I gave Bill a haircut today. Now he’s bigger than ever.
I love my little desk buddy, but he’s hindering my work. Yesterday, he began spilling over into E—‘s desk. This morning, he covered the entire wall. It’s time to groom him.
I pulled a pair of scissors from the supply cabinet near the water cooler, flexed them, and hesitated. I had no idea what I was doing: I know very little about plants, and I was afraid of cutting him too quick. Do I start at the edges and work in? Do I clear the low-hanging branches first? Or do I shear him down to the trunk and hope he comes back? I had no clue.
I decided to cut him back from E—‘s desk, at least. And maybe away from the mini fridge, too.
When I reached the east-office door, tendrils sprung from the wall and clamped around my wrist. I scissored them with my free hand. They ripped, snapped, and fell to the floor. They wriggled like earthworms on concrete. Hot black blood spewed from them, staining the carpet. Bill shivered, hissed, and recoiled.
Then the limbs began to grow. They rooted into the floor, and two new tendrils sprouted from the stump.
Bill lunged again, this time sweeping my legs and dragging me toward my desk. I gripped the scissors like a knife and sawed the vines. Blood sprayed from them; Bill screeched. I kicked myself free as two more limbs swatted me. They missed: one shattered my coffee mug; the other cracked my computer screen. My hand gripped the broken mug and stabbed him in his trunk. He roared and withdrew.
I scooped up my backpack and bolted for the door. It shut right as Bill charged, screaming. He thudded against the wall, refusing to touch the door.
I’m coming back tomorrow, and I’m bringing fire.
I’m tired of office plants.
Like what you read? There’s more. In fact, this is the third episode in a longer arc.
Catch up!
“Morning coffee” is a serial fiction series, served fresh daily. So far, we’ve covered rubberneckers, co-workers, cubicle stains, office plants, desk trophies, conspiracies, secret organizations, pocket dimensions, black holes, and impending, inevitable doom. And that’s just the beginning.
Where should we go next? Let me know in the comment section below.
Stay weird,
-Jake
Reminds me of Little Shop of Horrors
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It does have that kind of ring to it, doesn’t it? I guess I’ll have to strike that song and dance number I wrote…
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Now that I look forward too
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Use Roundup weed-killer. It’s inexpensive, not the slightest bit organic, and the plants die slowly as they scream.
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You know how I hate that organic crap.
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Fantastic imagery and a fun read! Wow!
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Thanks, Wildfire! I’m glad you liked it.
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The pleasure was mine. What an enjoyable read.
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To be honest, I wasn’t really feeling this one. I don’t know what it is, but it feels really generic. Maybe I’m being too critical. Thoughts?
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