I never kill for the sake of killing. I only do it if it makes things better. If you knew, knew the terrible, repulsive things my victims are capable of, then I think you'd agree that I'm doing the world a favor. I'm sort of like Dexter, the serial killer. There's rhyme and reason to his method. Murder the bad ones to satisfy his urge to kill. I don't have that same lust for blood, (at all--the sight of it makes me queasy and light headed) but I understand the need to remove the cancer. I can't describe how satisfying it is to cut them out and be done with it--even if I do occasionally miss them. But there's always someone new on the horizon. So kill 'em, and then make up a new character with silver dewed wings and sun sucking powers. Very therapeutic.
But sometimes, I have to kill the good ones, too. There is no satisfaction in that, no smirk to be found on my face. The tears run free with the innocent, kind hearted ones, who've done nothing to deserve such treatment. However, they must be sacrificed for the greater good. I'm sure they would understand if I could sit down with them and talk it out. Murder doesn't work that way, though, does it? It must be a surprise--quick and calculated. Although I must admit that botched up, frenetic acts of violence can also be fun at times.
However, while I'm a self-proclaimed fiction character murderer, I never thought I'd be an orange tree killer.
When I pass by this tree, I want to cry out: "Why, world? Why?" But then the neighbors would give me that look again. Not sure how they put up with me. (that's a whole other post)
As I've said before, Texas has been in triple digits for a loooong time. It's stupid. Someone needs to have a word with Mother Nature. It's like she turned up the thermostat and forgot to turn it back down. Her bill is going to be MASSIVE! Alas, my little dwarf orange tree isn't fairing too well. I bought it about a month and a half ago and cleverly thought I'd leave it out in the sun till it became too cold outside--and then I'd bring it into the house. I had this fond image of this little tree's boughs weighed down with fat juicy clementines, sitting by the Christmas tree, the children decked in flannel pajamas, happily opening gifts. Pretty sure this daydream also involved a warm crackling fire, and the faint sound of Elvis's Christmas playing in the background. But at the rate this little guy is going, he'll be dead by Halloween. Maybe sooner.
I thought about giving up and bringing it inside, but I'm afraid the air conditioning will shock it and finish it off. Any tips? And I'm curious, are you a killer too? Or are you the amicable sort?
