a conversation between two wildflowers on a sunny day: part 3.

"carl, you look a little bloated today. and again with the sunglasses?"
"yeah, i'm still recovering. i had too much last night."
"too much what?"
"too much everything."
"carl, i think you may have a substance abuse problem."
"roger, just because i like to have a good time doesn't mean i have a problem. so what if i liked to get fucked up?"
"but shouldn't just life itself be enough for you to enjoy? why do you constantly need to be in an altered state?"
"on this planet, my dear friend, there will always be flowers who think like you and also think like myself. your version of an altered state is my chosen version of reality."
"that's just a bad excuse to get wasted."
"roger, we're wildflowers. since you're not living up to the stereotypes of our kind, flowers like me have to compensate for your lack of hackneyed convictions."

a conversation between two wildflowers on a sunny day: part 2.

"carl, what's with the sunglasses? is everything alright?"
"i feel tired today. life is making me glum."
"'glum?' but the sun is out and we got some warm rain last night. we should be feeling peak today."
"well, roger, i'd love to feel the way you do, but i just don't today."
"what's wrong?"
"seeing that worried face of yours, carl, is making me grateful that i have these sunglasses on. i just don't feel like being social today, i can't explain it. i'm okay i guess."
"well, let me cheer you up. maybe i can just talk and you can listen?"
"i'm not sure how that's different from any other day, but sure."
"so, have you seen how the chivers' redecorated their tree trunk? they added these faux mushrooms onto the tree's side and it looks so cool. they're in different colors and everything, i could stare at them for hours."
"yeah, i've seen them. those faux mushrooms are intermixed with real ones, right?"
"yeah, those! how awesome is that?"
"i don't like them."
"how could you not like them? they liven up the tree and make things so much better."
"make things better how?"
"you always ask such odd questions, carl! i don't know how they make them better, they just do."
"but those faux mushrooms don't have any function whatsoever. they add nothing to the tree except for the aesthetic of obviously fake mushrooms that have been plastered to the tree trunk's side."
"but why can't that be the function? to just please the eye?"
"because that's not a function, it's a preference---there's a difference. what if some poor, scatterbrained animal goes up to the tree and eats those faux mushroom by accident? then what? that animal will die in no time with all that faux mushroom in their system, all because the damn chivers wanted to decorate their tree. those fugly fake mushrooms are a bad distraction. they plunder attention away from the real mushrooms that have their own story. those mushrooms belong on the tree trunk and those ridiculously dyed fake ones don't."
"well, i think it looks good and i like it. the chivers should be able to do what they please with their own tree trunk."
"roger, you're making me more glum. i'd like to be left alone now."
"no, wait. we'll talk about something else then. how about we discuss your sunglasses. are they new? where'd you get them?"
"next topic."
"hmmm. oh, i know. did you hear about that young raccoon chick who was found dead this morning next to the chivers' tree trunk?"

a conversation between two wildflowers on a sunny day: part 1.

"what do you mean, 'you just like it?'"
"i just do."
"but how? how can you find pleasure from something like that? it's gross and incorrigible. have you ever thought about how it affects all of us around you?"
"shut up."
"'shut up?' this is how you talk to me because i'm trying to help? this is what you say to your best pal?"
"roger, i need some air. can we go for a walk?"
"'a walk?!' we're wildflowers for god's sake. we can't walk anywhere."
"fine, then let's go for a sway. the sun is killing me today and there's no breeze. i need to stay mobile."
"then we'll sway-and-talk. alright, so then what do you have to say for yourself?"
"okay, it was a mistake. i'll never do it again, i'm sorry."
"hold on, hold on. you were swaying too fast and i couldn't hear you. what did you say?"
"i asked about stella, has she been around recently? what's the latest you've heard on her?"
"well, you know jerry, right, the dude who was only lets the hummingbirds eat his pollen? well he heard from petey, the rock, that stella's been quite the talk of her prairie. sorry, i'm going to whisper this because i've been sworn to secrecy, but i heard she's got some weird uv allergy. in fact, she's had it for a while and refuses to be seen because her antennas are starting to look all weird. have you ever seen a ladybug with aberrant antennas? it's quite disturbing if you ask me. okay, can we stop swaying now? i'm getting tired and i think a breeze is starting up."
"stella would be hot even without antennas."
"carl, there you go again. now, back to what we were discussing before, how can you 'just like' being under fluorescent lighting? don't know you about jerry's grandma? it was only about an acre away from us where she died when these idiot campers settled right next to her. it happened really fast and she was a goner in no time."
"have you ever felt the rush of being under fluorescent lighting? you can feel it right down to the pedicel. it's awesome---it makes me feel alive."
"man, you have issues."