Operation Green Earth|
[Most Recent Entries]
Below are the 5 most recent journal entries recorded in
|Wednesday, June 20th, 2007|
Last night I had the strangest dream...wait...where have I heard that before? Anyway, as I slumbered in the subtle light of the many stars able to show face last night, I saw some fairly violent images of my disembowlment by the one I have heard called BearCub. My initial assessment of him upon my arrival in this place saw no real signs of savagery, however my late-night images and his nickname have me questioning otherwise. As he tore my tiny branches off one by one, the sound of a prehistoric beast called, not from his mouth, but deep within his leg coverings.
There's just no explaining the terror I felt.
Carl is not doing too well. More on him later. I have a scheduled meeting with The Care-taker regarding this issue.
|Thursday, June 14th, 2007|
The Land-owner seems to have taken my suggestion regarding a weaponized contraption to keep the birds out. However, his anti-aircraft system is using water as ammunition, rather than the prefered ICBMs I'd originally proposed. I suppose this is a bit more cost effective, plus we, the growing plant army, get watered frequently. Killing two birds with one stone, if you want to be punny about it.
Carl, the sickly but happy grapevine, has chosen a new nesting place against a wall. He tried to explain to me his strange desire to grow on
to things, rather than in
them. While I don't understand his methods entirely, he does show some skill in assimilating structures which could be harnessed to aquire a sort of base of operations. He believes the Groundsman intends on giving him a place closer to the domicile itself, but it's hard to tell if he's kidding or not when devulging information due to his constant "I heard it through me
Negotiations with the peanut crop as an elite armored assault unit have been completed in my favor. After losing roughly half their population, I believe they have recognized the need for some sort of unified state among the garden, if only for the stronger voice in the political arena. As a military option, they seem to be all for it, even claiming that they can bring on the watermelons for some heavy artillary. The raspberry bush, however, is a bit more difficult to speak with. Most of them are human sympathizers, dreaming of one day being snacked upon in a lucious dessert rather than taking up arms against the hand that feeds (well, and eats
) them. My hope is that a platform of general kindness to the enslaved humans I already have on board will get through to them. After all, I'm not exactly counting on Carl to operate the hydrogun turrets hidden among the grass population. He's a good plant, I assure you. Just not that quick in the action department.
|Friday, June 8th, 2007|
Ye Gods! The weather patterns around here are most disagreeable. In fact, I'm hard pressed to find much of a pattern at all. It seems to me that, when it comes to Mother Nature (a.k.a. Mum
), living in this part of the world is a bit of a crap shoot. I have never seen one of these mailmen
I've heard about, but I imagine their famous motto is put to quite the test around here. Word on the pollen wire says this jumpy weather should render itself a bit more stable, however I'm not holding my CO2. As I understand it, Mum is pretty pissed at a lot of these humans.
My new detail of mites has arrived, however, I have a feeling they're catching on to their necessity in my nefarious plans. I've managed to catch whispers of a labor union on the wind, and I believe they've caught on to the fact that bees get full health care coverage in their line of work. I may have to consider revising my stratagy a bit, however, if the damned finches keep eating me, I'll have to relocate anyway. I'm entertaining the idea of approaching the Land-owner about a potential surface-to-air projectile defense system, something automatic and laser guided. The few mites that have returned from the domicile alive have informed me that he shares my animosity toward these winged beasts.
|Monday, June 4th, 2007|
I have decided to exploit the local red velvit mites as the cheap labor they are. So far they've proven almost useless in the realm of espionage, riding on the clothing of The Care-taker and his companions into the strange and loud domicile resting before me. Last night, synthesized noises, possibly even phat beats
, eminated from it's walls, coming from what I believe to be audio/visual propoganda regarding some Golden Child
. Attempting to send a surveillance detail of mites inside may possibly have been the most frustrating thing I will ever have to endure. Most of them didn't even know there was
a house until I told them.
Which reminds me, I'll have to send for a new detail, because the idiots got swept away in the rain today. Surface tension, people! Come on!
|Sunday, June 3rd, 2007|
Today, my green friends, was a day of thrashing in the world of weeds. The pasty alcoholic creatures that peer over me from time to time (I believe them to be called humans
) managed to render a sort of garden vibe in my immediate surroundings. I am enjoying this immensely and have already had a wonderful conversation with the new grape vine. His grammar leaves a lot to be desired, but you can get passed that by focusing more on his boyish charm and flare for Cosby humor.
Dare I say my majestic, almost narcotic
presence has inspired these apes to till the soil and create a habitable environment for an army of peanuts, the very keystone to my plan of world domination? Be they my unsuspecting servants?
I'm going to contemplate that while I bask in the sun.