**This is a fictional story. All characters are over 18**
I stab the shovel into the ground, watching the cannel of that little fucker cave in. As the dirt falls in the damage becomes clear. Roots and all, gnawed to shreds. I pause and feel a bead of sweat trail down my forehead, right into my eye. I squint hard to try and push the sting out. That sting escalates quickly into a fit. I stab repeatedly with the shovel at the ground, spewing the longest chain of foul names, all toward a single gopher. The little bastard has been killing everything in the back yard. I’m convinced there is a labyrinth of tunnels throughout the entire backyard. From the rose bush named after Amber to the small garden. My fit wears me down quickly. Clearly the heat is playing a role. I swear the sun has sided with the gopher in this battle. The centurion to his complex hallway system designed to basically fuck up my backyard.