Attack of the Giant Tulip
The first leaves to part the soil were thick as the hide of a rhino, the stem, several inches in diameter puckered with growth, expanding to the width of a tree trunk. The ladies of the garden club assumed it was a mutation. It would die before blooming! But, the vascular power of the plant (now as wide as a house) drained the duck pond. Roots engulfed the church basement, swelled to plug sewage pipes.
At the tip of the central stem a great bud had begun to form.
The first calls to "cut it down!" began. For a flower it was unseemly. Not elegant, not delicate, a beastly vegetable with none of the charms of dainty pansies or cherry blossoms.
But, its peculiar nature also served to protect the strange plant from the ax and the chain saw.
The ladies of the garden club knew *objectively* none of the flower shows could denny them a trophy now. (How they imagined to pot and transplant the plant to be shown, I do not know.)
In the balmy days of July the growth continued. Now the great tulip seemed less intent on swallowing the town whole and focused on refining and strengthening its existing form. The leaves darkened and acquired a pattern of fine glossy scales with sharp edges. The stem was ringed and decorated with blade-like ridges of such a vibrant, bright, neon-green that they seemed to glow for several hours after sunset, tattooing the plant with a tracery of graceful swirling geometric curves.
Thorns formed at the base of the leaves, and around the collar of the bud.
The bud darkened, and seemed to shrink, as if tightening itself like a spring, as if winding up to deliver a punch.
What would happen when the bloom was unleashed?
Perhaps is was this fear and question that lead Thurston, who lived two houses down to try his hand at taking a chainsaw to the plant.
Later some would say that he wanted to steal the flower, to sell it, but personally I think he was just frightened.
A chainsaw isn't the right tool for cutting wet vegetable matter. The application of gnashing violence to the the stem resulted in masses of sticky green pulp, the wet plant matter piled up around Thurston's knees, it clung to his face and arms. No matter how hard he pressed the chainsaw into the stem he failed to make significant progress, and only released more of the sticky green material.
And laced as it was with those bladed ridges he soon found himself covered in fine cuts.
According to the coroner, who had to be called in from Trenton, the cause of death was anaphylactic shock. Thurston had an undiagnosed allergy to the pulp of tulip stems.
But, I don't think anyone really believed that was all there was to it.
The man had tried to kill the plant and the plant had fought back and gotten the better of him. The plant had taken revenge.
In only a few days you could hardly tell that an attempt to cut that great stem had been made at all.
[to be continued]