I have Bieber fever. That’s my reason on why I’m so hot at 7 in the morning. I’m wearing the same jacket that I wore when I could spit and it would turn to ice before it hits the ground. The same jacket I want to put on the ground, but I’m afraid it might get dirty. I’m not stepping on squishy land. It’s firm. It feels like I’m transported 2 months in the future.
The grass is calm. I wonder what it looks like when it’s angry. It’s been dead for the past couple of months. Now, without any indication, it has risen. I guess you can call it a zombie now minus the whole eating brains thing, like The Attack of The Killer Tomatoes. Wait, this reminds me of a different movie: The Happening, a stupid movie about the environment killing humans by being airborne and making the humans killing themselves in grotesque ways.
I’m Mark Wahlberg. I figured it out. The plants had enough. They want to take control of the situation. Every year, acres upon acres of plants, trees, and land are taken away. Scientists must’ve figured it was going to happen; the earth is fighting back. I’m slowly getting overheated. 62 degrees during the Pittsburgh winter season is unheard of. I want to lie on the grass, but I’m afraid what might happen to me. This could be a mirage. A mirage only happens when it’s really hot outside and the heat starts playing tricks with your mind. This could be a mirage during the winter time.
I snap out of it. It must be the fever talking. I walk away from this place trying to make sense of the whole thing. I wave my hair and start singing baby, baby, baby, ohhhh…