As I cut a swath of destruction through the verdant patches of clover, the insects who had made the area their home attacked with impunity. I was entirely conscious of my role as invader, conqueror, and destroyer. I felt like a massive alien with the bugs playing the role of plucky pilots giving their all in the face of an indomitable enemy.
They attacked relentlessly. I swallowed at least one who, I suppose, tried to make a Death Star trench run to my core. Another flew directly in and buzzed in my ear for several worrisome seconds. Others dove at my eyes and face. A few scored some pretty nasty bites on the back of my legs.
From the perspective of an insect, whose lifespan is so much shorter than us, this assault probably went on the for their equivalent of decades. All to no avail. In the end, a broken jungle lay in my wake with only a few broken stalks as testament to what once was. In its place was a lush lawn of relatively uniform height.
Long live the empire!
I get the strangest thoughts while mowing the lawn.