Dear Icky Grubworms,
I'm writing this note to complain about your presence and destruction in my husband's backyard garden. You see, when you guys decided to make a home amongst the roots of our vegetable plants, you irrevocably damaged them, and have caused them to produce small, gangly looking fruit, which frustrate both my husband and me. What you do not understand is that you have very much hurt your own profits in your poor decision to take up residence here. If you had chosen not to live in the garden, we would be having large, beautiful vegetables, and as I cook them, the scraps and peelings I would have thrown out for you would have been delicious and convenient for your grubby mouths to find. Alas, you decided to ruin the garden. Furthermore, you have no idea of the trouble you caused to our nice evening. Furious at the fate held by his garden, my husband huffed and puffed and pulled up plant after plant. When I asked for his help in the kitchen where I was making Cinnamon Apple Preserves (which are all canned and sealed where you or no other damaging parasites or bacteria can get ahold of them) he came in and was disagreeable, fussy, and generally could not help but take his frustration out on me. I point out the positive, that we still have the garden on Pawpaw's land, but I'm tired and on edge from hovering over a pot of jam so I can't help but fire back when Darling Hubby gets an attitude. See, all because you stinking grubworms made him angry, Hubby and I are simultaneous trying to comfort one another over the loss of the garden and starting to spat in a pointless fight over Hubby's angry attitude. We decided to go to the Home Depot to get a few meager replacement plants and some lime to convince you to move out of our garden and find a new home or live & die in the toxicity of the lime. There, we found several dry icky half dead plants still at full price. We asked to see a manager about knocking the price down on the neglected plants, but the homely looking cashiers wouldn't and "couldn't" do anything. After a semi-polite exchange of words, my husband finds himself completely angry with Home Depot, over their stupid policy on marking down products and the fact that no one ever got the manager for him. The whole way home he fusses about Home Depot, and he pins his anger over you despicable grubworms on Home Depot, and gets worked up over nothing. Clearly, he is mad at YOU and taking it out where he can. You even called for us to spend extra money we don't have, cutting into our vacation savings. Frustrated that my usually sunny and optimistic Hubby was being what we like to call a "pissy pants Patty" I grew frustrated myself and fired off, "well, why don't ya just write Home Depot and tell them how stupid they are!" and proceeded to remind him that he wasn't really that angry with Home Depot, that their policy wasn't all that ludicrous, and that the cashiers had indeed been pleasant and not rude, and that all his angry was over you stupid grub worms and your destruction of the hard work he has put into that garden for months. With that, he told me that maybe I should write you grubworms a letter. So here I am, writing a letter to you grubworms that destroyed the garden and made me and Hubby fight on an evening that we should have been enjoying while admiring the many squash we would have been harvesting. In conclusion, Grubworms, your residence in the Wilson garden is hereby terminated and you will be evicted tomorrow when the lime goes down onto the soil of the garden and we attempt to start over. Good riddance and next time please think of the consequences before you decide reek havoc on someone's vegetable garden.