The return

 So, when we last left off in the War of the Fake Flowers, I had just received a package in the mail from my demon of a sister. I think I forgot about the flowers after that for the most part, until I found a nicely pressed flower inside a frame on my bookshelf.

That was soon before I started packing to move and again the flower war was forgotten about. Until Jute decided to recruit the Boy (MY BOY!) to create an arrangement on our bed for me to arrive to when I moved to Auckland. Fortunately for me, and unfortunately for Jute, he feared my wrath and so wouldn’t play along. I’m not so sure I could count on his loyalty now… but nevermind.

Jute had to search for an ally in my brother instead, who happened to be visiting soon after I moved. I happened upon the first of that particular assault when I went to bed and found a rose wrapped around the reading light above my bed.

Turns out that wasn’t the only rose that he’d planted… I found one a few weeks later, perched above my sun visor in my car.

This sort of treachery deserved a calculated response. Luckily for me, Jute’s birthday was coming up. I found out during a skype conversation that her husband was planning to take her out for dinner. A quick courier of the ammunition down to a florist friend (who shall remain nameless [she didn’t want to be associated with fake flowers. heh]) and some stealthy intelligence gathering allowed me to find out the restaurant and the name they had booked under. Jute and Gaz arrived to find this delightful arrangement set on their table:

And since then the war of the flowers has slowed up a little.

But the abuse hasn’t. Jute made the mistake of buying a house and Mum and I have taken great pleasure in presenting her with all sorts of delightful house warming gifts… such as a kitten chopping board (practical enough that she probably couldn’t justify throwing it out), some fake vinyl lace trim for hanging from shelves, butterfly decals, and some gorgy shell bathroom hooks.

It’s not a good idea for me to buy for at least another 10 years. That kid has a long memory.


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