Flowers for Omnomnom

The plant occupied most of Nell Turnbulle’s greenhouse.

Nell stood and smiled at her with a mother’s love. ‘Let’s see what he makes of you, then.’

The plant—all eight feet, thirty teeth, eight tentacles of her—quivered in response. Her pretty blue flowers shook and danced.

Nell smiled. Audrey listened to her mother. Audrey was a good girl. And she would show Grayson that her plant-breeding hobby wasn’t ‘nonsense’ and ‘money down the tubes’. It was a viable business, and it made her happy. It was her own. Of course, even now, Nell noticed that she’d imbued her leaves with her husband’s favourite colour: blue. It was the colour of his football team, so it was his favourite colour. And he’d had the nerve to tell her her hobby was a waste of time. She suspected he wanted her at his beck and call, 24 hours a day, without any distractions. It was why she tended to Audrey first thing in the morning when Grayson was still snoring and farting in bed. And also why she did the same last thing at night—when he’d fallen asleep in front of the TV. That is if he hadn’t gone upstairs to bed without so much as a ‘goodnight’ whilst she stood there ironing or doing dishes. Nell turned back towards the house and cupped her hands around her mouth. ‘Grayson! Can you come out here, please? I have something I want to show you.’

Birds chirped. The wind sighed through the trees. Sunlight shone through the greenhouse’s panes, casting a golden glow over Audrey.

Nell gritted her teeth. Why was it that she had to run like a server whenever he called her? But when Nell called him, he didn’t even dignify her with a response. She put her hands on her hips and marched towards the house. ‘I’ll be right back, sweetie!’ she called to Audrey.

Inside the house, the sounds of football chants filled the air. The noise came from the lounge at a much-too-loud volume. It made even the front windows vibrate.

They couldn’t afford a new washing machine that could handle larger loads. They couldn’t afford a dishwasher, saving Nell time and energy. They couldn’t afford the seeds and watering cans and packs of soil for her teensy hobby. And yet they could afford the latest TV, large enough to smother the entire wall, with a fancy Hi-Fi setup to boot. Nell could go in there and speak to him in his domain. But part of her—that had grown with Audrey—refused. ‘GRAYSON!’

A pause. The din from the lounge quieted a little. ‘Wot?’

The blood pulsed in Nell’s temples. He spoke to her as if she were a nuisance, an annoyance. Not his wife, his life partner, his equal. She forced herself to take a deep breath. And then, in a level voice, said, ‘Will you please come out to the garden with me? I have something to show you.’

‘I’m watching the footy.’

She squinted. It was 11:33. The ‘big game’—if they were all ‘big’, wouldn’t that make them all regular-sized?—started at midday. ‘It’ll only take a minute. Please.’

A dramatic sigh followed by the sounds of a man extricating himself from his favourite chair. ‘Oh, all right, all right. I’m coming. This interruption better be good.’

A muscle twitched under Nell’s left eye. She’d been with Grayson long enough to know that every match had the same preamble. A before-the-game analysis, later followed by an after-the-game analysis. She said nothing of this ridiculousness because she respected him and his interests. So what if it didn’t appeal to her? But—since it had become clear that he didn’t reciprocate this respect—she was ending it. Nell didn’t wait for him to shuffle out of his cave. She marched back outside into the sunshine and the smell of flowers and fresh grass.

The back door opened and slammed behind her. Heavy footsteps and laboured breathing followed. ‘Are you going to get to those dishes at some point today? You know I hate it when you let it get too messy. And what the hell are you doing out here, anyway? The washing line’s not up.’

Nell turned to face her darling husband. ‘It’s in the greenhouse.’

Grayson stood before her in his football shirt, which stretched over his gut. His belly’s bulge distorted the logo. On the back, he’d had his name printed. His lower lip protruded like a pouting toddler. ‘I thought I told you to give that rubbish up. It’s nothing but a waste of time.’

‘Look. It’s a surprise. I’ve gotten a lot better since I last showed you.’

Something in her voice made him look at her like a stranger. After a second’s hesitation, he pushed past her and shoved his way into the greenhouse. ‘What do you want me to loo— OH MY GOD.’

Nell grinned. That was the exact reaction she had hoped for. Gardening had been her dream for so long. She had this silly image of her holding a plant pot with her creation and receiving a ribbon. But something held her back, and she now knew what it was. And that something had a lot of meat on his bones. ‘So, whaddya think? Isn’t she a beauty? Told you I could make something original. Well, now you see. I did have it in me all along.’

But Grayson didn’t respond. He was too busy screaming. Blood splattered against the greenhouse’s panes, pattering like rain. The crimson contrasted with the greenery to excellent effect. A snake of guts burped out the door like a string of purple sausages, only to slurp back in immediately.

Nell sighed. She followed her husband into the greenhouse and put her hands to her face. ‘Oh no,’ she moaned, ‘it’s a disaster, a disaster!’

Grayson was in bits. Audrey was chewing on one of his legs, gripping the protruding bone like a chicken wing. Guts and gore lay strewn around the greenhouse, much of it still glistening and pulsing.

Nell Turnbulle—née Harding—wished she could go back in time to before she had begun to engineer Audrey.

She would look better with pink flowers, not blue.