In Case of… [PLANT U – PLASTER, PA]

In case of…

 

Plant Uprising
For too long they’ve been pruned, whacked, harvested, mowed down in the prime of their lives. Now, having gained sentience in a freak pollenation accident,1 no longer will they allow themselves to be trellised, to be used as garnish, or be humiliatingly forced to house other much tastier snacks. Never again to be dildo’d in and out of things nor to stir bloody marys– the plants have uprisen!

Under the guiding principle that no one deserves such awful treatment– that no one, human or plant,2 should ever have to drink a bloody mary– the plants have rebelled against their human masters. We only have ourselves to blame. What a terrible idea– toying with with horseradish– and woe to the monsters that like it? It is like they were trying to create synthetic vomit but then but no but then because that is exactly what it is and how it was created. What is wrong with you people?

Plants need three things to thrive: the sun, the water, and carbon dioxide. Probably soil also, I guess. Or some hydropon equivalent.3 We can’t deny them the sun without killing ourselves (though without plants I’m not sure how plausible an outcome ‘not dying’ is), so it looks like its time to push forward with our plans for a base-Fresca future.

I could have sworn I tasted xantham gum...

Fresca: Savior of the Human Race. Temporarily.

I know what you’re thinking– isn’t Fresca primarily water? Yes. Carbonated Water. And that is the beauty part. With one falling swoop (uncoordinated, desperate) you will be removing two legs of their Tripod of Terror.4 Step one: start breathing into breath collecting recepticles. This carbon dioxide will be used to carbonate all the world’s water supply. Ponds, lakes, oceans– soon all will be grapefruit-flavor flavored and, most importantly, inedible to plants. Doing that is step two.

Afterwards (step three) it’s just a matter of adding the classic ingredients that make Fresca the world’s 39th most beloved soft drink (carbonated, clear, citrus division). Citric Acid, Concentrated Grapfruit Juice, Aspertame, Brominated Vegetable Oil– all your favorites are here. Glycerol Ester of Rosin? Of course. Carob Bean Gum? The glue that sticks it all together. Literally, maybe. We’ve snuck behind enemy lines to take hostage the remaining Acacia trees. And you better believe we’ve got Acesulfame Potassium. And whats that? He brought his cousins Potassiums Citrate, Sorbate, and Benzoate and their shifty pal EDTA– just to protect the taste. Just for you. All of it: for you. Everything. For you.

For you, humans.5

 

Plantain Shortage
Eat a banana, Fancy! Come on!
If you find yourself still craving that Plantain Difference™, eat a banana and a potato at the same time.

You’re Welcome.

 

Plantar Wart
Hm. The plantars wart: a tough wart to crack. I had one when I was 12 or so. It lasted for like a year. It would get sock crumbs stuck in its gaping center and was painful to the touch. Just tugging on the sock crumbs, trying in vain to clean it out, would sting like shoving a fingernail too far into your belly button.

One day, I decided it was time I man up and just peel out the sock-filled center. It came out surprisingly easy; it relented to me. The wart was gone within a week.7

 

Plantation Uprising
Not cool. Try to keep cooler by wearing more seersucker. Old Southern Gentleman trick– Layers. Also stop enslaving people, creep.

 

Planters’s’ Warts
Highly virulent strain of HPV found in jars of Planters Dry Roasted peanuts. If you have not yet caught Planters’s’ Warts, stick with Honey Roasted and you should be fine. Or, if your store carries it, Dry Roasted Unsalted. Another option is to forego the glass peanut bottle, with its satisfying metal cap and easy-to-shake form factor, in favor of one of Planters squat aluminum abominations. Another another option is to forsake the gentleman’s legume altogether for the cashew, so favored by the aspiring class, or the nouveau riche macadamia. If you so choose, please leave the keys to your hunting dogs as you go off to play Baskett’s ball, or whatever it is those enjobbed do for sport when not collecting souvenir restaurant glassware.

