This piece was performed at our most recent forum by the very same Lee Friedman that won our space poetry contest! If you’re ready for a side-splitting short story, read on!
I was just trying to buy a fucking plant. But apparently that was too goddamn difficult for the world today, because no one had thought to tell me it was a Thursday which meant that the circus of little hipster kids with their carts of vegan, organic, recycled, non-GMO, can-you-even-call-it-food-at-this-point were surrounding the square and blocking Grafton Street. Isn’t that against some kind of building code or something? Traffic Laws? No? Maybe they lift those on Thursdays.
You know, it was a Thursday that had gotten me into this mess in the first place. It was last Thursday, in fact, when some asshole had decided to steal my fucking plant. I had gotten this kick-ass little cactus from my mom who literally never sends me anything so I was like fuck it, I’m gonna keep this little cactus and I’m gonna water it and put it on the windowsill and call it Jerry. Jerry the kick-ass cactus. But some asshole musta climbed up the goddamn fire escape and swiped Jerry right off the window ledge like some kinda plant-stealing ninja and because I’m a really fucking neglectful parent (blame my mother who literally never sends me anything) I didn’t notice until last night which brings me to today where all I want is to go down to that little flower shop on Grafton and buy another goddamn cactus. But I can’t. Why? Because it’s a Thursday. So instead I’m gonna have to walk down Babson until I get to the other flower shop which is not as nice and not as cheap and a struggle and a half just to get to. But you know what? I had committed, I had made a goddamn commitment to getting a new cactus and nothing, not even the day of the week was gonna stop me.
So I hauled myself down Babson which went on for-fucking-ever until I finally got to that dumb flower shop called Penelope’s Flower Emporium which just sounds like it’s run by a two-year-old on acid. So I go up to the shop and I pull on the door but it won’t open so I yank on it and then I yank on it harder and then I raise my hand to hammer on the door when some kid smoking across the street like he thinks he’s cool (I mean come on, everyone and their mother knows that shit fucks you up) yells, “They’re closed, idiot!” And I’m about to walk across the street and show that lung-cancered prick just who’s an idiot when my brain actually registers what he says. So I actually look and what do you fucking know it says, ‘Closed on Thursdays.’
Now at this point, I’m ready to fucking start a war against Thursdays because fucking goddamn when I hear some dude whisper in my ear, “Looking for something?” And of course I jump thirty feet in the air because who does that? And I turn around to whack whoever thinks it’s cool to whisper in some dude’s ear like a creeper but the guy in front of me looks straight out of a storybook. Not even fucking kidding, he’s all hunched over, crooked teeth, wearing a goddamn cloak, and he asks me again, “Looking for something?” His voice sounds like fucking sandpaper being scraped against a chalkboard, and I’m about to high-tail it outta there because believe it or not I got some self-preservation instincts when this weirdo pulls something out of his cloak and holy fucking shit it’s Jerry and I know it’s Jerry because it’s got that dumb half-bent arm thing that looks like a dick. My little kick-ass cactus is sitting there in that freak’s knobby little hands and I reach out to rescue him when the bastard yanks his hands away going, “Ah, ah, ah!” like he’s my fucking mom or something. Now I’m really about to whack him when he puts Jerry back in my hands saying in his sandpaper voice, “You must only feed it when the clock strikes twelve.” And I’m like, yeah, sure, whatever you fucking want just give me my fucking cactus already and he finally lets go of Jerry and thank the fucking lord because at least this trip was worth something. So Jerry and I make the trek back to my tiny-ass apartment and I put Jerry back on his window sill only inside the apartment so any fire-escape-climbing, plant-stealing ninja is gonna have to break a goddamn window if he want any fucking cactus. And I’m about to water it when I remember the wacko saying to only feed it at midnight. And I’m like, fuck it, if the weird-ass wizard man can magic my cactus into his cloak then maybe he knows a thing or two about plant care. So I wait around and kill some time until it’s midnight which means HALLELUJAH IT’S NOT THURSDAY ANYMORE. So I water Jerry and that’s that. Time to go to bed and be done with this god-awful day.
But then I wake up one day, and I look where Jerry is like I do every morning (who’s a neglectful parent now motherfuckers) and I see—
I can’t even begin to describe what the fucking hell I see. It’s like Jerry’s been replaced by some kinda monster some kinda thing and I want to scream or cry or hide under my bed like a child but then I take a look at my clock. And what do you fucking know. It’s Thursday.