February 10, 2014. This has been percolating in the back of my mind, all based off the clichéd poem and the thing that I tend to do with flowers (and live plants). I forget to add water to them and they kind of end up drying up in the vase (or dying, as much as I like flowers/plants and taking a lot of close up pictures of them, I have a black thumb).


"Serpentor wants us to meet him and help rescue Cobra Commander from the Joes."

"When?"

"Now."

"James, I do not want to spend Valentine's Day fighting the Joes and potentially ending up in a cell. We have dinner plans tonight!"

"Anastasia, we can't exactly say no."

"So, send some Iron Grenadiers. You and I are keeping our reservations tonight!"


Serpentor stormed through the halls of the Terror Drome, every step reminding him he needed to see the medics for the gunshot wound in his left leg. He gritted his teeth before turning around, and picking up one of the Vipers in a squad that was supposed to protect him. An annoyance insisted upon by Mindbender in case Cobra Commander tried anything. He shook the hapless Viper before throwing him at the wall of the hallway. "Remind me to have a talk with the Baroness and Destro about obedience. This, I command!" he snarled at the Vipers before opening the door to his room and slamming it shut on them.

He leaned against the door, taking the weight off his leg, while thinking of a suitable punishment for the two. It wasn't that they weren't successful in freeing Cobra Commander, after all, but he had plans for tonight and now they were shot. He turned on the light, and opened the door, pleased that the Vipers at least had the good sense to stay out of arms length. "Bring me a medic and hurry up! This, I command!" he said, before shutting the door on them again.

He pushed his hood off his head, and unclipped his cape, shaking it out as he slowly made his way over to the closet. He hung it up carefully and then started taking off his gauntlets, glancing over at the dresser and noticing a vase of dead roses. He paused, and limped over; holding one of the gauntlets with his teeth to free up both hands. He picked up the envelope that was beside the vase, opening it, and pulling out a small cobra shaped piece of stationary. The kind a certain commander insisted on having specially made for him.

Roses are red

Violets are blue

Sugar is sweet

Here is a dead rose for you