Every once in a while I wander through the greenhouse at my local Home Depot. It's so peaceful in there, so many pretty species of luxuriant, tropical paradise plants. I think to myself, "Self, maybe I could just have one, and try to..." and then cold reality hits, and I respond, "No, fool, Just Say No, RUN AWAY, RUN AWAY!".
My track record with living, breathing plants is abysmal. Lower than abyss-mal. It's pretty much a 100% death rate thing. No one is so completely sucessful at killing as I am. Sometimes I kill them quickly, sometimes I take my sweet time. Years, even. I had an umbrella plant that survived through sheer will alone before I hexed it with mighty mites and it died a parasitic death. Well. I needed that corner for something else anyway.
Plants are like people. Each has it's own personality and idiosyncrasies. Issues, even. Some are pathologically self-destructive, and I believe that these are the ones that call to me as I pass by, enticing me with their beauty and lushness..."pick me...pick me...". Most of the time I can resist the call of nature, but sometimes I am weak and cannot control myself and the next thing you know, I am the proud posessor of an emerald and ruby hued jewel of an azalea bush.
My killing method is simple and requires no great amount of planification. It consists of initially giving the plant a perfect place of honor, in full view of visitors. Gradually, as it weakens and becomes more and more beaten down and listless, it gets moved further and further from view, until at last it withers and sulks in a forgotten corner, yellow and dry and completely forlorn.
This saddens me, because it was it's own damn fault. If it hadn't been so beautiful in the first place, and enticed me with it's sinful, glorious beauty to buy it, it wouldn't be dead now, now would it? This is why, in countries where they understand such things, beautiful things are coveted so much that they need to be kept hidden.
Thus, from now on, I shall not cast my gaze upon such sinfulness, but shall keep myself holy and pure by not allowing myself to be put into the position whereby I am weakened and the sin of possession takes hold of me.
And now I must go look at pictures of rose bushes until the blackness goes away.
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