Remember when I dug my flower beds and I was all excited about it and I couldn’t wait for my sunflowers and my sweet peas to come up all sunshiny and wholesome and stuff?
Well some little furry woodland buttmunch has destroyed all my sunshine and my wholesome.
This isn’t really him. It’s his cousin Albert. I couldn’t get a picture of Frank because he says he looks fat in pictures.
Everybody looks fat in pictures. That’s why God made airbrushes and anorexia.
When I first saw Frank I thought “awwwww…he’s so cute!” And I talked baby talk at him and then I gave him his name.
But this weekend when I went out to my garden that I lovingly water every day, I found that Frank the Garden Gansta, otherwise known as Woodchuckus Douchebagus from the Latin meaning motherfucker who’s goin’ down, had stripped the leaves off my sunflowers and mangled my sweet peas.
Do you know how much Girlfriend and I love to walk right out into the garden and enjoy a nutritious a sweet pea?
We like it a lot and a lot.
That’s why I’m not gonna lie to you Internet. I cried a little bit when I had to pull out all the stuff he killed .
I transplanted some cosmos to the bare spot seeing as he left that alone in another section of the garden, but by the end of the day he had eaten that too.
So now your Crissy is feeling angry and resentful and a little bit like Frank’s bitch.
In fact, while I was pulling the Cosmos stems out of the ground I think I heard him on the other side of the fence giggling in his little Woodchuck voice, saying “who’s your daddy now garden lady? Say my name! Say It!”
I out and out refuse to be a Woodchuck’s bitch Internet.
My grandfather, who is my garden guru,
wants me kick it old school and just put a cap in his ass, but I’m not old school. I’m sort of like middle school and so I cannot shoot Frank.
Also my shotgun was siezed by the po-po is in the shop.
So help me Internet.
Does anyone speak Woodland Creature language?
How do you tell a Woodchuck to fuck off?