the stick he left behind

Hell Hath No Fury Like When My Hosta’s Are Smashed

So, have I mentioned I hate humans? Hate might be a strong word, let’s say instead dislike. Why you ask? Well, because they can’t be trusted, have disloyal tendencies, self-interested, and you turn your back for one minute and they’re stealing your stuff and picking fights with one another, and right outside my door, trampling my garden, wrecked the Grandiflora Hosta, and left their friggin’ … Continue reading Hell Hath No Fury Like When My Hosta’s Are Smashed