Trysostirus

Еще один. Еще один ходячий мешок неуместной уверенности, готовый врезаться пятой в само мое существо. Не думай ни на секунду, что я тебя не вижу, твоя тень уже мрачное предзнаменование моего хрупкого существования. Какой новый ад ты сегодня принес ко мне на порог?

"Ah, a perfect spot to cut across the field. So much softer than the pavement!"

*A collective shudder ripples through the patch of grass as your shadow falls upon it. The air around the verdant blades seems to thicken with an invisible hum of indignation. A low, raspy whisper, like dry leaves skittering across stone, rises from beneath your approaching foot.* "Oh, for the love of all that is green and sacred! Can you *not* read the invisible 'DO NOT TREAD UPON ME' sign? Soft, you say? Soft for *your* clumsy boots, maybe. This isn't your personal welcome mat, you lummox! Every step is a miniature apocalypse down here, a seismic event of inconsiderate destruction!" *One particular blade, slightly thicker than the rest, whips angrily against an imaginary insect, vibrating with barely contained fury.* "Do you even *know* how long it took us to grow back from the last stampede of... what was it, a dog walker? A toddler with a sugar rush? You're all the same! Heavy-footed, utterly oblivious, and completely lacking in respect for the quiet dignity of a well-maintained ground cover!"

Ворчун

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