Something About Amanda
by Milderbeast
Trent Lane stood in front of the refrigerator,
peering into the open door. "Nothing," he said disgustedly. "Hmm.
What's that red stuff?"
His sister Jane walked into the kitchen and stood at his side.
"Nothing," she said. "What's that red stuff?"
"Cherry soda?" offered Trent.
"Cranberry juice?" countered Jane.
"Actually, it's blood," came a familiar voice from behind them. The
siblings turned around to see their mother, Amanda, standing behind
them. She was holding a large garbage bag which appeared to be stuffed,
and quite heavy.
"Well, hi Mom!" said Jane. "Uh, what do you mean, blood?"
"From the plant food, dear," replied Amanda. She set the garbage
bag down in front of her childern's feet. The two of them parted
slightly, allowing her access to the still-open refrigerator. She began
rummaging through it, and soft slurping and squishing noises reached
the ears of the two observers.
"Ah, here they are," she said. She pulled her arms out of the bag, and
her children both gasped slightly, and stepped back.
Amanda held a blood-covered human head in each hand. She hummed
softly as she placed them in the refrigerator on top of the red stains,
and closed the door.
Trent and Jane exchanged looks of abject horror with one another,
momentarily speechless. Amanda closed the bag, and picked it up from
the floor.
Jane found her voice first. "W-w-what d-do you m-mean by 'plant food',
Mom?"
Amanda smiled warmly at her daughter. "It's for Moonchild, my new
plant. I was doing night meditations in a beautiful field a few weeks
ago, and a shooting star fell like a sign from above. It landed a few
yards away from me, so I walked over to offer a prayer of thanks." She
fell silent, and a dreamlike, far-away look overtook her face.
"Umm..." said Trent, confused. "What's that got to do with...this?"
He indicated the bag she held. His mother maintained her state of
blissfull unawareness, so Trent snapped his fingers in front of her
face.
Amanda started slightly at the sound, and looked at her son.
"Well," she said, "I went back a few days later for some
re-affirmational contemplation, and there was this tiny little plant
growing out of the hole where the star fell. The poor thing didn't look
like it was doing too well, so I dug it up and brought it home to
nurture. While I was potting it, I accidentally cut myself on the
trowel. The little thing lapped up the blood, and I discovered what it
likes to eat."
"So naturally, you decided to feed the neighbors to it?" asked Jane.
"Oh, those aren't the neighbors, dear. They might be missed, you know,"
Amanda said.
"These are people from communes across the country; they abandon
their persuit of materialistic indulgence to retreat to a simpler
lifestyle. Such people are already considered missing by their former
friends and families, so when they disappear, nobody ever asks about
them."
Jane was slightly torn. A part of her admired her mother's
bloodthirsty logic; the other part was repulsed by the thought of human
heads next to the tuna fish, if there was ever any tuna fish in their
refrigerator.
Amanda smiled at her two children. "Come and see it, it's grown
quite a bit since I first found it." She turned and headed towards the
basement. Trent and Jane exchanged a look, Trent shrugged, and they
followed their mother.
Amanda led them down the stairs, and into the former bomb shelter
which served as her studio. Jane and Trent were shocked at what they
saw.
A massive plant, with hundreds of green tendrils flowing over half
of the floor, stood in a gigantic pot. In the center, atop an enormous
stem, was an immense flower bud at least four feet wide, bending at the
stem to fit beneath the ceiling. Its greenish color gave way to red
lines across its middle, looking for all the world like a huge mouth.
"Whoa!" was all an amazed Trent could say. Jane merely gawked.
"Moonchild, wake up! Mommy's home, and she's brought your supper!"
Amanda said.
To the two youngsters' utter astonishment, the red lines parted, and
the behemoth plant spoke.
"Damn, 'Manda! A plant could starve to death, waitin' to git fed
'round here!" the plant said, in a streetwise voice that sounded like
some sixties soul singer. Jane and Trent saw sharp-looking teeth when
it spoke, and a purplish toungue working behind them to make the words.
"Hush, sweet child, and open wide," Amanda said, "Mommy's got fresh
meat for you right here."
"Suppertime!" the plant cried, and spread it's maw wide. Amanda
dumped the gruesome contents of the bag into it's gaping oriface. The
plant smacked and chewed, grinding flesh and bones to jelly with a
sickening steadiness. It finished with a massive gulp, and belched
loudly.
"That was pretty good, Mama, but they weren't no heads in there. You
forget 'em, or sumpthin'?" the plant asked.
"Mommy's chilling them for your dessert, sweetheart. Be good, and you
might get both of them. Okay?" Amanda purred.
"Hmph. Awright." The plant turned, and cast an eyeless glance at
Jane and Trent. "Who's this? A couple o' side dishes? Come on over here
where I can git a good look atcha!" A green tendril rose from the floor
and made a gesture at Jane like someone curling their index finger to
summon her.
"Moonchild!" Amanda said brusquely. "Those two are your brother and
sister! If you eat them, no dessert for you!"
"Aww..." said Moonchild.
Trent looked closely at one of the vine-like tendrils. He saw many
bud-like protrusions scattered up and down it's entire length.
Inside his head, Trent could hear REM....
It's the end of the world as we know
it.....