To the bugs who have infested my garden:
You win. The tomatillo plant is yours. I don’t know what the heck you do with a tomatillo, anyway… I’ve heard of them in salsa, but otherwise, I don’t know – and I make a mean salsa without them.
I’m bitter, though. First of all, that you somehow managed to persevere through three different organic insecticides (all of which were quite expensive, I assure you). Second of all, that you continue to taunt me by going at it on all the half-eaten leaves of my plant whenever I come outside. I mean, can you get a room? Or at LEAST just wait till I go back inside? Seriously, judging from all the eggs ALL OVER my plant, you’re getting enough action. It’s almost embarrassing.
And I know – you’re still harboring a grudge over the kidnapping of one of your family. But I only took him to Bachman’s. It’s a happy buggy place, and I had to know what on earth you all were – so I could ward you off, of course. But not kill you, I promise! I swore I would garden organically, so I meant you no harm.
But you win. It’s over. After months of no tomatillos, anyway, I’m done. You can have it.
For the rest of the day, anyway. And then I chop it down and throw it in the compost bin.
Ha ha ha ha ha.