Bub The Slayer

My parents visited yesterday, bringing with them an orchid.

For me.

To nurture.

To lovingly tend.

It’s so pretty.

And delicate.

I’m gonna kill it.

I don’t mean kill it as in pre-meditated murder, but a charge of manslaughter (or should that be plantslaughter?) due to wilful neglect would definitely stand up in court. It would be a fair cop - they would have me bang to rights and I’d go daahhn.

I do not have a good record when it comes to houseplants, and the main reason the plants in the garden survive (and I use the term survive very loosely) is because it rains.

Over the years I’ve had various houseplants, and managed to effortlessly wipe out all of them.

Like Grumpy and Dopey can sense when a visitor doesn’t like cats, plants can sense I’m not good for their physical and mental well-being, and start wilting almost immediately.

I think if there were a charity called, oh I don’t know, something like - Action For Undeserved Cruelty or the Killing of Undefended Plants (AFUCKUP), I’d almost certainly be very near the top of their list of people banned from keeping houseplants.

I eventually recognised I was the one at fault, so to give innocent houseplants a fair crack at life, I gave up keeping them. After all, they didn’t ask to be bought into the world, so why should I keep, albeit unintentionally, annihilating them.

Houseplants all around the country gave a collective sigh of relief, safe in the knowledge I wouldn’t be committing any more acts of planticide (I thought I made that word up, decided to Google it - others have beaten me to it. Gah).

But a few weeks ago, on a whim, I bought a Boston Fern which I have to say, started quaking in its pot when it saw me reaching for it. I lovingly crooned that it would be ok, I’ve changed my ways. Its companions on the shelf in the shop looked at it with much sympathy, but at the same time thanked Hegemone, a Greek Goddess of plants, that it wasn’t them being taken to their doom.

So far, I can report the fern is okay. Having said that, I couldn’t remember the last time I watered it, so I’ve just done it.

It weakly waved its fronds at me to say thanks.

Back to the orchid.

I looked at it, then looked at my mum with much apprehension and pointed out that to leave it here would be giving it a certain death sentence. Between us we decided it was in the orchids best interests to take it back home Down South with her.

The orchid exhaled noisily at its stay of execution.

My parents left, forgetting the orchid.

The orchid wailed.

I looked at it and just knew the people from the mythical AFUCKUP would be getting the court order ready.

So now I have an orchid.

An orchid for heaven’s sake.

A plant with a reputation for being difficult to look after.

It’s got less than no chance of survival with me.

Start praying to Hegemone.

The orchid is.

I can't be arsed.