Two gardeners faced off at the clearance rack. They eyed each other and planned their attack like the lawmen and outlaws at OK Corral, ’cept one grasped a dibble, the other a trowel. ”Who gets the wilted lily, you or me? And the leggy petunias in a pack of three?” They began to argue and holler, each with the goal of saving a dollar. Where they’d plant them they started to wonder as they greedily eyed the sickly plunder. The buddleia was rootbound and the salvias were spent. The azalea was past its season, and the rose drooped for an unknown reason. The coleus had gotten too much sun and the zinnias were pretty much done. Still, the gardeners each thought they could save ‘em and were prepared to fight to the end to obtain ‘em. When push came to shove they took off their gloves. One grimaced and let out a groan. The other bristled and began to moan. When it really got dirty the manager stepped in. “There’s no reason to fight,” he said with a grin. To cool them off and snuff out the fracas, he gave them each a flat of vincas. That did the trick. They each claimed their prize and left the store with a gleam in their eyes. Relieved, the manager with nothing to fear, yelled, “don’t come back now, ya hear?!” That was a bunch of fertilizer and they both knew it. They’d be back. They were annuals.
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