The Potted Plant

I was extremely drunk today and bought a potted plant. Given all my mental diseases* I feel I can kind of relate to the joker, and the following story came spewing out of me with no reguard for decency... The only way things should spew. I also don't own the charecters.

*I rather enjoy them. No reason to give them a bad rep.

Wonky.... Its my new favorite word. I don't remember what my favorite word was before it, or if I had one. Where most people might tell you life is wonky, I'd whisper into you're ear (after I cut it off and walked a few blocks to see if it worked like a walkie talkie), that wonky is life. Nothing ever works, everything is fluidic. People cry at my approach because dealing with me is like listening to a song by The Beetles, after eating the brown acid. Incidentaly, I have nothing but hugs for those who eat the brown acid. They make for the best company, and are the closest thing I've found to intellectual equals.

Wonky, where am I? I made a mental note to pay more attention to the universe next time I created it to avoid situations like this. Nearby on the TV a documentary about the branch dividians in Waco, Texas was playing. I grimaced. After a few minutes I learned that that situation had ended in more than a hundred deaths. I don't remember creating it that way. I'd have to pay special attention to that detail after my handsome shell died years from now and re-created everything. Things were losing continuity it seemed, so maybe it wouldn't be years until the collapse of my univers when this shell died. I can specifically specifying that the Waco incident was to end in an explosion, not a fire, and there were supposed to be three more casualties. I'm certain of it. It seemed I had problems controlling cults. I hated them for it, and in my dingy apartment I lashed out in rage and knocked over the tv. From this new angle the fire on the screen seemed to by going straight up instead of being carried by the wind over the compound. Having been turned over on it's side the disaster was much easier to appreciate. I hugged the television to myself, spreading my cheerful laughter through the building.

Sadly, when I hug a TV to myself I can't see whats going on on the tv. I quickly lost interest in what it was doing and decided it was time to cut the cord. Literally. I pulled out a knife and cut the cord that went to the wall. The trick with this was to do it as fast as possible, because if you did it slow the circuit would complete through the knife and travel up my meat-tube-with-little-tubes-at-the-end, freezing me in electric shock. I'm not much good when in the grips of electrical shock. Instead I cut the cord quickly, and delighted as the electricity arced up my arm, numbing half of me. I hit the ground laughing and in spasms.

Next my attention turned to herbert. Herbert is only a thing, so no capitols for him until he becomes something more. herbert is a plant on my windowsill here in- wherever. He has been there as long as I can remember, and I hate him because we don't share the same interests. I'm never sure what species herbert is, or if I've even created him yet. Thin green stalks grow upwards towards tiny little branches that spread out into groups of five leaves. He isn't pot though, his leaves are too long, and once when I tried to smoke him he became quite upset and made me cough. He was not something to be smoked. Newer branches on him had this wonderful quality, like reptile legs stretching out away from the body. I only water him out of interest to see what happens. I decided now was an appropriate time to water him. I drizzled a soggy sponge over him, slowly squeezing it out and hoping to see some sort of reaction.

"You drink too much." I told herbert as the soil around his main stalks grew dry again. I poked my head out the window, ensuring he was getting proper sunlight. It didn't look like there were any buildings I needed to dispose of in order to let him photo-pornagrapgh the sunlight. Nothing was casting shadows across him. I gripped the stalks and shook them, coming face to leaf with him. "I know you're going to do something fun, something interesting so hurry up and do it already!" I growled at him. A few dried leaves fell from him back to the soil he sprung from. "Good, good!," I crooed, "just weakness leaving the body." Wind blew, and his remaining leaves blew back and forth like he was laughing at a bad pun. Suddenly herbert wasn't very funny. I lost interest. Rather, my interest changed gears. Obviously herbert who had never done anything but laugh at bad puns was not the company I wanted to keep. I had standards.

I dissapeared into the apartment, and a few minutes later approached him again. This time instead of a moist sponge I had a bottle of italian salad dressing in my hand. I took the top off of it and poured it over herbert. I drenched him in it and he shook in fear. Now I had been provoked.

"Now now." I said as I slowly drew the blinds, cutting him off from the sun before I cut him off from life. "You never do anything interesting. Now we're going to see how well you can do impressions. The first one I want you to try, is a salad!" I laughed at him as I ate leaf after leaf, working my way down the stems to the dirt. The dirt was soaked in dressing and in my universe no one wastes dressing. I didn't want to eat the dirt myself, but rules are rules. If I didn't follow them what kind of example would that be? By the handfull I ate the dirt herbert was planted in. It took some time but when I finally stood up my mid-section didn't want to stretch out and let me stand. I tried to get to the kitchen, to get a knife and cut a hole in myself so I could see what was going wrong. It must have been those little white food pellets in the soil. I didn't create those, so it must have been the bat. Every time I remake the universe he makes things I don't like. Those things were bad for me. Halfway to the sink I collapsed.

My eyes were closed for a little while, leaving me trapped inside my shell. I was vulnerable now, that was my weakness. Sometimes the shell fooled my mind into thinking things were actually wrong with me. Stab wounds, gunshots, extreme road rash. I couldnt seem to go a week without my body making up fake issues to try and keep me sitting back and getting fat. My insides were still trying to act hurt. They were still in knots and performing in ways I was on satisfied with. I clutched my stomach to myself as founts of mud bubbled up through my mouth. Next time I make a universe there will be no vomit. I rolled onto my back, laughing inbetween the dry heaves.

"Herbert!" I called. "Finally you do something interesting! You get a capitol on that name of yours!"

I have no idea where this came from.....