I have to admit – I have met some damn good cursers in my life. Don’t bother checking the dictionary, that word is not there. A curser is not that little floating arrow on your computer screen. Nor is it someone who can compete with a sailor when it comes to throwing profanity about. A real curser is creative. Someone who can combine completely unrelated words with a curse word here and there to create the most unique if not hilarious swearing episode you have ever heard. One, from years past, still sticks in my mind and is perhaps the number one creative curser phrase I ever heard. I will not reveal the creator of said # 1 curser phrase. I will however share with you the phrase that to this day makes me laugh when I hear it spoken or when it runs through my mind. Ready? “Now what in the cornbread shit is that?” I can hear you laughing.

This past weekend, my friend Lizzie had conned her husband in to removing large plants from the containers they had resided in for the past 5 or 6 years and place them in her newly purchased containers. The instructions were simple. Take plant “a” from pot “a” and place plant “a” in pot “b”. But, make sure you take the rocks from pot “a” and put them in the bottom of pot “b” before putting plant “a” on top of the rocks. Easy to say.

Hubby tried to simply pull plant “a” from pot “a”, but was unsuccessful. He then kicked the sides of pot “a” to try and loosen plant “a” and convince it to let go of its hold on pot “a”. It didn’t work. Plant “a” was not budging. Just short or becoming angry, hubby decided to cut pot “a” and release plant “a” so it could be moved to pot “b”.

The first attempt was made with cutting shears. Pot “a” was a tough old codger, weathered by the sun, the rain, the hurricanes, and a few cigarettes and golf balls. It has survived them all with its tough sides in tact. A little ole pair of cutting shears was no match for pot “a”. Hubby next pulled out his rusty, trusty pocket knife. He raised his hand and attempted to stab pot “a” in the side. The knife and the hand holding it bounced back as if pot “a” were made of rubber. Hubby tried again. Same results. Lizzie states that at this time she could hear loud words from hubby, but could not quite decipher what he was saying. Lizzie was inside the house at what she deemed to be a safe distance from hubby and his creative cussing.

Hubby disappeared from the scene for a few minutes and returned with a really big, sharp, machete. He raised the machete high above pot “a”, swung down with a mighty slam, and let loose with the most creative words of cursing Lizzie had ever heard.

Lizzie knew that if she went to check on hubby he would pelt her with all the cursing he could think of, swearing the pot was out to get him. That he would never be able to move plant “a” to pot “b”, and so on and so forth. Lizzie didn’t give him the chance. She remained inside pretending she heard nothing. As suspected, hubby stopped cursing and completed the task.

Later that day Lizzie found pot “a” in the large trash can on the curb. Plant “a” was now in pot “b” sitting proudly by the pool. Lizzie was proud that she had not succumbed to the loud string of curser phrases that hubby had spouted for no reason other than to draw her out of the house and share his frustration. She was also proud that plant “a” was now in pot “b”. She does wonder though – if a person curses and no one hears it, was the cursing wasted?

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