The Machinations of Mother Earth
Mother nature tried to kill me today. I never realized how much of a dirty fighter she is.
I strolled along the street, minding my own business, and I realized that an aura of evil pressed in on me from all sides. I had been being attacked for the last month, and I rarely even noticed. She was trying to soften me up for her final blow.
Some people think that spring and summer are the times of the greatest goodness, where the cycle of the year has come away from the cold and dim winter days, turning to the glorious sunshine and chirping birds of the summer months. They are mistaken. For in this misleading time of new birth and flowering plants, nature's oppression reaches a horrendous height. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the evil Duke of Allergies rules the world in these so-called "cheery times".
I had been resisting her attacks, without even resorting to medication but for once, so nature decided to send her minion out to take care of me. I knew nothing of her plot.
It was with a free and easy mind that I walked up onto the grassy, nature-infested field on the top of the powerline hill. Guilelessly I sat down upon the log, and without care brushed against the assorted plants surrounding me. Little did I know that they were the most dangerous thing on the hill besides myself that afternoon. Before 15 minutes had gone by, I began to feel the effects, beyond the everyday influences of the grasses. My arm began to take a ghastly look, covered in unseemly lumps. Small bumps covered my flesh, and began to spread.
You average man may have quailed and given up hope in that moment, but not me. I was too strong-willed, and I determined to show Nature that if she's going to try and take me out, she'd have to use more powerful forces. After a shower and some baking soda, I wasn't even feeling the effects of the dastardly poison; a few hours later the effects began to fade even from the eyes.
Yes, Nature. You failed. Next time send someone who can get the job done. A bolt of lightning, or a tornado. Soccer-ball sized hail might do it too. But anything less, and you're gonna lose! You hear me, MOTHER? BRING IT ON!