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me, crouched down in front of my tomato plants, examining a pattern of insect bites on their lower leaves: i’m going to fucking kill whoever did this. i’m going to kill them for you. don’t worry, babies. I’m going to murder every single son of a bitch who ever got a mouthful of you. they’ll die screaming

my neighbor, who i did not realize was also outside, standing behind the fence: oh! okay. you’re talking to the plants. okay.

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