be wary of the thistles at your feet!

read on to find out!

corporate bean sprout (1997)

oh, my! his mother was so proud the day he sprouted from the ground!! sure, she was a little skeptical, much like the rest of the villagers had been throughout the germination process... to think, the only boy ever to take root!

in fact, during the 18-day drought in august, most townspeople were sure that he would shrivel up and die before ever seeing the warm light of day. but, thanks to his mother, who tirelessly carried buckets and pails and even champagne flutes of water to him every day, by september, the worst was over. she was determined to not give up on her son!!

when the day finally came for the ultimate harvest, the villagers gathered, and the media was ready to record the miraculous event. early on, reporters shamelessly dubbed him as the "real-life cabbage patch kid!" does it get any more cheeky or brazen?? (poo-poo on that always-tawdry local tv station!)

when his beautiful head (full of dark brown hair) finally "crowned," the cheers and applause were deafening... townships within a five-mile radius spoke of the riotous clamor... jubilance followed for days, but all his mother cared about was the proper removal of any dirt and minerals from all of her son's nine orifices. so much mud ... so little time...

he cried much of that first week ... splashed with water, prodded with every gardening tool known to martha stewart...

it was an obvious choice to feed the newborn only vegetables; this was the first baby ever to be raised 100% vegan - but his mother wasn't taking any chances. there were no handbooks from dr. spock about this type of baby, and most likely, none were about to hit bookstore shelves anytime soon. so, his mother raised him on instinct, clipping his overgrowth only when absolutely necessary. (in fact, no shears were used until his sixth birthday, if you can imagine!!)

it's been a difficult twenty-some years, but he has matured into quite a nice young ... organism... his mother has even gone as far as to allow him to join the hellish 9-to-5 workforce; he's in corporate management by choice. she's done all she can for her son: taught him the perfect watering schedule, given him graphs and various other visuals for optimal sunlight exposure... she even calls him nightly, just to talk to him. some say this actually helps him survive...

moonlit (1999)

I kept asking myself the same question over and over again... was it the moon that was illuminating the billowing clouds in the sky, or was it her luminous skin? she didn't seem to care one way or another... she was much too interested in unexpectedly showing us her gams, or using that intense stare of hers to her ultimate advantage... she certainly had me hooked from the first moment that I had laid eyes on her months before. I had only intended on visiting the country for a short while, but when I came in contact with her on my third day on holiday, my original travel plans had to be altered.

I purchased many items for her that she ultimately had no use for: a watering can, linen breeches, aromatherapy candles and oils... she politely thanked me, but immediately handed them right over to the minions of underprivileged children clamoring at her beauty. (this just proves that she was a much better person than me. as if that situation needed to be "proven.")

I truly adored her, and wished that I could have brought her back with me to the riviera, but obviously, it was not meant to be. she would never have fit in with the trashy euro-trash crowd. nor would she ever have been happy. so reluctantly, I sold her to the first buyer that came along - no assembly required.

courtesan (1999)

I met her alone in the thick of things. the insects were creating quite a ruckus and their raucous behavior had eventually led me to her rock. she was sitting down, proverbially weeping. I asked her what was wrong - why she was crying - why she was allowing those salty tears to run down those porcelain white cheeks and onto her brilliant crimson silk kimono. guess what? she didn't seem to understand english. (I later found out that she did quite well, thank you very much.)

I brought her to her feet and offered her some of my food and water, which she reluctantly took after some much-needed prodding. her eyes were now empty of tears, and her vibrant glow dried her tender skin from the inside out. I was certainly smitten by her exotic nature. where did she come from? why was she all alone? what brought her, in tears, to that particular jungle clearing?

