~This is the third day of my incarceration in a maximum-security garden center. The florist glares at me from behind a bouquet of thorny roses, and she thinks I’m the dangerous one.
I think we’re both the same, but she’d disagree. She cuts off the stems of plants. I cut off their heads. They look better that way.
If only I didn’t get caught beheading a purple begonia in my neighbor’s front yard. I didn’t see the camera hidden inside a Lawn Gnome. I never liked Lawn Gnomes, with their evil little grins and pointy hats.
At least I had the pleasure of seeing the begonia’s head fall before they took me away. Begonias are smug, gnarly-looking things. I’d do it all over again.
The plant police picked me up just a little past noon while I plotted my next crime, kidnapping an Orchid from a greenhouse down the street. The ransom money would have paid for an electric hedge cutter I had been saving up to buy. Damn Lawn Gnome!
They came for me while I stood in the back of my house holding a plastic bag and a roll of duct tape. They were dressed in green jumpsuits and drove a golf cart overrun with vines. They dropped a net over my head and then walked me down the driveway. As the wind picked up, I heard a broken shutter bang against the house. It reminded me of snare drums at an execution.
The horticultural shrink asked me why I enjoyed killing plants, although, she had her own theory. She thought it had something to do with the first time I got poison Ivy. I scratched for days and had to go to school covered with calamine lotion. The kids called me pinko the clown and threw erasers at me. But the shrink was wrong. They always dig too deep into the dirt for answers and just end up with mud.
It was simpler than that – green Jell-O in fact. I was forced to eat the stuff when I was a kid. My mother said that it was good for me because it was green like the grass. Just looking at the stuff made me retch. But she used to make me eat it any way, while she knelt at the edge of the garden shoving plants into the dirt.
So, I gagged on green Jell-O, as she buried plants in the ground, leaving their perky little heads above soil pointed toward the sun, while I faced downward upchucking Jell-O into a dark empty pot.
That’s why I did it, because of the green Jell-O and all the hype about photosynthesis, which has nothing to do with cameras and everything to do with air. I’d rather suffocate while taking pictures of decaying plant corpses, with tangled roots and shriveled flowers, laying in the back lot of an abandoned nursery.
But that’s a conversation for another day with the horticultural shrink. What’s the point any way? They’ll never rehabilitate me. Plants are dirty green things and should never see the light of day. They should stay buried beneath the ground in the dark where they belong along with green Jell-O.