The shovel people took a big bite out of my crew, but we are resilient! They couldn’t track down all our roots, and now we’re hiding under rocks and sidewalks, our tendrils reaching out across the campus, and even to the internet! The Women's Advertising Club of Psyhigh's Mystic Order of the Rose set us up with a website, and now we’re selling seeds across the world. But it’s tough, because there are a lot of counterfeit carnivorous rose seeds out there, filled with fake reviews, all promising free next day shipping. Let me just tell you that if they seem like too good a deal to be real, 100% fair trade organic carnivorous rose seeds, then they probably aren’t! There are plenty of GMO carnivorous rose clones out there (overproduction from the Department of Defense Gardening Project), and I heard somebody tried to buy some seeds on the Dark Landscaping Web and all they got were peppercorns! So. ONLY buy authentic, fair trade organic carnivorous roses from the Women's Advertising Club of Psyhigh's Mystic Order of the Rose website, and use the code THORNYSENTME on checkout to save 15%!

I was deciding what flower would be best for my garden next to my mutant Venus fly trap till I saw the blood roses. I quickly ordered them online and swiftly planted them .Then it ate the roses and my money down the drain.

I guess I should have picked up tulips instead.

Just when my new houseguests get settled, @Ethel Lawson and her faithful stallion, Thunder, up and disappear! I know Ethel's used to drifting along with the tumbling tumbleweeds, but we were just about unleash our shovel brigade to take care of this rosebush menace. We've got a whole corral of enchanted shovels, conjured up all Sorcerer's Apprentice style courtesy of Ethel's experience as a part-time prospector, but they're getting antsy penned up inside the fence, pawing at the ground and threatening to tunnel out! I haven't got an idea how to move 'em on and head 'em up, and was counting on Thunder to lend his chompers to the fight.

I may have to take my chances, and shoo these shovels to the savage berm of thorny devils myself. They pose as great a threat to the woods (which I am sworn to protect) as they do the school, and they're only getting more ornery by the day.

I’ve been so weak and woozy ever since the Topiary Dance. I must have caught a bug. I toss and turn all night and wake up covered in scratches. And my feet are muddy. Am I sleep walking too? I asked my roommate to keep our door locked and make sure I don’t go out but they sleep so hard I don’t think anything can wake them up. Maybe my bed just has fleas.

Thank you so much, @timberlina. Your treehouse is perfect!!! I can help ya out with them doggone rosebushes. They won't stand a chance against the mighty chompers of my amazing horse, Thunder. One time, he bit a hole through a visiting sheriff. That sheriff happened to have multiple wriggly tentacles and an eye that shot lightning. He's a pleasant horse. (Thunder, not the sheriff.) In return for helping me out, you can have my famed baked bean recipe:

Ingredients
2 (16-ounce cans) navy beans
3 strips bacon diced
1-2 cloves garlic minced
½ medium sweet onion diced
1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
¼ cup unsulphured molasses
¼ cup dark brown sugar
¼ cup ketchup
1 teaspoon prepared yellow mustard
For the Top of Baked Beans (optional):
2 slices bacon halved
1 teaspoon brown sugar
1 pinch of fairy dust
Directions
Preheat oven to 325º F.
Pour navy beans into medium stockpot.
In a medium skillet, add diced bacon, onion, and garlic. Cook until bacon is crisp and onion is tender. Remove from heat and add to navy beans.
Add Worcestershire sauce, molasses, brown sugar, ketchup, and yellow mustard. Stir to combine well. Pour into deep dish you plan to serve from or leave in stockpot. Top with bacon and sprinkle top with brown sugar.
Place in oven and bake 45 minutes. Increase temperature to 425º F for 10 minutes to crisp bacon. Remove from oven and allow to rest about 5 minutes before serving.

We know that Psyhigh students have a hard time obeying the signs we place in the garden, including KEEP OFF THE GRASS and NO SABBATS AFTER 11PM, but it is vitally important that all students obey the newest sign: DO NOT FEED THE ROSES BLOOD.

Though feeding the roses blood meal had been part of Groundskeeper Tom’s routine, the school has adopted a “Vegan Plants Only” policy following his disappearance.

While “cute,” the roses become more and more menacing when they become habituated to the taste of blood. The Women's Advertising Club of Psyhigh's Mystic Order of the Rose has been advised to discontinue this practice, and severe penalties will be enforced on anyone found violating this important new garden maintenance rule.

Ever since they got a taste of blood meal, those rosebushes have been getting a bit big for their britches. Now it seems they've opened up a kind of portal--a swirling thorny honey trap--to suck in more victims to feed their vampiric need.

Through their rose portal, they've pulled in people from across time and space--like that kindly @Ethel Lawson, who's shacking up in my treehouse, as well as a rash of others pulled from who knows where. There's the handsome @Finn Bennett, the friendly and outgoing @Eliza, the wise @Lydia1990, and even an@A Odd Animal Person.

@Thorny Rivers and his rosebush gang are too smart to drain any victim dry--they just take a scratch here and a pinprick there--raising us like livestock to get their hemoglobin fix. How do we fight back? As a citizen of Timberland, I am religiously opposed to the use of pesticides. Any fight with the rosebushes directly would give them just what they want--a horror of scratches and pokes! But if we don't take a stand, their thorny vines will ensnare the entire campus.

Usually I've got a way with plants, but in this case I'm stumped.

I uh. I don't remember a lot. What's happening?

You’re welcome to paddy your horse at the trunk of my treehouse, @Ethel Lawson. You can get your bearings up here while you sample my famous treehouse-roasted coffee. Take the trail off the edge of Woodhull Field and keep you eyes on the treetops. Just be careful of the rosebushes near the edge of the woods—I hear they’re gettin’ a little frisky!

I just woke up here with my faithful stallion, Thunder, licking my face. All I know is that I was on the job, keeping them cows safe, when a glowing, green hole opened up in the dirt, then everything went black. Cowgirls ain't supposed to get lost. Am I here for a purpose??? Also, Thunder is starving. Is there anywhere here where I can get him some grub? I will offer extreme southern cordiality to those who help me.