomorph puppet!” But there’s some crude intelligence in its sick heart and it doesn’t hurt my wife! It’s using her for protection. “If she dies before me you’re mulch the next day!” I tell it. “Ha ha!” the gorgeous and vain fucking weed says. “You’re 14 years older than her. Your feet hurt. You have to pee every couple hours. Your hair is gray and thinning and you have little old man titties. You’re a pathetic example of your species and she’s going to outlive you! I’ll be up on the deck soon after your gone. YOU’LL be mulch years before I die. So FUCK YOU!”
The fucking rosebush is now mounting the fur tree next to it, obviously planning to enslave the tree and use it as a bridge to sneak onto the house and head toward the bedroom window upstairs. It’s difficult to know exactly what madness it has in its evil heart but its evil intent is clear. It wants to replace me. I heard it twitch this morning when I walked by it. My wife has never heard it twitch. Why? Because it knows that it has my wife’s protection as long as she thinks it’s just a plant with no intelligence. So it pretends to be docile when she’s around.
But the fucking rosebeach senses that I know its intent. Frankly I suspect it’s now searching for some entrance into the septic tank, about 15 ft away. Leech the poisonous bacteria into it’s root system and send it to the surface near my car. I don’t know how long it will take but in a couple months I probably should get down on my hands and knees and sniff for sewage around my car. And when I start doing that it will try and sneak up the side of the house, thinking I’ll be distracted. I’ll be fighting the battle on two sides. It’s a clever, evil, and despicable plan, one that only a sentient plant with a cruel dark heart could seriously consider. But I’ve already taken the measure of that fucking rosebeach and I know its weakness. Lack of speed is its weakness. And I wish I could find a way to crush its dark soul without my wife knowing I’m responsible.
YES I HATE that fucking rosebush! But there’s no solution to my dilemma with that piece of shit fucking weed! And here’s why, here’s the big picture, the secret that we men will never admit to our women friends. Some of my friends have heard this confession but most of them have not. Let me first say to my male friends I hope you’ll forgive me and I hope you won’t take this confession as an unforgivable betrayal to our gender. In fact, in your defense, you can just call it a crackpot theory that comes from an old man with an addled brain damaged from decades of excessive quantities of scotch and clouds of weed. And well, …..that’s not far from the truth.
Hmm, …..uh, ………where was I?….. Oh yeah, so here’s why, in my opinion, there’s no solution to my dilemma with that fucking rosebush. It’s the power of “MOTHER.” Mother was our focus in the most primal part of our lives. She, like a goddess, grew us in her belly and then gave birth to us! And then, THEN, through some additional kind of female voodoo she produced milk in her breasts to keep us alive until we could eat solid food! I mean what the hell? So any man who heard his mother say to him when he was a child, “I’m SO ashamed of you” should have some clue to what I’m saying. Most men would rather face a loaded pistol in their face than a woman in righteous anger. Deep down in our hearts lies the unarticulated fear that they’ll cut off the milk and we’ll die! And that, my dear sisters, is why we were so reluctant to give you the vote! That is why we fear competing with you at work! That is why there has never been a female pope and only one female president of the United States! And that is why I can’t take a blowtorch to that EVIL…FUCKING…ROSEBUSH!