Jerry pulled very hard at the tough weed. It didn't budge as his clasped hand slid across the strong base of the plant causing something akin to rope burn. He cursed a retched curse to the heavens. He was pissed. It was bad enough his electric battery powered weed eater couldn't do the job of removal. Now God was playing jokes on him. He was sure of it. He regrettably stood up and walked all the way from his front yard to the old shed in the back of his house. The shed had uneven doors, sagged from years of wear, that were just difficult to open. After a bit of struggle Jerry was inside the shed trying to hunt down a tool he felt was over kill for such a job, but nonetheless, he needed: a pair of hedge clippers.
Jerry blew on and massaged his wounded hand as he scoured the shed for the clippers. After looking on shelves and in boxes he found them where he least expected them: hanging in their place. He grabbed them and made his way back to the weed.
When Jerry got back to the weed he was astonished to find it had transformed into a fire breathing dragon, and he was then engulfed by flames and cried to the heavens as his life slowly slipped away.