
For some human males, gardening is a popular pastime. For others, it’s a life or death battle against the forces of nature.
And that’s why some human males take up preening a bonsai tree. But little do they know, it can go a long way to destroying their lives.
When a Man Loves a Bonsai Tree
Dear Agony Aunt. My husband, Rupert, and I have been married for 50 years. We have two sons both of whom have grown up to be drug dealers well respected in da hood, with homies not bitching on them to the filth. We now live in a mansion with many acres of land to our name as my husband was a successful arms dealer on the black market. I had side hustles, away from my part-time job as a cleaner, working as a ticket scalper, hitwoman, and con artist. Now we're retired and living quite comfortably, but my husband seems bored and listless. I suggested he pursue endeavours in gardening, so he commenced looking after a bonsai tree. Initially, I was delighted to behold his descent into this most worthy of pastimes. Yet, alas, this has become the only thing he indulges in. He sits in his study looking after, and talking to, the tree. Vexed by this, I setup a listening device to record his conversations. These turned out to be heavy in prolixity. But candid! Rambling psychosomatic ventures indicating a flux of ennui aquiver with glib umbrage and, I would argue, perfunctory tryst. I confronted him with my recordings, pure empirical evidence, to which he could only admit he's "fallen in love" with the tree. I slapped him across the face and immediately filed for divorce. He argues I am cold, calculating, and "difficult to open up to", insults for which earned him yet another slap across the face. Me? Cold!? I had him know I would lay my life on the line to protect my family's fortune! Is that the act of a cold and calculating woman? I think not! Regardless, I wanted to keep a low profile and not use a high flying psychiatrist I could easily afford. Instead, I came across your questionable website and realised it's inane and lowbrow enough to stoop to the point you'll agree with my required confirmation of my pursuit in removing current marital status from my life. Regards, Angelica
Hi there, Angelica. This reminds us of that beautiful song When a Man Loves a Woman by Michael Bolton.
Here, we’ve evolved the lyrics to become a metaphor about trees so you may find a deeper meaning:
When a man loves a bonsai tree,
Can’t keep his mind on nothin’ else,
He’d trade the world,
For the leafy thing he’s found.If the tree is bad, he can’t see it,
The tree can do no wrong,
And turn his back on his best friend,
If he puts the tree down.When a man loves a bonsai tree,
Spend his very last dime,
And trying to hold on to what he needs,
He’d give up all his comforts (such as part of his garden),
And sleep out in the rain (not a problem if he lives in the garden shed),
If the tree said (or, at least, implied—like with the tilt of a branch) that’s the way it ought to be,
When a man loves a bonsai tree.I give you everything I’ve got (such as some soil from the garden),
Trying to hold on to your precious branches,
And baby, baby please don’t treat me bad,
When a man loves a bonsai tree,
Deep down in his soul.The tree can bring him such misery,
If the tree is playing him for a fool,
He’s the last one to know,
Loving branches can never see,
Yes when a man loves a bonsai tree,
I know exactly how he waters that mother.‘Cause baby, baby!
When a man loves a bonsai tree,
When a man loves a bonsai tree,
When a man loves a bonsai tree,
When a man, when a man,
When a man loves a bonsai tree (and not a woman).
Uh huh, yeah, aight!
That should make sense for you now! For, you see, a man’s garden is resplendent in the very nature of his soul.
His love for the bonsai tree is pure and is likely a deeply personal relationship, in the way analogous to how he, begrudgingly, cleaned your sons’ putrid nappies when they were nippers.
Sure, you can divorce him! But then you’d be breaking a marital bond of 50 years over a love so pure for a tree it should really be making you weep tears of joy.
Angelica, your husband has done a truly beautiful thing and you should be proud of him. Not disrespectful. Please. Please… remember that.
Agony Aunt Update: After sending Angelica our response, she’s since divorced Rupert, has sole access to their sons, and taken 99.9% of the family estate. Additionally, she filed for Rupert to be sectioned due to his “insanity” and he’ll spend the rest of his natural life in a psychiatric hospital. To be on the “safe side”, Angelica has also had the bonsai tree destroyed.
Great story and a much improved rendition of Bolton’s original.
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Thank you kindly! I’m thinking of changing my career path to write about plant-based songs. The Vegan Virtuoso is what they shall call me.
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You mean the Yellow Basketball Backboard Yodeler?
OR The Marmite Meower.
What about Percy Sledge? He sang the song first?
Still, nice job on the lyrics!
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I prefer The Vegan Virtuous. You should be The Vegetarian Ventriloquist. Or some such.
The Dressing Gowns would be a good name for a band. Everyone on stage in a dressing gown singing songs about sleepy boo boos.
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I’d love to know how to throw my voice!!!
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Probably not the most medically sound thing you could do. Like losing your voice. Always a sad thing. Get the Lost signs out and hope for the best.
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