genocide

Jenny realized–no, was overwhelmed by feelings–that she wasn’t the most popular flower in the yard.  The roses, begonias, and tulips got extra fertilizer and careful trimming, but she got nothing, in fact, she had to lay close to the ground when the lawn guy came with the mower to avoid decapitation.  While she was a little miffed at the treatment she got (or didn’t get), she was horrified when she saw the lawn guy unloading bags of dandelion killer into the fertilizer spreader and heading in her direction.  She wondered if she had time to contact the UN and plead her case, not only for refugee status but the impending genocide of her kind . . . . . David, Sf.G.