You’re walking through the woods…minding your own business…and then…something stabs you in the arm!
I’m talking about prickers! You know—those spiny things that are evolutionary designed to be a literal pain in the ass. No matter what you are wearing, a prick, always seems to be able to find its way in…yeah.
My youth is littered with painful memories, oh yes, my delicate hide has been punctured. There are a few cases of me being ripped backward as if the moody plant had something to say: Hey! Beat it! Get the hell out of here! I’m trying to thrive, damn it!
Who the fuck can move with prickers impaled in their back? Think about it.
We all have performed that delicate dance, you know what I’m talking about, where you twist on your heels, perhaps lifting an arm into the air, as if performing a painful pirouette. I’m quite the ballerina—trust me. I’m going to write more about thorns in the future. You’ve been warned.
For now: enjoy a gallery of pricks. You’re welcome.)