floor, unconscious.
"Richard?" Dr Sage regarded the body questioningly. "But, how? Why?"
"Well," I explained, "it almost had to be him. Writers can't just bring people in outta th' blue. Good writers, anyway. And seein' as you, me, and Richard were th' only named characters in th' story..."
"Of course," she agreed. "Thank heaven for authors who follow the rules of effective storytelling and construct logical plots for their tales."
Our problems however were not over. Dr Sage screamed again—
"Good God! Now whut?"
—and pointed to the mixture of liquids making its way toward the terrarium trays. As the substances combined, the experimental sage plants started to move. Soon the entire floor was a wiggling mass of dense woody leaves.
"Oh, Buck!" Dr Sage cried. At least, I think she said buck. "The vat Richard shot with his automatic contained concentrated growth hormones."
I was going to say yer kiddin' but she obviously wasn't. I watched the creeping carpet of leaves wrap itself around Richard's leg. I should have dragged him out of the way, but something else occurred to me.
"Wait. No scientist worth her smock would store somethin' that powerful in a single container. Ya'd hold back one key ingredient as a catalyst so it..."
Dr Sage pointed her eyes at the broken flask, the neck of which was still in my hand.
"Don't tell me...?"
She just nodded. After which she screamed again. This time, however, it was justified. Richard, covered in sage leaves, stood and lifted her in his arms. Although it wasn't Richard anymore: the plants had taken over his body and were using the ambulatory ability it provided. Dr Sage flailed and fought but she could not break the grip of the tendril-like arms encircling her.
I, meanwhile, kept my distance.
"Well?" She called down. "Aren't you going to help me? Isn't that what Texans do?"
"We also stop to think now and then," I told her. The plant hadn't done much other than rumple her clothing, so I took a moment to get a better view of things.
The plant, I mean; not her clothes.
"How come some of th' leaves are purple? Herbal sage is usually green."
"It's a hybrid, remember? I crossed it with desert sage to make it sturdier."
That made sense.
"So, if I wuz to hop on its back, I'd be a rider of th' purple sage?"
I laughed at my joke, thinking it pretty funny. The doctor removed a shoe and bounced it off my head.
"Sheesh!" I got to my feet. "Whut a grouch!" Then I fetched a fire extinguisher and sprayed the thing. I'd seen this in a science fiction movie so I had no doubt it would work. It did and Richard dropped Dr Sage to the floor.
"Well," I pointed out, "at least we know how to defeat it."
The doctor adjusted her clothes and said nothing.
"Unless," I continued, "yer gonna tell me that wuz our only fire extinguisher."
"Bingo," she nodded, as we watched the creature slither out the door.
"You do realize," the doctor told me, "it will grow unchecked unless we do something to halt the infestation. Once it covers the island, wind and sea currents will carry spores to other regions. Soon it will be like—"
She stopped and looked over at me.
I didn't say anything.
"It'll be like..." she tried again.
Still I didn't say anything.
"Well?" She put her hands on her hips. "Aren't you going to say it?"
"No," I told her. "Yer waitin' fer me to repeat th' title of th' story, after which ya'll either slap, kick, or punch me for makin' a horrible pun. And seein' as I already have a headache from yer previous poundin', I'd as soon forego th' punishment."
"Hmmf!" She turned on her heel. Unfortunately she forgot about her missing shoe, so she lost her footing.
But I caught her anyway.
Meanwhile, an idea inched its way to my brain cells. "Suppose we wuz to take th' remainin' plant food and lure Richard into th' volcano?"
"What volcano?"
"Aw, rats! Don't tell me I fergot to mention how Island Number 6,827 is a volcanic atoll with rich organic soil perfect fer growin' bananas and that's why th' Kabayo Banana Grower's sent me here in th' first place."
The doctor shook her head. "So much for good storytelling," she editorialized.
Oh well, it was still a good plan. To be more accurate, it was our only plan. So I scooped the left-over fertilizer into a dish. With Dr Sage limping at my side—she only had one high heel, remember—we got in front of Richard and coaxed him up the mountain.
"Look at me," I grinned. "I'm a sage coach!"
She bopped me with her other shoe. "I was tired of limping," she told me later.
It was a treacherous trek to the top of the mountain. The night was dark and the path uncertain. Nevertheless, the glow of the volcano guided us and we prevailed. We dumped the remaining plant food at the caldera and waited for Richard to slither up to it. Then, when his back had turned, I snuck up behind and tipped him over the edge.
Or as I would like to have said, exit: sage left.
Only fearing the doctor might hit me with a rock, I simply stood by, waiting for it to hit bottom. When it did, there was a bright flare, followed by an aromatic scent of seasoned lava.
Dr Sage and I looked down at the mouth of the volcano.
"It's a shame this had to happen." I inhaled deeply. "That wuz one heck of a herb."
"Oh, well," she shrugged. "I suppose there's nothing to do but start over. After all"—she stooped and handed me a rock—"sage wisdom is not the easiest thing to come by."
And I dare say, not a jury in the world would have convicted me had I used it.
07337
James Hold
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