Tuesday, February 17, 2004

Story Time 6:
Morning Glory

That morning, Emmett Frog awoke early, showered, shaved, had a good breakfast, brushed his teeth, loaded his gun and walked out of his apartment onto a crowded street and pulled the trigger six times. His first few shots hit nothing. The last two winged a nun and ruined the shoulder of a used car salesman. Methodically, Emmett emptied the shells from his revolver and reloaded one bullet at a time. He proceeded to fire randomly into the screaming and rapidly scattering crowd. He did this two more times before the police arrived. It took thirteen bullets, fired by five officers to finally stop Emmett Frog. Before they did, he managed to kill five people and injure nine others. Among the dead was a bartender at a local restaurant named John Calamari.

When the coroner examined the body of Emmett frog, he found lodged in his brain pain, a seed, which had recently sprouted into a orchid. The coroner could not explain how the seed had become lodged in Emmett Frogís brain, or how it had managed to grow into a full sized flower, petals and all with no sunlight. Sure, the brain provided ample nutrients, being mostly water and protein but could enough sunlight enter the skull through a manís eyes to provide a seed enough warmth and encouragement to sprout? And how had a orchid managed to grow so large within the confines of one manís cramped and humid skull?

With so little known about the hows and whys of this peculiar flower, the coroner could only speculate:

Like a green house, Emmett Frogís skull had nurtured this plant to the point where it strangled that part of his brain responsible for higher reasoning, logic and appreciation of the arts. Also, a long fingerlike root was found surrounding the part of the brain that governs sexual response, which would account for Mr. Frogís enormous erection and sloppy grin.

However it got there, the flower was listed as an accomplice in the murder of five individuals and a root cause of the violent act, if not the mastermind of the whole sordid event.

Because of a peculiar and old fangled law, the orchid could in that county be charged as an accessory to murder. The District Attorney was at first reluctant to file charges against a plant but the victimís families demanded justice be served, one way or another.

So the orchid was tried, convicted on five counts of accessory to first degree murder and sentenced to life in prison without parole (Haxan County does not consider any living creature with an IQ bellow sixty to be of sufficient sentience to have full knowledge of its actions and so the orchid was ineligible for the Death Penalty. Had the crime occurred in Texas, however, the flower would have been sent to the electric chair, post haste).

The orchid was well cared for by its cellmate, Danny Goodboy, who was serving two years for taking a í76 Pinto for a joyride without having benefit of being the vehicleís owner. Upon his release, Danny found gainful employment as a gardener at a nursery just outside of town where he showed an uncanny aptitude for rehabilitating members of the family Orchis.

The orchid drowned six months later when its new cellmate tried to smoke one of its leaves and set off the sprinklers on that cellblock.


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