Don’t leave me this way. I can’t survive, can’t stay alive, without your love. Don’t leave me this way.
I have killed again. I didn’t mean to. I never do. It wasn’t intentional, certainly not premeditated. If anything, I am guilty of neglect. The victim this time? Mr. Schlumbergera Bridgesii, but he was known on the street as Christmas cactus.
I don’t know what my problem is. My mom is an amazing gardener, my grandmother has two green thumbs. Heck, even my brother has a flourishing vegetable garden in his backyard. Somehow, no matter what I do, I kill every plant I own. It’s only a matter of time and opportunity.
This one really hit me hard, though. I thought for sure I was going to have better luck with a cactus. I mean, how do you kill a cactus? They survive in the desert, without water for months on end. But sure enough, yesterday I looked up at the plants on my window sill in the kitchen, and there it was. A shriveled, limp, lifeless corpse that once was a beautiful flowering Christmas cactus.
I’m not your typical serial killer – I imagine that it would be pretty hard to profile me to determine my modus operandi. I really have no particular genus or species that I target. Everyone is fair game, which is what makes me so dangerous. In addition to this cactus, I’ve killed African violets, English ivy, and Boston ferns. I’ve murdered Strawberry begonias, Watermelon peperomia, and Grape ivy. I’d like to stop, but people keep buying me more plants. Why, people? Why? Don’t you get it? I am sick.
I have recently been thinking about ways that I could use my powers for good instead of evil, and possibly turn my kiss of death into a side business. It seems to me that maybe there’s a market for home hospice care for plants. When all hope is lost, when not even Miracle-Gro can perform a miracle, people can come to me. I certainly can’t save your ailing plants, but I know I can make them more comfortable while they’re dying.
Do you have a ficus infested with aphids? I’ll talk to her every day and tell her she’s lovely, even as she drops all her leaves. Have a jade plant suffering from terminal root rot? I’ll play soft music and read him the latest Dear Abby columns from the paper.
You see, I’m trying to change. I want to be rehabilitated, so I’m begging all of you. Friends, family – I know you mean well, but you have got to stop buying me plants. I cannot be trusted. I cannot be stopped. I will kill again. But if you’re interested in the home hospice deal, let me know. I’ll give you a 15% discount if you mention this blog.

Filed under: General on August 26th, 2004