Sanctimonious fucking tulips, you can go to hell. Take your strap-shaped, waxy-coated cauline foliage and go straight to hell. Fuck you and your bulbs. Fuck you for making me grovel on my hands and fucking knees to get you the hell out of my lawn. Let me tell you, if you ever want to get revenge on someone, plant this fucking pox, this blight, in their yard. And every spring, they will have to dig up the yard again, vainly searching for the fucking bulb. You can't pull them, oh no. This fucker lets you rip off its head, then goes into hibernation like some crazy-ass mutant from a Lovecraft story. That's right, its defence is to allow you decapitate it. And then it comes back to life.
Fuck you, mutant tulip.
