Juniper bushes love work. They love the look in your eyes, when you first arrive at them with all that determination and gumption set on a face with that squared jaw defiance!
"You are going down. I am master of my domain and you are a mangy old ground bush. I've got superior leverage with my tools and superior intelligence with my big honking brain. I've been staring at your ugly form for four years, but today it ends. The line is draw, the count is in and your sorry behind is coming out of that well cultivated ground. I don't care how big you think you are, how deep your roots go, how allergic I am to your bark or how many spiders you send crawling up my sleeve, today you are coming out!"
"You think so bub? Bring it."
They especially love it when you collapse in a rumbled heap at their base, with your pulse sounding loudly in you ears over the din of your mp3 player, sweating profusely and shaking your head after three hours of hard labor. They really get a kick out of that.
"You think this is over?! You think I'm done? So my clothes are soiled my shirt is dripping wet and my palms look like the scene of a sandpaper attack army. I'm not letting you win again!"
"Are you going to start trying now? I think one of my two thousand twenty five roots might have wiggled a bit on your last attempt. I totally liked the part where you were jumping up and down on my main limb like it was a freaking trampoline."
"I still don't get why that didn't work..."
"Did you see the look your neighbors gave you?"
"No, my vision is impaired by my lack of oxygen. I'll I can see are shadows."
"Ah. Well then, are you ready to call it a day then?"
Gotcha! Now all's that left is digging out the root ball (under the rock in the corner)... Maybe next year...
Related Prequel Post: Battle Of Wills