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Blasted mint! Sandra Lynn tangles with the plant, yanking at the stems that crowd out her basil. Every week it's the same thing when she comes outside to tend to her garden: water the plants, trim away the dead leaves (which, sadly, are a lot each week), harvest the few herbs that have survived, and fight the damned mint that keeps growing back! She swears that she's getting the roots, but it's driving her crazy when a few days later the scent of the mint leaves in the warm summer sun hits her like a brick to the face and she spots the unmistakable leaves amongst her herb garden. She's tried digging out the roots, spreading weed killer, and deliberately not watering the patch, but it just keeps thriving! She's had enough; it's time to call in the professionals, even if it'll be pricey.
The human’s name tag says “Cal” and his voice is low and mellow. He's the representative from Deciduous Druids, a local landscaping company that specializes in plant maintenance.
“So we need to find out what this plant’s deal is,” drones Cal as he surveys the patch of mint.
“You can't just kill it?” asks Sandra Lynn.
“Druids are about living with nature and embracing all forms of it, not destroying it.”
“Then how…?”
“Let me talk to it,” says Cal. He crouches down by the patch of mint and sticks a hand in among the leaves. His body glows with a brilliant yellow-green light for a moment as he casts Speak with Plants, and the light coalesces in his eyes.
“Hey, buddy,” he says conversationally, “How’s it going? …Mm-hmm… …Mm-hmmm… …Oh, yeah, for sure, bud! …Oh! Well- …Oh, okay, but- …Alright. Hold on.” He stands up and turns to Sandra Lynn.
“Well?”
He clears his throat awkwardly. “It’s… not good.”
“What do you mean, ‘it’s not good?’” she demands.
“It said ‘fuck you, I was here long before you came along and I’ll be here long after when your rotting corpse provides nourishment for my roots.’ …Uh, sorry,” he mumbles when he sees how livid she is. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”
She turns and glares at the mint. “‘Fuck you?’ ‘Fuck you??’ I’ll show you who you’re fucking with, you- you- you plant!”
Cal grabs her shoulders, holding her back from assaulting the clump of mint.
“Hey, whoa, calm down! We’re all about good vibes here, yeah?”
Sandra Lynn wrests herself away from Cal and turns away, her face a vision of fury. She takes a deep, calming breath and then turns back. “Alright, so, what are our options here? At this point I don’t care what happens to the rest of the garden – I just want the mint gone.”
“Oh, no, no, no, we don’t kill plants here at Deciduous Druids. I’m afraid that if it doesn't want to stay in its lane, there’s nothing we can do.”
“Wait, what?”
“That’ll be seven silver and three copper for time and services,” says Cal, holding out his hand.
“But you didn’t do anything to solve my problem! All you did was cast Speak with Plants and I could have done that!”
“Seven silver and three copper for time and services,” Cal repeats.
Sandra Lynn digs through her pockets and slams the coins into his hand. “You’ll be getting a poor review on Fantasy Yelp for this!” she snaps. “Useless!”
“Thank you, ma’am,” says Cal, and he heads back to his company van and speeds away.
Sandra Lynn grinds her teeth in frustration and resumes glaring at the mint. What now? She shouts in frustration, her voice carrying inside of Mordred Manor and rousing Jawbone from a nap. He comes out, scratching his belly, and saunters up to Sandra Lynn.
After giving her a kiss on the cheek, he asks “What’s wrong?”
She explains her endless war with the mint and the rip-off services of the druid.
“Bummer. Well, you know what they say: ‘If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.’ Maybe you should just embrace the mint. We could make some mint juleps and sit on the porch.”
That… sounds nice, actually.
“Fine,” she says with a sigh. “Yeah, sure, why not? I give up. I’ll just have a shit-ton of mint in my garden.”
“That’s the spirit!” says Jawbone.
And so Sandra Lynn accepts the mint. She waters it, keeps it clean of pests, and trims off the dying leaves each week, just as she does for her other herbs, and within a month of her loving care, the plant is dead.
She smiles. She’s not a druid for a reason, and she decides that if Jawbone still wants a garden, he can tend to it himself.