So I killed this thing.
A right nice lady gave me a right nice plant for my office...and I done kilt it. It was real tall, and lush, and green, and full, and beautiful, and I gave it the ol' Extreme Makeover, Neglect Edition, and turned it into a krusty brown pile of detritus in a pot.
I didn't know where to throw it out. So, after I killed the plant, I put the pot formerly known as "plant" out on the veranda, which is a commons area for all the organizations in our building. That way, no one would know who abandoned the pot-o-nothing. I'm a class act.
The radio studio shared a wall with the veranda. I looked out the window during the show one morning and noticed this prim, middle-aged, bookish lady -- someone I still haven't met -- watering the dead plant. Naive, but, you know, sweet. But mostly naive.
She came out and did this every single day. I'd be on the air, notice some movement to my right, out the window, and there she was, watering and trimming the dead plant.
And then the dead plant, which Brant Hansen killed, started growing. The dang thing started shooting up green. It grew and grew, and she kept trimming it, too, here and there. She kept watering.
One morning, I looked out and marvelled: That plant that I, Brant Hansen, personally killed, was now more beautiful than when I had it in my office. It was back, better than ever. Glowing healthy! And it occurred to me...
I could take my plant back now!
It would look great it my office! I'll just go snag it sometime when no one's out there, and bring it back in -- you know, liven up the office for the me-meister!
And I mentioned this to my wife, Carolyn. She said it wouldn't be right to take the plant back. She said it wasn't mine anymore.
She said that lady redeemed it, so it's hers now.