|The weekly meeting of |
The Ladies Outdoor Garden Fornication Club
Dear Mr. and Ms What Was Your Name Again,
Although I am an advocate of free love, loving the one you're with and communing with nature, I must suggest, if not demand that you keep your skanky drunk asses, as well as any other private parts of your body away from my property, and specifically keep your too-drunk-to-stand-up selves off my rhododendron bush.
Look, I'm not the best gardener in the world, as you might have noticed when observing the coarse nature of my lawn as it scratched your half dressed bodies at 3:00 am am this morning, so you have to at least suspect that this bush was not planted by me, but by someone who knew what she was doing. It's possible that it was planted by the first owner of this old house and believe me, if this is so, she will haunt you.
So now that you have broken several branches and so obviously traumatized this bush, her recovery is highly unlikely especially with me in charge of the nursing (not that I won't do my best.) The point is, you not only woke us in the middle of the night with your "badly sung love songs" but you have stolen a bit of history, and since we live in a Unesco World Heritage town, and our house including the yard you humped on is located in what is consider "Old Town," you have defaced a historical landmark and so I am pretty darn sure that you are both now criminals, and you should worry because I bet that there is a bunch of DNA evidence on my front walk which grosses the hell out of me, but should scare you a bit.
Yeah. I live in a place filled with deserted beaches, rural spaces with fields and abandoned barns and all other perfectly acceptable, as well as artistically beautiful places for a drunken I-don't-even-know-your-name fuck, so why would someone want to get it on on my rhododendron bush? Ok, there is something quite wrong with that sentence, but let's leave it for now, shall we?
I'm almost three thousand percent sure that they fell drunk onto my rhododendron and then while already in a prone position and likely not able to get back up due to alcohol consumption, they just did it. Right there. And our windows were open and we heard them. But my poor plant is suffering from way more trauma than I am.
Anyway, after we decided that indeed, we were hearing what we thought we were hearing, Dave decided to stop the shenanigans -well, actually, he went downstairs to make a lot of noise so they'd leave because we are very respectful of the privacy of others and we don't want to be traumatized by seeing something we may never be able to forgot because you know even not-so-pretty people have sex, especially if there's a bunch of drinking involved. And I'm pretty sure that even Dr. Phil would have a hard time finding a recovery facility for people who have been traumatized by seeing ugly drunk people sex on top of a rhododendron bush in the wee hours of the morning while standing in a bathrobe in the front yard. I just don't think it's that common. But I could be wrong.
It's not that I'm against spontaneous sex or anything. Maybe this is a completely natural Rite of Spring kind of thing, you know, like that of the ancient Greek culture. But really, was there anything the Greeks wouldn't do? AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am unsure whether there was ever a mention of the involvement of a rhododendron bush in regards to these rites but obviously further research is required.
I just really wish this rite hadn't happened in my yard.
Unless, of course it results in a lottery win.