Monday, July 25, 2011


Dear Scotch Broom,

I hope you are proud of the record-breaking pollen count this year. Thanks to your generous dusting of invisible sex pods I’ve been blowing trail mix out of my nose for three weeks. This morning I took two Benadryl and fell asleep at a stop sign.

Everyone hates you Scotch Broom. We’re clawing our eyes out because you can’t keep your stamen under control. Half of western Washington is doped up on Claritin, Allavert, Zicam, Zyrtec and something called Ocu-Hist. I tried that new stuff Allegra last week but all it did was suck every ounce of moisture out of my body and left my head drier than a dead camel’s hump.

When I forget to take my little Pfizer bombs it’s even worse. This morning I power-sneezed through a 30-minute bus ride with only one tissue left in my pocket. What a great way to start the day, sneezing into every inch of clothing on my body. Finally, a homeless guy offered me his handkerchief forcing me to choose between sneezing into my shoe and getting crabs.

You know Mrs. Holloway from the mailroom almost lost her job because of you? She was in the elevator on her way to Contracts when she had one of those sudden barking sneezes you don’t see coming, like when a gun goes off that you swear wasn’t loaded. Well of course just before she sprays the elevator at 200 mph the door opens and guess who walks into her snot rocket? Mr. Reynolds, her supervisor. Way to go, Scotch Broom. Now she’s so scared to sneeze she doses herself every morning with a bunch of pills from the –dryl family and spends the rest of the day sorting mail based on color. Maybe if you’d stop spreading your petals for every Tom, Dick and Hummingbird in Thurston County some of us could keep our jobs. ˙

Why are you so mean, Scotch Broom? Is it because I called you cytisus scoparius in grade school? Well get over it. That’s your name. And if you’re wondering who told everyone that you’re an invasive species it was Jeremy Rutledge. Maybe he got tired of spending the summer in bed with a wet rag over his face.
Look, I’m sorry we dump you on the side of the road for erosion control. We all know you’re better than that. But just because you don’t get to live the pampered life of a hothouse tomato doesn’t mean you have to make everyone around you miserable. Living in a ditch alongside the interstate would make anyone a little cranky but hurting those around you isn’t going to change anything. Trust me, SB, you could be a beautiful ornamental shrub if you’d just calm down and shut your pollenhole.