|"Infestation" (standard:horror, 1940 words)|
|Author: Gerald Sheagren||Added: Dec 20 2003||Views/Reads: 3081/2145||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Carl Dahlgren has always had a fear of weeds, even the most tiny of them. Not long after purchasing a new house, his fear will turn into a horror that will ultimately take his life.|
Infestation By Gerald Sheagren Carl Dahlgren drove his Porsche up the tree-lined drive, marveling at his two acres of lush green lawn. The flower beds were in full bloom, a virtual rainbow of colors; reds and yellows, violets and blues and creamy-whites. He had always had a green thumb, even as a child. On his twelfth birthday, he had wished for and received gardening equipment in lieu of a twelve-speed bike. At thirteen, his roses had won first prize in the national 4-H fair. He suddenly slammed on his brakes, his eyes squinting into the distance. Was that a weed he saw, way over there next to his azaleas? Jumping out of the car, he slowly approached the spot, eyes narrowing, lips set in a tight line. He stopped short of the multi-leafed aberration, circling it slowly, like a lion stalking its prey. Round and round he went, mumbling under his breath, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. This was impossible! Only yesterday, he had smothered his lawn with a specially-formulated weed killer; success guaranteed, or “your money happily refunded.” “Charlotte!” The front door was flung open a few moments later, his wife rushing onto the porch. “Look at this, Charlotte! Come over here and just look at this!” Frowning, his wife hurried over and directed her attention to where he was pointing. “It's only a weed, Carl. My God; the way you screamed my name, I thought you were having a heart attack.” “Damn near it. Just look at that monstrosity, screwing up my whole, entire lawn! It's like a ----- like a big, juicy zit on the tip of Julia Robert's nose!” “Oh, for heavens-sake, Carl.” Charlotte dropped to her knees, dug her fingers around the weed and yanked it up by its roots. “See how simple it is?” She shot her arm out toward Carl, growling, as though the weed was a rabid animal about to bite him. “How could God have plagued the world with such things?” “If you haven't noticed, he gave us lice and maggots and serial killers and terrorists. Not to mention, poison ivy and dandelions and skunk cabbage.” “I'm going to spray the entire lawn again, after supper. This time I'll really give it a bath.” “This is a new house and an even newer lawn. Give everything a chance.” Charlotte rolled her eyes, letting out a weary hiss of breath. “It was only one itsy-bitsy, solitary weed and an unhealthy one at that. Park the Porsche and come in to eat. We're having your favorite; prime rib, baked potatoes and asparagus.” “One weed will breed others. It's like a bad family moving into a good neighborhood.” That evening, Carl sprayed the whole lawn with an extra-strength dosage of weed killer, completely saturating the spot where he had found the lone culprit. Charlotte watched from the front porch, in her rocking chair, wondering a bit uneasily what had ever given her husband such a fear of weeds. Or, for that matter, anything that even came close to resembling a weed. To call it a “phobia” would have been putting it mildly *** ** *** ** *** ** The next day, as he was approaching the house, Carl gasped, very nearly loosing control of the Porsche. His lawn, his whole beautiful lawn, was totally infested with weeds and every facsimile! Big and small and Click here to read the rest of this story (186 more lines)
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