Potash for perennials, manure for marigolds,

Potash for perennials, manure for marigolds, and quick lime for my ex Leonard. Well, let's get to it.

I whistled Dixie down aisle 13, cheerfully oblivious to the fatal flaw in my Saturday afternoon gardening plans.

I didn't know then that the garden was haunted by a vengeful ghost and that today of all days was the 100th anniversary of his grisly death. No way I could

have known that. There were no warning signs. Besides that creepy butler with too much information. And that weird invite I got to come here. But my drinking kept me sharp, so I

figured I would have noticed something of this magnitude. I suppose it doesn't matter anymore, now that

I am older and wiser. That is a huge relief, seeing how young people are addicted to their phones. They have lost all sense of creative thinking. What a sad commentary on youth.

Had I known that my bigoted thoughts were being listened to by a race of super-intelligent octopus aliens, I would have defended them. In a microsecond, the human children vanished

replaced by apples. I was in quite the moral dilemma, unsure whether eating the apples would grant me a title as cannibal or not. I bit into one. It was delicious.

but, if this town is just an apple, then let me take a bite. If they say, ""Why? Why? Tell 'em that is human nature.