"Chrissy! Open the door!"
Just as I'm watering my beautiful kumquat and trying to distract myself, the phone beeps, and I growl as I realize that I'm not the only whose day was ruined because of Mr. fungus's annoyingness.
Is this your hot boss shou...
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For all the poor souls who take plants as peaceful creatures, allow me to introduce you to the green warcraft. You see, those little sessile creatures that utter nor word nor complaint are very far from being monks meditating in the sun. As counterintuitive as this may sound, plants fight, voraciously might I add. Take it from the girl who spent all her years studying them.
When in the presence of threatening vegetation, plants tend to bombard their opponent with chemicals that ought to extinguish the chlorophyll out of them. What makes this war remarkable though is how quiet, yet deadly it can be. One second it's all birds chirping, and then boom, venom goes flying in the air as mother nature admires its babies being their elegant Plant Fatale selves.
"Ashton Dhalia, what a lovely surprise it is to see you."
"Briar, long time no see."
Munching on a virtual handful of popcorn, I keep going back and forth, trying to decipher the dynamic of their relationship. As much as I would've loved the teasing material if they were past lovers, something about the way they spitefully look at each other tells me that their issues are far more complicated than a new year's hookup.
There she stands, in all her ginger glory, the blue of her eyes sending chills down my spine as a ring is on the verge of snapping from all the clenching her frail fingers are enduring. If it wasn't for the hurl of venom she splashed when speaking, I would've taken her for a nice lady. She's in a Green household, though. I should've seen the venom pouches attached to her. Stupid plant!
Insisting on staying on the single tile both her feet fit on, she looks at him from head to toe as if she's not seen him in years, "I've heard you're trying to steal my son's company."
"Samuel's been struggling to uphold our father's heritage, can you blame me for saving him?"
Oh my, when did Mr. Fungus' jaw get so tense? Where did the incredibly annoying dude in him go? And most importantly, why is he flashing all sorts of mixed signals? Is he mad or hurt? My radars are out of order at the moment, I can't really see past his poker face. I say this green aura is not healthy for me, I'm losing my touch!
"Blame you? Of course not. Treachery runs in your blood."
Ouch, I felt that deep in my soul. Looking back at Ashton, I find him unmoved, as if he'd heard that speech many times before. That stepmother of his must've not been very nice to him. I wonder if he'd mind me sticking a branch in her eye.
Just as if she'd heard my scheme to poke a hole in her eyeball, she turns to face me, the clicks her heals let out resonating in the room and every bone in me, for that matter. "Ah, you must be Chrysanthemum. Mhm, you do look like her, no wonder you got him wrapped around your finger." The way she tilts her head to the side tells me she's ready to dissect me on the spot. As she takes my hand in hers, she finally concludes, her voice jumping to a higher pitch, "Don't tell me you're Algerian too!"
