Legend states that eons ago, the land was lush and filled with plants of all sorts. This, of course,was in a age of far less turmoil and Beard Man was but a twinkle in the eye of the Great Mother. The Great Mother and the Great Father were stewards of this land, or so the tale claims, and they raised many little ones. All of them cared for the land, and the land for them, so much so that there was no need for clothes. It was, I suppose, a nudist colony, but no one knew and no one cared, for the land was gentle and yielding, the soil under their toes soft and fertile, and all was well.
However, all was not well in the world. One of the particularly ugly offspring of the Great Mother and Father was consistently found tormenting the squirrels and chipmunks, and was often careless when playing the in bed of nature, thrashing about and ripping up all sorts of plants. The legend continues that this child was so careless that one day, as he stormed through a beautiful meadow, he ripped bare from the bosom of Earth an entire patch of grass. At that moment, in pain, the Earth shuddered and released a bit of it’s cold, lonely agony in the form of a dark, warlock spirit. The spirit at once enveloped the child, a creature of havoc, and queried its birth.
What are you, creature of malice and destruction, that your careless actions have given birth to one such as myself, born from the loving embrace of the soil? – the spirit pressed.
I am a boy, careless and free, caring only for my own needs and momentary concern. – spat the boy in an arrogant, whiny tone. What care if of you spirit? I am Myron Plotkins, emperor of all I please!
(artist’s impression of Myron Plotkins as a child)
Get ya hence from my path, or face my wreckless disregard, as countless have before you!
Such impudence from one of those proclaiming themselves to be Warden of the Earth! – erupted the Spirit in a hiss. I shall curse your path, that your careless spasms think before unleashing themselves upon this sacred place. and with that, the Spirit fled off into the nearby grass with a “whoosh.”
Silly Spirit! – Myron Plotkins thought aloud. I’ve never met anything that caused me to pause before throwing my weight around, haphazardly destroyed whatever I pleased with no regard for the world.. I shall chase it into the brush and force it into a vessel for me to torment further!
So, not yet satisfied with the carnage of foliage he had already wraught, Myron charged further into the brush, after the Spirit, tearing up every patch of grass in his path. But unbeknownst to Myron, the Spirit, fueled by the evil of the vile child’s work, had corrupted the grass into a thicket of plant never before seen upon the world. And with a high pitched shriek of pain, Myron encountered the dreaded SandBur!
What is this wickedly thorny plant? –thought Myron. I do not recall having seen it, and it sticks into my flesh in a painful fashion. Clearly one as sinister as me would have encountered this before.
(Ouch! the foot of a SandBur victim, like Myron – but not him)
And just like that, an idea came upon the wicked child, one which even the dark Spirit could not have foreseen.
I shall use these spikey balls! They are so exciting, after all! Think of the misery I can spread among my brethren and the squirrels, laying them in their play areas and watching as they fall victim to my wonderful plant!
And so it was that the dreaded Sandbur seed was taken from the corrupted pasture and spread throughout the Earth. Myron Plotkins reign of ruination, scourge upon the Earth that he was, was only beginning. For he was still but a child. Imagine what he would one day be capable of as an adult, with his Sandbur army?
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