Heavens to Betsy, do I love gardening!
It helps me get my head right when I start my day.
There isn’t anything much more refreshing or empowering, save for a freshly renovated kitchen, than getting outside as the sun rises and making all my luscious green bushes nice and soaked. You see, the thing about gardening is it takes patience and commitment, traits that any proper strong, independent women possess, to nurture those lovely little babies into full-grown, beautiful plants. And most importantly, you simply must protect your little fruits of labor from the dangers that exist in Arcadia.
Too much sun or too little water will cause your plants to wilt.
Too little fertilizer will prevent your babies from growing to their potential.
And unwelcome trespassers could ruin all the hard work you put into that garden.
Let me tell you, those trespassers will get you.
Mhm, I’m always on the lookout for trespassers in my garden. Just like men, they always seem to find a way to weasel themselves in my bush. And its always for their pleasure, never mine.
I remember there was this one time when I was spraying my ferns and I saw my fruit patch start wiggling out of the corner of my eye. Upon further inspection, I noticed a little yellow tail slithering in and out and around the stems through the soil, and naturally like any strong, independent women with any sort of common sense and maternal instinct, I switched that hose to jet and started spraying away at it to protect my poor babies from that horrid snake. Yet it kept slithering around even when I hit it with that water.
And that’s when I thought to myself, “Paul, what will it take to get rid of this gosh darn garden snake?”
I thought I saw a little yellow garden snake slithering around Arcadia recently, and upon further inspection, it turned out to be you, Yellow Python.
You slithered on in here at night while I was getting my beauty rest, sneaking through the soil of my garden to partake in the pleasures that so many others have tried and will continue to try to get a piece of:
My forbidden fruit.
Well, you’re a trespasser here, mister.
The brilliant Mr. Sebastian Boswick counts on me to tend and protect the garden that is Old School Wrestling from trespassers like you, and I will speak right to OSW’s manager if your vile tongue protrudes even one millimeter near my forbidden fruit, bucko.
That’s when you’ll find out what I did to that pesky garden snake.
Big Stu here got her shovel that moist, dewy morning and when that serpent turned its forked tongue for a taste of my big, juicy fruit…
I CUT IT’S GOD DAMNED HEAD OFF!!!
Because the only way to kill a snake is to go for the head, and at Thunder I’m coming for yours, Serpent.
You better get some sense in that little man-brain of yours before I censor your head off, because I will not allow you to ruin the ACA’s hard work.
Now, back to watering my bush…