Home
Artists
Search
Recent
Random
Posts
DMs
Tags
Random
Importer
Import
FAQ
Account
Register
Favorites
Login
Home. 5.21.2017. (Patreon)
Published:
2017-05-21 23:23:42
Imported:
Content
Someone has planted bamboo in the courtyard. I didn't see them do it, and it feels like a jungle has grown out there in a couple of weeks. There's undergrowth getting out of hand, it's rained a bit and I wonder if anyone has noticed that there are 15 foot stalks sprouting towards the sky, haphazard with no pattern. It's like someone threw seeds over the wall as a joke. And now there's a small jungle out there between the tight brick walls and blocking a decrepit back entrance.
I think I should tell the landlord, Karen, but I also think it would be amusing to see the eventual newsletter she will send out. "NOTICE: removing plant growth on the back courtyard immediately! Please don't mind the noise!!!" And maybe some guys with electric cutters will show up, pensive and serious, and saw through the slim stalks. She'll write us all in a new letter "Thank you for your patience!! To those who spread the seeds in the courtyard: PLEASE DON'T!!!!" And I like the idea of getting more newsletters from Karen. She's so enthusiastic. So demanding. I like reading her emails out loud to my cats. "Petunia! ATTENTION!! Please do not smoke in the hallways!! Your cooperation is appreciated!!! Thank you for your patience in this matter, Petunia!!!" as she languidly stares at me from the end of the bed, considering me as an overgrown food source. A life form out of hand. I never respond to Karen's emails. Even when they are obviously directed at me - apparently you are no longer allowed to throw cardboard in the garbage bin but must put it out on the sidewalks on Tuesdays. I am almost never home on Tuesdays, and having a pile of cardboard to forever be in my apartment seems a bit unrealistic. So, now I put the cardboard into plastic bags. The New York Times has multiple articles stating it all goes to the same place anyways. So screw you Karen. It's like my mom getting angry when we used to mix our corn and potatoes. It all goes to the same place, so what's the matter and who cares?
I think I won't tell Karen about the bamboo.
I think I should tell the landlord, Karen, but I also think it would be amusing to see the eventual newsletter she will send out. "NOTICE: removing plant growth on the back courtyard immediately! Please don't mind the noise!!!" And maybe some guys with electric cutters will show up, pensive and serious, and saw through the slim stalks. She'll write us all in a new letter "Thank you for your patience!! To those who spread the seeds in the courtyard: PLEASE DON'T!!!!" And I like the idea of getting more newsletters from Karen. She's so enthusiastic. So demanding. I like reading her emails out loud to my cats. "Petunia! ATTENTION!! Please do not smoke in the hallways!! Your cooperation is appreciated!!! Thank you for your patience in this matter, Petunia!!!" as she languidly stares at me from the end of the bed, considering me as an overgrown food source. A life form out of hand. I never respond to Karen's emails. Even when they are obviously directed at me - apparently you are no longer allowed to throw cardboard in the garbage bin but must put it out on the sidewalks on Tuesdays. I am almost never home on Tuesdays, and having a pile of cardboard to forever be in my apartment seems a bit unrealistic. So, now I put the cardboard into plastic bags. The New York Times has multiple articles stating it all goes to the same place anyways. So screw you Karen. It's like my mom getting angry when we used to mix our corn and potatoes. It all goes to the same place, so what's the matter and who cares?
I think I won't tell Karen about the bamboo.
Files
