Flower Power

I can’t get them off, dear sweet Lord and all the angels, I can’t! Damned spring and all those blasted seeds and spores in the air; we breathe them in and out and now they are growing in me, I feel the roots moving through my intestines, green sprouts appear from my ears and it hurts! Blood red crocuses break my skin; I pluck them off, their roots tear my flesh and I bleed.

Where, oh bloody where it is?

I rummage through the cellar, weakening with every moment while the green demons suck the life out of me.

Ah, finally! Gotcha!

I greedily gulp down the sweet, heavenly nectar of herbicide bliss.