Aug. 31, 2018

Anne's nightmare!

Anne sent this in response to the stingbush:
 
"If you and I went to Texas and saw one:
 
Bob:  (in parched voice)  At last, a flower on this barren Mars desert!  I have to get a NatGeo photo!
 
Anne:  Oooohh, look!  Flowers!  Yellow flowers!  And they aren't boring yellow daisies!
 
Bob: (Searching for mud to wallow in for spectacular close-up)   Wait, there's no mud!  How can I take a picture with no mud to lie in?
 
Anne:  I'm gonna pick one so I can smell it.
 
Bob:  Oh well, I'll just have to squat down.  (and proceeds to do so, knees cracking)
 
Anne:  Look, Yellow fireworks like the Fourth of July!  I'm gonna go pick 3!
 
Bob:  Oof!  (as he lands on his butt)  Ok, this is more stable anyway.  (Hums photographer's mantra  "My body is my tripod")  Anne, wait!  No!  Don't make them move!  Stop!  Wait'll I focus!  Get out of my light!  Stop blowing on them!  (sigh)  Go over there and pretend you are a tree!  Now!  
 
Anne:  I am a tree.  My roots are deep.  Searching for the least hint of moisture. 
 
Bob:  (scootches around searching for best angle)  I wonder what plant this is!  I never saw this kind in Michigan.  (messes with camera)
 
Anne:  I'm tired of being a tree!  I can't grow here!  I think I'm wilting  (arms fall to sides, legs tilt)
 
Bob:  (messes with camera, moves 2 inches to left, messes more, etc.) 
 
Anne:  I think I'm desiccating!  
 
Bob:  (messing and focusing and scootching)  Perfect angle! (Click)  Oops (removes lens cap)
 
Anne:  (spends 10 minutes acting out a moving, award-winning death scene of lone tree)
 
Bob:  Trees don't grunt when they die, Anne.
 
Anne:  This one does.  Grunt grunt.
 
Bob:  At last, the perfect photo, worthy of my collection of other flowers!  Now to find out what it is.  (Starts searching in huge trailer of reference books.)
 
Anne:  (Finally dies with a final deathgrunt as Bob enters his van)  I'm gonna go pick some pretty yellow fireworks!
 
Anne:  These stupid leaves are in the way.  (starts brushing them away)  Ow!
 
Bob:  Anne, don't touch those!  They are nettles!
 
Anne:  OW OW OW 
 
Bob:  They'll sting you!
 
Anne: OW OW OW OW OWOWOWOW!
 
Bob:  Tha's a stingbush!
 
Anne:  string of beeped words  That really hurts!  This is an awful place!
 
Bob:  Tra la la la I found it!  (checks off life list)  Phew!
 
Anne:  Can we go home now?"
 
With apologies to Big Bend, I was delighted.  And Barb thinks Anne's a kindred spirit.  Here's a picture of them as trees, after a trip with me (in spirit only).