The title says it all. Any other informal amateur fiction writers out there?
Here's something related to plants that I wrote for Creative Writing. I was kind of hyper when I wrote it.
Monologue of a Mistreated Tropical Houseplant -- Why Plants Became Carnivorous
It’s so dry in here… haven’t these people ever heard of humidifiers? For godssake, the relative humidity is like 20% in this room. And the roots – ugh! It’s like being crammed into an elevator with 50 obese sick people. And where are the drainage holes? I feel like I’m sitting in the Great Flood except there’s no ark to save me here. Some jerk poured a gallon of UNDISTILLED cold water into this ridiculous holding cup. How dare they treat a majestic tree fern from the hills of Borneo this way? Idiots. I’m going to drop a few of my beautiful leaves and see how they like it. Maybe then they’ll actually do some RESEARCH on my natural needs and get me a bigger freakin’ pot. Maybe it’ll even have drainage holes…
Oh god. More water. Now there’s a flood floating ON TOP of a flood. Rootball disturbed! Panic! Moving into operation shrink to soggy crust at bottom of pot. Just gotta remember to leave some green so they don’t throw me away. But mark my words; it’ll be a very shriveled, weak, form-crippling green, not the lush verdure they see in their stupid gardening magazines. How could they pour more water on…? I can imagine the scene now: “hmm… looks like our little palm tree thing is wilting a bit. I gave it a whole bucket of water… so let’s add more water.” Whoever’s taking care of me probably has a horticultural experience consisting of the wave petunia and the half-dead African Violet. And for your information, I am not a “little palm tree thing.” I am a Cyathea, a skyscraping fern from the heart of the jungle taken out and put in this craphole. Unbelievable.
Did I mention how dark it is in here? I require approximately 4,000 lumens to photosynthesize properly. Now my chloroplasts detect closer to 400. I’m probably next to a north facing window in the darkest corner of the room. And every day it gets darker. The sun turns off earlier and earlier. It’s cold, too. Not even seventy degrees… I can’t process proteins anymore! This never happens in Borneo…
My roots are getting dryer. Well, at least the imbeciles that bought me from the store seem to have stopped watering now. Time to get some root growth in. Maybe I’ll put out a little offshoot just to let them know “hey, idiots, you do good thing!” Maybe I can photosynthesize a bit with that and build from there. But no, I know any minute now that another flood is coming. But wait… A day has passed and they still haven’t watered me! Oh look, there goes another day, and another… Soil’s getting a little firm, nothing I can’t handle, there’s another one without watering. Now I’m getting slightly pissed. When I wanted less water I didn’t mean I wanted the Sahara desert. They’re supposed to wait until the top is dry and then pour in approximately four cups of DISTILLED warm water. Well, the top of my soil is dry. I’m waaaiting…
I’M THIRSTY!!! The tonicity of my cells is moving towards hypertonic! They’re releasing water! The firm, rigid cellular structure that supports my stately frame is collapsing into a heap! How dare they neglect me!! The idiots are probably entertaining guests right now and sucking on beers at a soccer party. Don’t they know their beautiful fern is dying? Help me. Cannot… go on… like this…
AAAAUGH!!!!!!!! JESUS CHRIST!!!! THEY’RE EATING ME ALIVE!!! DAMN YOU, TETRANYCHUS URTICAE!!!! Stop sucking on your beer and get a freakin’ pesticide! I need something systemic, quick! And I’M STILL THIRSTY!!! I’m going to die. This is not just a lament. It’s a threat. Water me and get a pesticide or I’ll do it.
Hey, somebody’s watering me. It’s not a gallon of water this time but it’s STILL NOT DISTILLED! Come on, a gallon of distilled water costs like a buck at stop and shop! And wait… something else is coming… Am I being misted?
OUCH!! Not a contact insecticide, imbecile! Didn’t you read the instructions on the bottle? ONE tablespoon per gallon, not twelve! I asked for something SYSTEMIC. That means that I can absorb it into my system and then kill all the stupid urticae at once. Instead, they gave me some stupid soap-based Schultz thing. Humans screw up everything they try to do themselves. They might as well have rubbed Vaseline on my leaves. Now I’ve got leaf burn over 90% of my foliage. They’re asking for it now. How the hell am I supposed to photosynthesize with all my leaves burned off? Starting from scratch AGAIN. Damnit.
What’s this? I’m being watered again, but this time there’s something good. Something real good. I like it. I want more. My cells detect additional nitrogen, some growth enhancers… hey, it’s a fertilizer! Keep pouring keep pouring…..... . . . .. . . ..
Hmmm? Is anybody there? Hey, I’m back in Borneo! The trees are beautiful and shimmering. Oh look, here comes a squirrel. He’s smiling. For some reason this is confusing. What? He’s giving me some water. How nice. Lots of water, lots of water, lots of water. I like water. Water is ggggrrrreeeaaaat.. mmm hmmm. Reeaally greeeeaaat. I really like water. Can I have some more water, Mr. Squirrel? Why, of course I can. Quick, before the evil owl comes and chews on my flower scape… heyyy, I have a flower scape…… I am one sexy devil, yes I am… Look at those priddy flowers. Priddy flowers….. priiiidy flowers…………………………………..
Huh? What happened to my flower scape? Where’s Mr. Squirrel? Hey wait… I’m in some stupid house, aren’t I? And the guy pouring the ferts in. My roots! Where are my roots? OH MY GOD I CAN’T FEEL MY ROOTS! They’re… dissolving!......can’t…..obtain…….essential……phosphates…………………..
I need nutrients. I’m hungry. I’m hungry. I’m hungry. Feed me. Feed me. Feed me. FEED ME! FEED ME!!!!!!!!!