Allow me tell you a tale of sadness and rage. A tale from the garden. One that involves giant demon grasshoppers from hell and the beautiful, yet brief life of a dahlia blossom.
This dahlia, to be exact.
I have been watching it every day, anxiously awaiting it to bloom because, for Pete's sake, not one of my flowers have yet to bloom before the grasshoppers devour them.
So today I came home to find a four-inch grasshopper clinging to my precious flower and making a savage meal out of it. That grasshopper soon died.
And I may have cried about it (the flower, not the grasshopper).
Is that pathetic? Nevermind, I don't want to know.
I then whipped up a hot sauce spray and sprayed all my flowers because it's the only thing I could find in Internetland that is said to deter grasshoppers.
Not long after, I opened the front door to find this staring at me
I believe it may have been out for revenge, but I came prepared with my bottle of Spectracide and sprayed the last bit of life out of him. I laughed my gloriously evil laugh and watched as he struggled to hop away.
Hop no more demon spawn!
And stay out of my flowers!