The gift looked innocent enough. The speckled green skin had evenly space ridges running up and down its sturdy length. The size was rather larger than one expected but still, it looked usable. So I happily took it home at the end of an enjoyable evening with friends and set it on the kitchen counter. Easing off to bed, I dreamt about the recipes I might wish to try on the morrow.
That was my first mistake.
During the night, I heard several thumps from outside my bedroom but did not get up to investigate. I am very used to assigning blame for all sorts of bumps in the middle of the night to my wayward cats. I slept the sleep of the untroubled and did not rise on Sunday morning until well past eight.
This was my second mistake.
My first clue that something was amiss occurred as I tried to open the door into the kitchen. The door would not budge. Examining the door, I noticed edges of green leaves peeking out between the louvers.
What the hell?
I opened the front door and rushed outside to look into the kitchen window. A jungle had invaded my kitchen. Vines and huge leaves the size of dinner plates were packed into the kitchen space. It looked like an overgrown terrarium. Wedged under a particularly ominous leaf in the corner of the window was one of the cats looking panic stricken.
What the hell indeed. Does one call the fire department in cases like these? Help me, a well intentioned gift from my friend has grown out of all proportion? Literally? My momentary indecision proved to be my last mistake.
A loud crash was heard from inside the house. Hurrying back in, I saw the kitchen door in pieces and giant vines twining towards the ceiling. A cat raced past me and out the front door. I heard a groan above me as the ceiling began to buckle. I grabbed my purse and followed Buffy. Cats, while often mischievous, are not stupid. My hand shaking, I opened the car door and put the key in the ignition. Another crash from within the house compelled me to put the car in reverse and step on the gas. My last glimpse of my formerly happy home was of fronds of greenery springing out from a hole in the roof.
Beware of gifts from friends. And when in doubt, call the National Guard.
This is a guest post from my dear friend Jann McKenzie who I recently gifted with an overachiever-sized zuke. Although she’s outing the secret world domination plots of zucchini, she insists she’s not anti-vegetable and has been known to think green herself…