Flash Fiction: Biological Warfare

The Snarky Gardener has been inspired to write a very short fictional story of around 500 words known as “flash fiction”. And of course it takes place in a garden.

Biological Warfare
Biological Warfare

Biological Warfare

I just love “managing by walking around” outside in my vegetable garden. Checking on every single object in the garden; making sure nothing is out of place. Order is everywhere just like it should be. The straight lines of the broccoli and turnips. The weedless barren soil between the rows, how beautiful. If only the rest of life could be that way, then my world would be perf . . .“Ow! What the hell!” My hand jerks instinctively to my right arm. discovering a wet juicy welt. Glancing down, I find a rotten tomato smashed on the ground. Looking in the direction of the strike, I see no one. “OK jerks! Come out and show yourself!” Has to be one of those damn neighborhood kids. Really? Who throws tomatoes?

Boom! Another projectile strikes the back of my head. Over grown yellow and green zucchini pieces splatter all around me. I quickly duck down, removing myself from the firing line as another zuke flies overhead. Can’t spot where this stuff is coming from but seems to be pretty close. Standing up quickly, the view is unchanged except for some moving tomato vines. I walk a few steps in that direction as I get a fleeting glimpse of something under my plants, Suddenly I stumble and flail back into the black raspberry thicket. “Ahhhhh!” Sharp thorns tear my clothes and skin. Swear I was pushed but again nobody there.

I ungracefully roll out of the brambles and onto all fours, wincing as I move. Don’t trust my feet at this juncture. Crawling slowly, more objects are launched from several directions, some striking my back and legs. Red liquid streams from my wounds; the acid from the tomatoes causing them to sting. Dragging myself along with heavy breathing, I make progress towards the garden gate. Just a little farther and I’ll be in the clear.

Squirming past a flawlessly mulched straight line of jalapenos (oh the perfection), a cloud of pepper spray fills the air, burning my eyes and taking my breath away at the same time. Frightened and disoriented yet defiant, an adrenaline surge hits my system. Rising up quickly, I pull my soil knife from its sheath. In the past, I’ve brandished this “weapon” playing He-man garden warrior, but today it’s for realsies. Wished I had something more formidable as I sense true danger here. The blade’s sharp serrated edge will have to make do.

Soil Knife
Brandishing a soil knife

Stepping backward slowly, pumpkin and cucumber vines trip me up, causing my substantial body to strike the ground hard. “Ohhhh” I moan with a deep searing pain coming from my left side. As I remove the 6 inch steel shank, a river of blood pours out. I struggle to get back on my feet but to no avail. As a black fuzz surrounds my compromised sight and consciousness fails me, a single thought passes through my mind, “They warned me about planting those GMOs.”


So, what do you think? Has the Snarky Gardener lost his mind? Should he stick to writing gardening and permaculture non-fiction? Would you like to see more fiction in the blog?

Let him know at don@thesnarkygardener.com


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