Fertilizer

Axel Kerodon spent the majority of his retirement in his relaxed nook, the front porch, watching dogs chase passing cars and neighbors stroll by while he packed and lit his pipe and rocked back and forth on the oak rocking chair he hand-crafted. Everyday was just about the same, he would leave only for three things: to use the restroom, to water the lawn by hand, or to do a chore for a dark noon hen.

The dark noon hens were the women in Hanna Kerodon’s bridge club. They met each Sunday at noon to play and gossip, but always ended up doing more gossiping than playing. They often baked double chocolate chip fudge brownies and ate them by the mouthful. Axel once tried to eat a brownie and was quickly scolded by the women. It was like a flutter of hens had been scared by an intruding wolf. Needing an escape he made the mistake of telling his wife, “Hanna, I’ll be in my relaxed nook if you need anything,” and he left empty-handed of a delicious pastry dessert.

Throughout the hour they would constantly stand over him, casting a shadow despite the lack of shadows in the noontime sun. He had called them each a dark noon hen ever since and the dark noon hens had never stopped asking for chores to be done while he relaxed in his nook.

One chilly spring morning after the sun had raised and he had his coffee prepared, Axel threw an afghan over his shoulder, brought out pipe and began to sip from his mug. When he finally began to shake the sleep from his body he noticed a small boy sitting on the steps of the porch looking up at him.

“You’re the boy from next door?”

He nodded.

“What have you got there?” Axel pointed to a small box that the boy was clutching.

“Biz Hammertoes died. My mom said I couldn’t bury him because I would ruin her garden. Can I bury him there?”

He pointed to a mound of dirt in Axel’s garden, freshly vacant of the rosebush that had died and been cleared two days earlier. It hadn’t been filled by anything new as Hanna preferred cooking to gardening and Axel hadn’t gotten around to it yet.

“Biz Hammertoes, huh? Get my gloves and the small shovel from the backyard. They are on the stone path by the tomatoes. Then meet me right back here.”

The boy did as he was told and shortly after they had dug a small hole and put the box inside. “He was a good hamster,” the boy said with a tear and Axel smiled.

“Mr. Hammertoes was a good hamster,” Axel repeated as reverend-like as he could, “he will always be remembered.” With that they pushed the dirt on top of the tiny coffin and pressed the dirt around it.

The boy looked up at Axel and said, “I’ll water him everyday, with fertilizer, until a new hamster grows.” Before Axel could respond the boy ran off. Axel chuckled and went back to his porch to pack his pipe.

The next morning, sure as his promise, the boy was back with a pitcher of blue water to pour on the gravesite of the dead pet. The day after that was the same thing, bright and early with a pitcher of blue water. Axel didn’t have the heart to tell the boy it wouldn’t grow anything and the fertilized water wouldn’t be wasted since it was seeping into the neighboring flowers.

The third day Hanna asked Axel to pick up something from the nearby garden store to fill the empty spot. With the smell of chocolate in the air Axel remembered that it was a Sunday and didn’t mind leaving his chair to rock alone while he ran the errand. He tucked his pipe into his shirt pocket and headed to the store where he found a dwarf teddy bear sunflower plant. The flowers on the picture looked like they could be small hamsters and Axel felt it might cheer the boy up to think that they had grown from his dearly departed. He bought it.

Axel arrived back at his house and prepared to plant the flower, but at a closer examination of the empty spot he found that the spot was no longer empty. A small plant was starting to grow. His first thought was to pluck the plant as a weed, his second was that it might be the old dead rose coming back to life from an offshoot, and his third thought was that a hamster plant was starting to sprout. He laughed, but his curiosity took control and didn’t pluck it as a weed. He found a pot and planted the sunflower on a sunny spot in his nook and waited to let the small plant grow to see what it would turn into.

The next day the boy came to water the plant as usual and Axel saw that it had grown twice its size. The following day it had again grown to twice the size and the third day the same.

Soon it had grown into a small bush no bigger than the rose bush that had originally been there. It was like no plant he had ever seen; half the leaves were small and forked like a birds foot and the other half of the leaves were large teardrops. There was white fuzz covering the undersides of the big leaves and all throughout the stem. It had vines that creeped up and around the entire bush.

The bush unnerved Axel. He found himself unable to concentrate on the porch. He spent more time inside the house, staring at it from inside the kitchen with one of his wife’s gardening books, trying to figure out what the plant was. He would have rather ripped the plant up than spend time inside, but it was beginning to bloom and Hanna loved the flowers. All the hens did and all of them wanted to take a snipping of the plant to grow in their own yards, but Axel told them no. He would shoo them away from it, even threatening them with a spray from the hose if they got near it. It made their gossip grow and Hanna was proud to be the owner of something the other hens were jealous of.

There were four flowers total, the petals were steel blue with dull purple stripes and each flower had three bright red stamens sticking out, like the flowers had been shot through their hearts with Cupid’s arrows.

Spring had faded and summer was upon them, the days were longer and hotter, but the plant thrived. The flowers began to wilt and in their place a fruit began to form, tomato-like at first, except yellowish-gray in color. As each day passed the fruit grew larger and larger. “It sure does smell,” a hen clucked, “but it looks like a Globemaster. I bet it is related to an onion. Allium is in the onion family.”

Axel started going outside again, but turned his chair the other way, ignored the plant. “See mister,” he heard a soft voice say, startling him out of a daydream, “they are almost ripe.”

Axel looked down at the boy and remembered the plant. He swallowed hard and turned to look at the plant. The four fruits were the size of softballs, weighing down the branches, they were completely covered in thick fuzz and each had four small appendages growing out of them.

“I have to go,” the boy said, “my mom is calling me.”

Axel aloofly waved the boy a goodbye and got off his chair for a closer look at the plant. He got onto his hands and knees and with his head only inches away from the largest fruit he noticed that the fruit had two small flecks of black, like eyes, and as Axel blinked his eyes in disbelief the fruit did the same.

Axel jumped back in shock, tripping and falling onto the ground. The hamster fruit opened a tiny mouth and squeaked. It started to shake, trying to free itself of the branch, but only waking up its three tiny siblings. All of them began to squeak and shake. The surge of shaking rocked the first creature loose and it stood on his hind legs and walked slowly toward Axel, squeaking, bearing a large tooth.

Axel ran to the porch and grabbed Hanna’s broom while two more creatures shook themselves loose and followed the first. Axel brought the broom down on the three creatures, missing twice before striking a blow. Their bodies exploded into a cloud of fur that rose into the air like dandelion seeds.

The last of the creatures was still struggling to escape from its leafy confines when the broom struck a blow, disintegrating it like the first three, into a cloud of fuzz.

Axel’s heart slowed, he pulled out his pipe and lit it, took a few deep breaths and went inside. He kissed Hanna and went to bed.

In the morning Axel pulled the plant down. He planted the sunflower, which was in full bloom, in its place and hoped that the boy wouldn’t notice a difference. He was young, impressionable, and would forget the entire thing.

Around midday the boy finally emerged from his house, carrying his usual pitcher of blue fertilized liquid, but rather than cross the lawn connecting their houses he stepped down the path and began walking down the sidewalk.

“Where are you going, son? Your plant is this way.”

“I came out this morning and saw that the hamsters had escaped.”

“You’re okay with that?”

“Yeah, they would probably be happier in nature anyway.”

“Where are you headed with that pitcher of fertilizer then?”

“My grandma died last week. This is for her.”