The Deal Killer

Last year, for the first time, I planted a garden. Well, mostly I watched my dad plant my garden.

I put up a fence so our dumb dog couldn't get in.

I watered.

I weeded.

It grew and grew and I was proud.

And then I saw the snake.

And I couldn't enter the garden again.

I planted a garden again this year. My dad only planted the potatoes. And the onions.

I've watered.

I've weeded.

And apparently, I had forgotten the reason why I gave up on my garden last year.

Until the huge, ugly reason nearly slithered across my foot as I was happily weeding my corn tonight.

To say that I hate snakes is to be too nice to the snakes. If loathe is worse than hate, then I loathe them too. They make me want to vomit.

Remember yesterday when I said that hell was a really long hill on a bike? I've added to that vision. What keeps you pedaling up the long hill is that there are snakes on both sides of you that will slither up your legs if you stop.

If that's not enough to make anyone be good, I don't know what would be.

My poor garden. Sorry I can't take care of you anymore.

You now belong to the snake.