Gigantor Toad and Cooper

Be still, friend, for I want to huff your soul.
Be still, friend, for I want to huff your soul.

Being a super badass modern man I have been changing our landscaping since this springtime. Yeah, it has taken me a while but you can’t rush perfection and Lil’ Man isn’t exactly good for helping me make progress. I removed arborvitae near the house (as chronicled earlier in a sweet chainsaw review) but hadn’t had time to remove the stumps until recently. One six foot long crowbar and a half sharp axe (one in each hand swinging at the same time) provided the leverage needed to pop those suckers straight outta…the ground…in timely fashion.

On the third stump I was valiantly flailing with the axe when I saw this big ol’ wart machine (just kidding, toads don’t give warts. Because, you know, science.) standing on his hind legs next to the stump and curling his toad fists at me as if to say, “Come on, man, put down the axe and let’s duke it out like drunk Irishmen.”

“Fret not, Gigantor Toad.” I said.

Due to his size I knew he was eating the shit out of some black widow spiders and whatever else sort of tasty eight legged assholes were roaming my garden area. Since my furry shadow was outside with me I called him over. Dude loves toads. Gigantor Toad wasn’t as brazen with Cooper as he was with me and tried to tuck his face in my glove (I was wearing them so I wouldn’t get blisters. The Hotness doesn’t like blister palms. I’m not scared of no toad, people.) but Coop got all he wanted anyway. A few good huffs later he was fulfilled and we picked out a spot in the rose bushes to deposit Gigantor Toad so he could continue to fight the good fight against Satan’s henchmen.

Spiders suck and toads are cool. And my dog is cool as he loves all. Except raccoons and squirrels.

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