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A Special Blade of Grass. (standard:humor, 1024 words) | |||
Author: Oscar A Rat | Added: Jul 26 2020 | Views/Reads: 1259/904 | Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes) |
Not all grass is the same. I befriended this special blade. | |||
A single blade of grass caught my attention. Looking back at it, I can't really say why. It might have been that it was sitting away from its peers, in a clear space of its own. It also might have been its slightly orange color, or the fact that its tip split into three prongs, seemingly waving me closer. In any case, I had no idea that one blade of grass would change my future. I could say, for the history books, that I was an amateur biologist. But the truth is that I was an unemployed burger flipper, lying at the edge of a beach to leer at scantily clad girls. Unemployed, and mostly broke, it was a cheap and entertaining way for a young man of twenty-one to pass the time. Since no girls were walking around at the time, I took a penknife and carefully dug the plant from the soil. I was surprised to find its roots embedded in a rock. The rock appeared dark and gritty, as though burnt, and smooth on one side, although with many small pits in its surface--reminding me of pictures of meteorites. Carefully, I sat it down near me, sprinkling a few drops of "Mountain Drip" soft-drink on it, as if in a feeble attempt to befriend the plant. I needed a friend, one that didn't nag me to find work since I'd rather enjoy the life of a shiftless beachbum. That evening, when the sun went down and the girls' clothing went back on, I took my new friend home with me. Again, no reason and without thinking. Little did I know the plant wasn't my pet – I was its pet. Somehow, I knew to plant it in a pot of soil, and to set it next to the window in my one-room apartment. Also, for some unknown reason, I mixed a heaping teaspoon of salt into the soil first, before planting my new friend. At first, I was afraid my lazy nature would mean letting the plant die, as with so many others, but that wasn't the case. I never, but never, forgot to water it – also to keep adding salt to its soil. I don't know how, but it communicated its need for sodium chloride. In time, the plant grew larger – much larger – until it stood a good six-feet tall and had to be set on the floor, its roots now in a large tub and taking in a pound of salt a day. It also needed quarts of water, sucking it up like a sponge. The plant emitted so much oxygen that I was forced to keep a window open to avoid dizziness, especially if I wanted to smoke a joint. Otherwise, the match would flare up to singe my face and the MaryJane burn three times as fast. Emitted water vapor moistened the room, along with a distinctive odor like fine perfume. You know, the kind a woman puts under her arms. The plant did thank me. It would wave and bow toward me as I fed it, patting me on the head as I would pet a cat or dog. I kept it a secret, maybe afraid my landlord wouldn't understand and make me get rid of my strange buddy. I spent a lot of time out of the room, the moisture and heavy oxygen content not agreeing with my constitution. I'd wander around town, waiting for someone to offer me a good job. Hey, don't be surprised, the President says there are millions of employers out there looking for people. Sooner or later, one's bound to approach and offer me lucrative employment. In any case, I came home one afternoon to find the plant reading one of my porno magazines. It had grown several offshoots. Funny I hadn't noticed before. While the stem was bent over the magazine, another blade turned the pages. Those blades could stretch out pretty long, long enough to reach across the room. After awhile, the plant became very friendly and familiar. It would lay one of its blades on my leg as I watched television, even tucking me into bed at night, quickly brushing across my lips as it did. It even took to feeding itself and renewing its own water from the sink. Of course I had to continually buy salt for it. In short, we became good friends. It was almost like a mother to me. I only wished we could talk. I would have liked to know its history, where in space it had come from and why it was so kind to me. Click here to read the rest of this story (29 more lines)
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