A long time ago I began to write a story about an angry, potted plant and his friends. This was one of the first stories I remember writing but unfortunately, at this point, I only really remember the basic premise. So now, about fifteen years later, I am going to use what I remember to re-write the story and find out what happens. Onward!
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Mr. Robot, the anthropomorphic potted plant, sat alone on the cold, concrete floor of his airplane hangar and pondered to himself with no small amount of steeped frustration at his predicament. It had been twelve long days since his maid had last stopped by to clean his floors and, of course, move him around. Being confined to a two decimetre high clay pot did not lend itself well for locomotion and forced the Campanula to rely on the kindness of others. An occurrence he could not reliably count on due to his disagreeable attitude. So he often resorted to intimidation instead. Perhaps that is why she hadn’t returned, Mr. Robot thought to himself, straining to even remember his maids name.
“Hello?”
he shouted. Having no lips you’d think it would be difficult for him to speak
but that hadn’t stopped him before. Fortunately, the fact that he had eyebrows
helped to display his emotion; that had always been enough. His shout had
echoed several times since he spoke. He had very little in the way of furniture
for to absorb any sound. Living in a nearly empty airplane hangar had that
effect. The large door to exit his home was several metres away; the most he
could possibly travel by himself was approximately zero anythings.
If only my crate of dynamite wasn’t so far
away, he thought as he stared at the small crate labeled “BOOM” about a
half a metre away. As the tiny flower strained his light green right leaf
towards the box in desperation he heard a noise. Raising his dark eyebrows in
hope and anger he shot his yellow, bulbous head towards the door. Finally, she’s returned! I’ll lower her pay
significantly for this... Mr. Robot discontinued his train of thought upon
the realization that he had stopped paying his maid about twelve days ago,
around the time she had last did something to displease him. This could explain
so much.
His
maid did not walk into his airplane hangar. A young man named Jeremy the Human
did. Jeremy was human; a rather mundane and predictable title yet accurate.
Accuracy was safe in this world. Mr. Robot had no time for safety and therefore
no time for Jeremy. “What do you want?” he bellowed angrily at the human. Then,
reminding himself that Jeremy’s human arms could be useful to him as a mode of
transportation, he leveled his voice and finished, “My best friend Jeremy?”
“Did you
know Vincent the Nameless Snake is missing?” asked Jeremy. The boy walked
swiftly across the length of the hangar towards the plant. He was young for a
human, Mr. Robot assumed and of average height for a human, Mr. Robot assumed
and perpetually wore the same t-shirt and shorts. Mr. Robot wore nothing, being
a potted plant and all, but if he did he would show some variety.
By this
time Jeremy had come to sit cross legged on the floor directly in front of Mr.
Robot with both fists propping up his chin as his elbows rested upon his knees.
Show off, Mr. Robot thought, bending those human appendages and whatnot. It
was at this time that Mr. Robot had determined that the boy was waiting for an
answer. “Of course I knew that!” he shouted. He actually did not know this at
all but he would never let that become apparent.
“No one
has seen him for over a week.” Jeremy informed, “I think we should look for
him.”
“What a
terrible idea.” The plant responded with distain. Mr. Robot did not have time
to search the world for a missing snake even if this particular snake was well
liked by most and worked at the post office. The post office! How could Mr.
Robot forget? He had been expecting a package for days now. No wonder he had
not received it. “We must find Vincent the Nameless Snake!” exclaimed Mr. Robot,
stretching his little leaves towards the sky.
“Huzzah!”
Jeremy jumped to his feet and began to dance, “I knew you’d be the one to save
the day, Mr. Robot!”
Mr.
Robot immediately began to dance as well. There were literally thousands of
rules Mr. Robot lived by and one of them was ‘never turn down an opportunity to
dance’. Although his dance mainly consisted of his slender stem wiggling rhythmically
as each of his delicate, light-green leaves punched the air. He held his large,
yellow head back swaying it with his eyes closed. Both he and Jeremy danced for
nearly thirty minutes. A victory dance! Until suddenly there rang a bell...
“You
don’t have a door bell.” said Jeremy halting his dance immediately and shooting
a surprised look at Mr. Robot.
“I don’t
have a door bell.” echoed the plant with incredulity and wonder. “Quickly,
human, to the door!”
Jeremy
nimbly grabbed the plant and balanced Mr. Robot on his head. Then the young man
darted across the room and with one swift kick leveled the door with explosive
force.
From
his vantage point Mr. Robot, having first been pleased with Jeremy’s brash
action and show of incredible, super-human strength, suddenly became alarmed at
what he saw having just now been crushed by a large, metal door of an airplane
hanger, “Human, what have you done?!”
“On
noes, Mr. Robot where did you go?!” shouted the human.
TO BE CONTINUED
