Message to Iris breakers

Version 1:
Dear flower breaker:
I hope that you received a lot of joy and satisfaction from destroying our flowers. You must have an incredibly empty and sad life if that is your idea of fun. May I suggest some alternatives that would not have such a negative impact on your neighbors:

• Try playing in traffic. It's very exciting.


• Take a nap on the railroad tracks.


• Try crank like all the other stupid people in Eugene.

Version 2:
Dear iris chopper:
I hope the memory of destroying our flowers continues to bring you happiness. We are looking forward to seeing our irises again next year, when you will not be able to damage them because you will still be recovering from the broken knees which I am going to give you when I track you down.

Version 3:
Dear deadheaders:
Next year, please wait until after the blossoms finish before cutting the stalks off of our iris plants. It is much more effective for encouraging healthy growth and allows all of our neighbors to enjoy the show.

Version 4:
Dear crank addict:
Just how much money can one get for a bunch of iris buds?

Version 5:
Dear friend:
I will pray for your soul which is obviously a dying dry husk. Anyone who would deny someone the simply pleasure of flowers must be empty inside. I am sorry that life has brought you to this sad state of affairs. You should probably seek help from your minister / shrink / guru / dealer.

Version 6:
Dear flower hater:
We can bloom faster than you can cut us down.
Signed: the rest of the flowers.

Version 7:
Dear vandal:
The remainder of the flowers in this yard have been treated with a genetically engineered fertilizer which will cause them to explode in a shower of sharp poisonous needles when tampered with. Cut blossoms at your own risk.

Version 8:
Dear garden fucker:
I will find you and kill you.

Version 9:
Dear heartless fool:
Please use scissors below to trim the remaining irises and then stab yourself in the eye with them.

Version 10:
Dear iris killer:
My grandchildren planted those for me outside my bedroom window after my motorcycle accident that left me paralyzed. It is the only thing I can see when my slave monkey turns my head to the side while he picks the fleas out of my hair. It is a very boring view without them.