Hi. You might think it’s beneath you to listen to me, because I’m only a dandelion, but boy will you miss out if you don’t stick around for this.
That’s something I like to say to all the fallen twigs and branches on my patch of dirt. Because they’re sticks. Get it? I think it’s hilarious, but the sticks just stay as they are, so I guess they don’t share my opinion. They are inert to my humour.
You’re probably thinking, “What could a dandelion possibly have to say that’s interesting? Don’t they just…grow, go yellow, go fluffy and white, maybe tell the time if they’re lucky and some human decides to blow their head off, then die?”
Sure, I’m not pretty like the stuck-up Hyacinth, or exotic like the preening Bird of Paradise. I’m certainly no Rose, to go on and on about romance and true love until you want to vomit.
You may be wondering at this stage how exactly a dandelion goes about vomiting? Well, you know that viscous white stuff inside my stem? Yeah. It’s not pretty.
Anyway, none of this has anything to do with my amazing story about a humble dandelion who beats all the odds.
That’s me, by the way, in case you hadn’t figured it out. It all started three full moons ago, just before the Lottery…