Someone has stolen my flowerpot, Chicklets. And as much as that seems like it should be a metaphor for something sexual, it’s not. It’s just the hard literal truth. They left the little drainage tray thingy but made off with an entire pot that I had sitting by the gate that marks the beginning of my yard. What is the matter with teenagers these days? Aren’t they busy enough shooting up and giving each other blow jobs between algebra and civics? Oh, wait, they don’t teach civics anymore, that must be the problem…
I know it was Evil Teens that stole my flowerpot, because you hear them at all hours in my neighbourhood, marauding, their pierced chins jutting skyward. I read recently about this device called The Mosquito, which is supposed to repel them by emitting an annoying sound that only teenagers can hear! Can you imagine?
The best part is that the Evil Teens are reappropriating it and using it as a ring tone, so the grown-ups can’t hear their cell phones ringing. I will grudgingly admit that that kind of ingenuity is worth a flowerpot or two.