Ficly

Growing

Ralph hated mowing his yard. It wasn’t the actual act of mowing he hated more than the constant struggle against his yard. The ground was always uneven and his old mower had trouble cutting through the tough blades of grass, even after the blade had been sharpened.

He stopped the struggle long enough to wipe the sweat from his forehead. He turned around to survey his work and, to his surprise, saw that the grass he had just mowed over had grown back even taller. “What the hell?” he mumbled, and ran the mower back over the strip he just mowed. He turned around immediately to see the grass quickly growing even taller behind him. He tried to turn the mower around again, but the grass was growing thick all around him.

Ralph started to panic as he ran towards his house, only to see it being engulfed in the green tentacles of quickly growing grass. He tried to run to his car, but his feet were entangled.

“You beat me. You finally beat me, you bastard!” was all he could say as he was consumed.

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