Don’t Mess With Texas


 Keep yer nasty varmins fingers off my office plant, Texas.  Were you raised in a barn?  Where I come from we know better than to go waterin other people’s desk plants all hoity toity like.   I’m givin ya fair warning that I’m gonna rig some firecrackers to go off in yer face the next time you pull a yellow or brown leaf off Texas.  Hell.  She’s survived three years in this dump and if she wants to turn yeller that’s none of your concern.

Stop coming over to my desk and rearranging her tendrils saying that she’ll grow bigger and stronger if she can spread out.  She don’t need no stinking sunlight!  I don’t follow you home and tell you what to fix your youngins for supper, do I?  Me and Texas can manage on our own with no interference thank you kindly.

I don’t particularly care if you don’t like to see Texas get dusty or drag the floor.  You know what Texas doesn’t like?  Your cloud of perfume that follows you like tumbleweed.  Lay off the Sweet Pea Kisses or whatever the heck that scent is supposed to be.  It’s ain’t natural.   Your husband steps out on you by the way. 

Don’t let me catch you with a cup of tap water over here again.  I ain’t saying I’m gonna smack you, but I am thinking about it.

God Blessed Texas – don’t you forget it.


4 thoughts on “Don’t Mess With Texas

  1. is someone really watering YOUR plant? OH. HELL. NO. that’s like someone coming along and feeding your child. if you want her to have store brand kool-aid and the neon orange crumbs from off the bottom of the cheezepuff bag, that’s what you’ll give her and it ain’t nobody’s goddamn beeswax. the nerve.

  2. Yes, this is happening. There’s a daily pop-by to prune my plant and lecture me. I resisted the urge to hate this woman for a few weeks but she broke my will.

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