I persuaded her to join me at my campsite for a night's rest. in the warm glow of my trusty lanterns, my new acquaintance radiated such a startling beauty. she was a woman who owned as much fear as she did allure. how did she keep her hair so impeccably straight without a comb - and especially in this humidity? how did she dress herself in that elaborate gown? (where did she hide that deep cranberry lipstick and pocket mirror?)

she finally spoke up after I started making a fool of myself with my limited spanish, french, and japanese vocabularies... I suppose she could not tolerate my idiotic stupidity any longer. she confessed that she was (hopefully) far from "home." she no longer wanted to be treated like an exotic butterfly. she no longer wanted to be a courtesan.

so then, why did she pour my tea?

ice(sola)tion (2000)

she waits patiently in that cold, permafrost tundra that they both used to call home... she waits and waits for her lover to return... has she no self-esteem? is she just utterly stupid? nope.

she's a capricorn, and all too practical, safe, and hermetic, by nature.

she needs to branch out, perhaps hire a search party to assist in her quest, as her food levels are alarmingly low, and her hand-made polar bear shawl is almost threadbare. but she is as proud as the winter nights are unending, and so she waits, and waits.

maybe if she owned a timekeeping device, she would realize just how many days, weeks, and months have gone by...

she's devoid of any human interaction - her fingers are too frigid to service her long-deserted pleasure needs - and she hasn't had a good, hearty embrace in years. is that why her arms have grown ridiculously long, and her eyes have become increasingly more agape? she's searching for her lover - reaching out to a ghost that may never come back! dreams and memories only last so long. she hasn't realized this quite yet, but she will.

honey, can we see your green thumb? (2001)

the last caravan escaped long ago, but then, she really wasn't interested. she had plans of her own - big plans - plans that didn't include the remnants of the civilization that she had lived with (certainly on the fringe) for oh-so-long. they hadn't asked her to come with them; they knew all too well that she wouldn't have been interested in an invite anyway. aside from that, the ex-desert oasis dwellers were perturbed by her snobby attitude, self-indulgence, and arrogant aura of individuality. how dare she attempt to grow a secret garden meant solely for her own grazing? what absolute gall she had to set up that elaborate irrigation system to syphon off the community's precious water! certainly her sly thievery of the village's scarce supply of seedlings was the straw that eventually sent all of the camels packing...

no one had ever excluded her from any social event at the mirage-like township, so how did she go about justifying her selfish behavior and brash plans? she didn't have to... no one would be left to listen anyway. but again, she couldn't have cared less. she chose not to attend those "miss palm" contests and snake-charming tournaments time-and-time again because she had "better" things to do. terribly rude, no?

so, a few more weeks passed - and finally after many sleepless nights and days of drought, the leaflings began to sprout. our heroine (or villain, however you look at it) was so titillated by the prospect of procuring her very own secret garden that she shouted out gleefully to the tallest sand dunes that she could bore!

all other work ceased. her new sole purpose was to germinate and cultivate - to sow and hoe. the bulbous flowers began protruding before too long, and they soon gave way to gorgeous fruits and succulent melons. after plunging into those delicacies that abounded below her breast, she soon found her fingers and hands perpetually sticky, but ever-so-sweet.

as time passed, it soon became apparent that possibly her self-centeredness had come back to haunt her... when this chick decided on growing a "secret garden" (a place where she could get satiated, and sustenance, in one fell swoop), she had no idea that what she would be creating would be an overgrown, weeded monster... because as the days went on, the garden kept on growing - even without water - which we have already surmised was a rarity in short supply. you see, our gal was growing this garden from within, and it wouldn't be long before the overgrowth's parasitic resources ran dry.

she was certainly doomed... what was once luminous, well-moisturized skin became dry, brittle, and certainly unattractive. what at one time was an illustrious, full blonde head of hair became a pedestal of pre-coital dandelions, attempting their best defense against the sweeping desert winds and violent sandstorms.

but as we all know... you do reap what you sow, and apparently she became open to this "moral-of-the-story" just a little too late. after scavenging all they could from her obliterated body, the garden's hungry roots and vines had no choice but to sink into the desert sands, where it soon became obvious that survival was imminently impossible. our heroine had made her own garden - and now she would die in it.

for more stories, visit these tawdry frights from new orleans...