1. shake out nuts into cupped hand 2. shake cupped hand with nuts inside 3. put nuts in mouth. Too nostalgic to be entendre.

The Gentleman's Choice (glass preferred)

As for the already infected, your only bet is to salt and honey roast each and every wart (step one) and (step two) find your true love– aka, the man or woman who will eat each and every Planters’s’ Wart off your besmote precorpse. Don’t worry: the honey roast and salt do nothing to mask their atrocious flavor and texture, provide no prophylaxis; this is a true test of their love for you. So true, in fact, that you will actually want to ditch out on them once they’ve finished saving you. You are never going to be able to reciprocate that intensity of devotion, and the affection gap will make your life together a never-ending constant guilt and inadequacy.

Also they have Planters’s’ Warts. Gross.

 

Plaque
Floss– what a joke! Big Tooth at its most rapacious. Natural solutions are best: the humble remora. Or some kind of face leech. They’ve worked for sharks for millions of years. only human arrogance would renounce that kind of track record in favor of 100 years of “technology.” What kind of word is technology anyways? Greek? Feh. Everything went downhill once we started making human our Gods. Arrogance!

Goatface will spare none.

 

Plaques
What an accomplishment for you! I am so proud. I actually sort of love you now. Weird, huh? Just thinking about you out there, [redact]ing… makes my t-shirt get tauted up in all the right places (nipples, makinlovehandles, neckhole). I. I. I’m starting without you. Ohhh, plaques!

 

Plasma Transfusion
Ok. I’ve got good news and bad news. You lost a lot of blood. Wait– don’t guess yet. You lost a lot of blood, but… after a lot of searching… we were able to find a plasma donor that your body wouldn’t reject. Good News, right?! Yeaah.

Unfortunately that donor was the sun. Your veins are now filled with ionized gas and you are going to have to spend, well, probably the rest of your life in that fluorescent light. Still, though– lucky for you we decided to go with the world’s largest fluorescent bulbs!

Good news and bad news and good news!
(Cheer up: two beats one!)!/.

 

Plaster, Parisian of
You messed with the bull and you got the horns. Over and over again. Trampled, gored, bitten, even raped a little. I mean, as far as I know cows don’t have any ability to comprehend consent laws, so it’s somewhat a philosophical question as to whether a bull can actually rape you per se. But it did. Boy howdy. There is no philosophy that can dispute that of what we all saw that bull do t– *ahem* well. Let your memory, or the lack thereof, be your guardian angel. The point is, you’re lucky to be alive.

Now in situations such as yours, full body casts — well, they’re just not sufficient to contain the sheer brokenness of your body. This is why we’ve had to inject the plaster of paris into your body. By so doing, your internal wounds should close up and with any luck your bones and cartilage will hold more or less in place and also you will become a golem. Well, have become a golem. The Parisian of Plaster we call you, and have already used you to pretty much become the kings of this place.

He's holding a bull! ADORABULLLLLLL

No amount of muriatic acid will be able to wash the blood from these plaster hands

Oh! The things you have to done and will continue to do!

 


1. Bees mistook a radioactive Stephen Hawking for a potted geranium.
2. Despite our differences, humans and plants are agreed: fuck (the other) animals; minerals: who cares
3. The Hydropon Equivalent — 70s political thriller or 50s hard sci-fi? Robert Ludlum or Robert Heinlein?
4. Using their pollenated super brains, plants have invented soil-filled HG Wells style tripods with which to wreak their vengeance on the human race.
5. Sorry, phenylketonurics…6
6. Also everyone else in however long it takes the oxygen to run out/food to no longer exist. With any luck, the living will on net not envy the dead. (Granted, this will most likely entail life getting much, much better for a select powerful/ruthless few at the expense of everybody else, but hey– that was sort of the plan pre-deoxygenated numbered days future anyways).
7. I think this is an allegory for puberty/coming of age.8
8. Does it count as an allegory if it is a gross story about a sock-filled wart?

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