EVER SO PERFECT

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This is my Friday Fright this week for DarkMedia and the Friday Frights website. The prompt was little green killer kids. 


Ever so Perfect



     The big day looms. Cheyenne is going to have an enormous zoo with free-roaming animals and exciting enticements for those young and old. What makes this zoo special is that it surrounds a huge botanical garden laden with tropical rain forests, exotic birds, and swinging monkeys. Every form of vegetation on the planet is here, and although it looks completely natural, modern technology has to assist with artificial climate control.

     Wow! The city of 56,000 sitting at 6,000 feet altitude, and primarily situated within a high desert climate would hardly seem to be a place for such an extravagant undertaking.

     However, this magnificent place goes far beyond satisfying the needs of the city. The huge domed greenhouse beckons to the country. Situated at the convergence of Interstate 25 and Interstate 80, being nourished by a busy rail line recently adding passenger lines to feed the zoo, and 100 miles from the Denver Metro area – with a super airport and flights running to Cheyenne on a constant basis, this magnificent place plans on bringing huge tourist dollars into the city.

     Oh, yes, and into the pockets of JC James, entrepreneur supreme and a man of indescribable wealth.

     He walks through his masterpiece of botanical and animal majesty the day before it is to open, smiling at the perfection of his master plan. It was so easy to convince the Mayor and City Council to allow him to build here. How could they have refused? There was enough long green for everyone.

     “Yeah,” he thinks, “for the right price, I can buy anyone. I always have.”

     The huge hotel he built to handle the tourists is filled to the hilt, everyone wanting to be amongst the first to go into the zoo after the cutting of the ribbon tomorrow. More money to flow into JC’s coffers.

     After finding everything to be as he wants, JC gives a few last minute instructions to his security staff before walking across the street to the hotel. For all his money, he prefers to live in the pent house on top of the building. The entire floor is his, complete with a private elevator.

     Big day tomorrow, so he has a couple of whiskey sours and jumps into bed. Living alone makes it easy for him to decide his own schedule. There is no need to placate the desires of anyone else. Life is all about him. Fuck everyone else.



                                                  *    *    *    *



     Off in one corner of the botanical gardens, a huge tree sits, seemingly convulsing within itself, sending out emanations of pain and distress. The security force doesn’t appear to pick up on this; nor do the sensors scattered about. The pitch is higher than either human or machine can pick up on. And when the guards do walk by, the tree’s pulsating movements have ceased.

     Up through the soil they come, pushing everything to the side until they reach the surface. For a few moments, there is no movement on their parts. It doesn’t last for long. They rise up and shake the dirt off.

     The monstrous tree is proud of her newborn children. They are so healthy and already look strong. And why not? Is it not more difficult for reproduction to occur when children have to fight for every last breath beneath the surface before life-giving oxygen is finally allowed to enter their lungs?

     Yes, children born like that are fighters from the beginning and much more able to do what it takes to survive. But what does it take for these green plant children to survive? They are born from a tree and fathered by a human: one not particularly happy about the procreation process. Much like certain spiders, this mating was forced and the unfortunate dad was killed at the culmination of his orgasm.

     An insatiable desire for food overcomes the kids, but what do they eat? They can not suckle on a tree. What then?

     The answer comes quickly when the next guard walks by. Oh, the sweet odor of warm blood flowing beneath the veneer of thin skin! A throbbing heart forcing the sustenance they desire and need calls to them, saying, “Get me now. I’m yours.”

     They do not refuse the offering. Before the guard knows what hit him, they are on the unfortunate one, biting deep into him with razor sharp teeth, so completely removing the life giving fluid from his body that nary a drop reaches the ground.

     But . . . but more! They need more blood! There are twelve of them and this hapless guard was nothing more than a snack.

     The animals in the zoo are attacked next, but their blood does not compare to that of the human’s. All is clear now: the blood of those like their father is what they need to get stronger. The desire for the higher form of nutrition drives them crazy with desire.

     Across the prairie separating the zoo from the mega hotel, the sweet scent of supplication drifts through the evening air. The green killer kids smile, knowing there is plenty for all of them to eat here.
  
     The hotel staff doesn’t know what’s happening when they walk into the lobby. At first, they think it’s some kind of a joke, some sort of big promotional scheme thought up by JC to drum up more anticipation for tomorrow’s festival. But the kids, or midgets perhaps, do not seem normal. Makeup or not, there is something driving them, and they advance behind the counter and attack the employees, once more engulfing their blood so thoroughly that none is spilled. Shrunken bodies, with eyeballs seemingly half in and half out of their sockets, are stacked up like cord wood, never to see again.

     And yet, the desire for more of the life giving red milk present within these humans can not be abated. Many are stricken; none will rise again; the grand opening tomorrow is fast becoming a non-event.



                                                    *    *    *    *



     JC is having a difficult time sleeping. “It must just be the anticipation of what will happen tomorrow,” he thinks. He tries calling downstairs for room service to send up another bottle of VO, but no one answers.

     “Damn! It’s hard to find good help anymore,” he thinks. “The slackers are either asleep or just not attending to their duties.”

     Enraged, he gets dressed and jumps into his private elevator. The sight awaiting him in the lobby causes him to retch, and while he is bent over a trash can, they wrestle him to the ground. They might be small, but they are strong.

     “What the . . .!”

     They carry him across the road, kicking and screaming, but no one will hear him now.

     Into the dense greenery of the greenhouse they go: right to where their mother waits.

     “Oh, you are such good children!” she says, as she takes JC into her waiting branches and forces him in close to her. 

     Her chlorophyll pheromones work their magic, and he falls under her spell, unable to resist her. The copulation is short and sweet and, once more, at the moment of his orgasm, a branch cuts through his back and out of his body via his heart.

     Her newborns rapidly suck out his precious nectar and leave once more. Cheyenne is not safe. The green killer kids need more sustenance. After all, this is not a large city. More green killer kids will be born.

     And . . . and the gestation period of their mother is short.



Blaze McRob