The Monster’s Corner: Stories Through Inhuman Eyes

Yes?

Thanks for being nice to me.

No problem.

“I said, walk over to the plant!” said Dr. Prethorius, jabbing the barrel of the revolver into the young woman’s back. She sobbed and pleaded incoherently and fell to her knees.

“Get up! I said, get up!”

“Please!” she wailed.

Dr. Prethorius kicked her. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? Is that what you want? Get up and go see the plant!”

“Please! I have a baby at home!”

Dr. Prethorius kicked her again. “Get up! Get up! Get up! It’s not that hard! Just get up and … you know what? Fine. Don’t.”

He shot the woman in the back of the head. Her entire body went limp.

Dr. Prethorius crouched down next to her. He stared at her for so long that Max thought he might have become one of those zombies he occasionally experimented with creating, but finally he sprang back to life. “Well, that was no good. Shouldn’t have let that happen. Not scientific at all.”

He took her by the hands and dragged her along the path. He stopped in front of Jenny, regarded her for a moment, and then shrugged and looked back at Max. “You might as well have this one. Such a waste.”

Max happily opened his leaves. The doctor pulled the woman to her feet and held her so that her arm was right next to Max’s leaves. He bit it off. The doctor repeated the process with the other arm, then let the woman’s body fall to the ground again.

“Maybe I’ll grind up the rest of her and mix her into the soil,” he said, stroking his chin. “I haven’t used my meat grinder in a while. The gears might be rusty. I don’t know how well it will do on a big-boned girl like her, but the worst that can happen is my meat grinder gets jammed, and that’s really not such a big deal, now is it?”

Dr. Prethorius walked away, leaving the armless corpse between Max and Jenny. Max wasn’t disappointed that his meal had been cut short; after all, two arms was still a feast, even if he would have rather eaten her legs, given the choice. If the doctor ground her into fertilizer, then everybody could enjoy her, including the daffodils — Specimens 195 and 196 — who had probably never tasted a drop of blood in their lives.

But what did he mean by You might as well have this one?

Might as well?

Max couldn’t bend forward and snatch prey like Jenny, but he was far from obsolete, right? He could still bite arms off, or heads, or whatever parts the good doctor wanted bit off. Perhaps he couldn’t bite somebody completely in half or swallow them whole, but why would you even need that skill?

He was still one of the most vicious plants in the greenhouse. By far.

Sorry you didn’t get any, he told Jenny. He usually shares better.

It’s okay. I’m not that hungry.

The pool of blood is getting close. You might be able to bend over and slurp it up.

Thanks, but I don’t need leftovers.

What do you mean?

I’m sorry. That was rude. I didn’t mean anything by it. Jenny bent all the way down to the ground, stayed there for a few seconds, then sprang back to an upright position. I can’t reach the blood yet.

It’s still moving. It’ll get there soon.

I’m really sorry about that. I didn’t mean that your half-eaten meals were leftovers. I’d like to share. Really.

I know what you meant. I totally understand.

Specimen 90 was dug up and discarded the next morning. He hadn’t come out of the ground easily, and finally the doctor had taken an axe to his roots. Most of the specimens perished fairly quietly, but not Specimen 90. He called them all monsters for just watching him die. Said he hoped that the greenhouse caught fire and that they all burned to death.

Max felt sorry for him, truly he did, but there was nothing any of the others could do. Getting to spend time around Jenny had brought some of the pleasure back to Max’s life, and he was secretly relieved when Specimen 90 died after only one night out of the dirt.

The day after that, Dr. Prethorius walked through the greenhouse with a baby. All of the plants grew extremely excited, and Jenny stretched forward as far as she could, but the doctor walked around the entire lab without offering the baby to anybody. He manipulated the baby’s hand to wave good-bye and then left.

I think that was his grandson, said Max. He’s mentioned him before.

Oh well. We can’t expect him to feed us his grandson.

Nope.

* * *

Are you feeling okay? asked Jenny.

Why?

Your leaves are lighter today.

No, I feel fine.

Good.

“Hmmmmm,” said Dr. Prethorius, plucking off one of Max’s leaves — a small one near the bottom. He turned the leaf around, looking at it from a few different angles, and frowned. “Hmmmmm.”

I’m scared.

You’ll be fine, Max.

What do you think he’s going to do to me?

He’s not going to do anything to you. One vagrant in your trap and you’ll be good as new, I promise.

No. I don’t need human flesh to survive. It’s just a treat. There’s something else wrong with me.

Maybe your dietary needs have changed. It happens all the time. You need to stop worrying.

I don’t want to die.

You won’t.

I love you, Jenny.

What?

Max hadn’t actually meant to say that. He tried to decide if it would be better to take it back and pretend that she’d misunderstood him, or leave it out there.

If he was going to die, he wanted to die happy.

I love you, he repeated.

Oh.

Oh?

What do you want me to say?

I don’t know.

I like you a lot, Max. I like you better than anybody else in the whole greenhouse, even the sunflower. You’re my best friend. I just don’t see you in that way.

Okay.

Don’t be mad.

I’m not mad.

Don’t be sad, either.

I can be a little sad, right? It’s okay. I understand. I can’t devour victims as well as you. You need somebody who can be more ferocious.