Words of the Constant

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Kind

Survivor

Grass

Wilson P. Higgsbury

It needs poop.

Wilson P. Higgsbury

That's burning fast!

Wilson P. Higgsbury

It looks pretty sick.

Wilson P. Higgsbury

Err, something's not right.

Wilson P. Higgsbury

It's a tuft of grass.

Wilson P. Higgsbury

It was cut down in the prime of its life.

Wilson P. Higgsbury

It's not going to grow back while it's so hot.

This grass needs something to help it grow.

Hey! Brush fires destroy forests!

That's... not how it's supposed to look, is it?

Something seems off.

A patch of grass. With bugs in it, if we're lucky.

Can't take anymore from it.

It's too hot out for anything to grow.

I could probably find something to help speed up its growth.

That's not good...

It looks pretty sick.

Err, something's not right.

Grass. You do tend to find a lot of it outside.

And now it'll begin the painfully slow process of growing back.

Nothing will grow in this heat.

Could I get some fertilizer over here?

I never burn anything in the kitchen.

It's under the weather.

It's starting to look a little funny.

A common ingredient for success around here.

Plucked clean!

Too hot for you.

The life has gone from it.

Loge looks upon you!

Disease festers within its soul.

It is weakening before mine eyes!

That could be useful.

I eagerly await the next harvest.

The heat has defeated this plant.

Needs manure.

Oops.

What has brought this blight upon my world?

Looks a little off, if you ask me.

Tufty.

Nothing to harvest.

You'd think grass could withstand this heat...

It could use some perking up.

Fire, fire, fire!

Maybe it needs some chicken soup?

Are you okay, lil tuft?

Grass, next best thing to silk.

Picked down to the stems.

The heat wave bested it.

It needs poop.