“Circe, I have to go out on a call,” said Marek, wiping down the countertop, “are you going to be okay there on the windowsill for a few hours?”
“Just leave the window open, so I can get a few mosquitos, and I’ll be fine,” replied the Venus Flytrap from her perch above the sink.
“You won’t get too chilly?” Marek asked, as he opens the window.
“Nah. I find the night air invigorating. It stimulates the appetite, brraaaah,” belched Circe, “Oops, sorry. “
“No problem. Don’t overeat. Think of your girlish figure,” Marek called as he went out the front door bumping his tool kit on the door jamb.
Circe opened her jaws, to yawn and a mosquito flew in. She wasn’t really that hungry. She really didn’t want Marek to go out. He’d promised to let her taste beer.
She wasn’t too keen on the idea of being dumped on Marek for the weekend in the first place. Lachesis had never left her for any length of time. Now that Al was in the picture, they needed some couple time without her around. They told her Marek would be ok. with the talking so here she was. Its been alright. Marek’s turned out to be a kind and surprisingly gentle soul although he hasn’t a clue about females of any species. Oh well, She’d make him her weekend project.
Suddenly, Circe found herself sprawled out in the kitchen sink. Strange men were climbing through the window. One almost stepped on her. She can’t see anything over the edges of the sink, and lay very quiet on the stainless steel.
“What the hell? Is this some kind of junk shop? ”
“How the fuck do I know? Look for the good stuff. He’s got money stuffed in the couch cushions I bet.”
Circe heard the men move into the living room, falling over the piles of stuff and swearing. She heard them draw the curtains and switch on a light. She hoped that Marek will come home and scare them away. She hoped that Marek will not come home before they leave because they sound mean. She hoped that they will not notice her in the sink and she stayed very quiet.
“Jeeeeezuuus! Looks like a bomb-site,”
“We ain’t gonna find anything here. Get a load of this radio! A radio, for chrissakes!”
Circe heard a kick and a crash as Marek’s radio was smashed to smithereens.
“Gimme yer knife. I’m cuttin the pillas on the couch!”
The cushions of the couch are cut to ribbons. Circe could almost feel the blade slicing through the fabric.
“Nothin’, nothin’ but fluff! Fuck.”
“Bingo! I found me some SoCo!”
The burglars slosh the bottle around. They grunted as they drank from the bottle then they threw it into the mirror on the wall. Circe heard the sound of breaking glass.
“Jack-all. That’s what’s here. Jack-all. You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Let’s torch it.”
One of the buglars went down to the cellar. Circe heard him on the stairs. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven down. 12 steps to the door. It sticks a bit, she heard him put his shoulder to it.
“You got the fuckin’ back door open yet? ‘Cos we ain’t goin’ through the fuckin’ window again!”
Circe breathed a sigh of relief and sucked it in again as the other burglar comes into the kitchen looking for matches. She heard him going through Marek’s newly organized kitchen drawers, dropping their contents all over the floor. The matches were on the shelf above the sink. The shelf from which she’d been so rudely pushed. Nobody treats her that way nobody!
“Where are the fuckin’ matches. This guy has everything in this shit-hole but matches!”
Realizing what’s about to happen next, Circe decides not to go down without a fight.
“They’re on the shelf, chooch. The one you knocked me off of, that’s right, dickhead.”
“Me. Here. In the sink, moron!”
“Fuck! The plant talks!”
“Or are you just going crazy, loosah?”
“This is freakin me out! Joey, the plant talks! I’m outta here!”
Joey the burglar comes into the kitchen to check on his pal.
“The plant fuckin’ talks.”
“Talk plant, talk!”
Circe remained silent.
“You been smokin’ too much weed, bubba, “ says Joey.
“It fuckin’ talked to me!”
“You got the matches?”
“Yeah. Here. Talk plant! You fuckin’ talk!”
With that he picked up Circe out of the sink and shook her so all the dirt fell off her roots. Denuded of her root covering and vulnerable, she did the only thing any woman in the same situation would do. She bit off the burglar’s earlobe.
The burglar screamed, threw Circe down on top of the mess on the kitchen floor and ran out the cellar door while Joey was busy organizing the arson in the livingroom. Nothing would catch flame. He gave up and booked it out the cellar door too. Joey decided never to take his nutcase brother-in-law with him on a job again.
Marek arrived home about 10 minutes later.
“Hey Circe, I’m home!” he called as he came in the front door.
Then he noticed the smoke, and the trashed remains of his livingroom.
He walked toward the kitchen, didn’t see Circe on the windowsill and started to feel a little panic. Then he heard the noise. It sounded like a kitten and there she was, on top of a pile of tea-towels.
“Aw, Circe, “ he said, kneeling down to wrap her roots in a tea-towel, “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
“They b-b-b-broke my pot,” she blubbered, “they b-b-b-roke your stuff and they were going t-tt-to set-set-set your house on f-f-f-fire.”
“Ssh,” said Marek, “That’s not important. We need to get you repotted.”
He lay the root-bundled Circe on the kitchen table and went down into the cellar because he knew he had a zinc pail of about the right size somewhere down there.
“It’s not very elegant, but I think it’ll do until the morning, “ Marek told Circe.
He scooped the dirt out of the sink and very gently repotted the still sniffling Circe, pressing the dirt firmly around her roots and stem, whistling “Annie Laurie” but not speaking while he was busy. She did not try to bite him.
“Comfy?” he asked, when he’d given the potting soil one final pat?
“I’m glad you’re ok.”
“Otherwise Lachesis would be really mad at you.”
“I’m glad you’re ok because I like you.”
“You’re alright too.”
“I bit one of the fuckers on the ear.”
“I’m sorry. I was upset.”
“I can imagine.”
“You calling the cops?”
“Not much point, really. I left the window open.”
“Because of me.”
“It’s not your fault. Besides I still have to clear out the livingroom. This will give me a head start.”
“You’re a nice guy, Marek.”
“Can I get you anything?”
“How about that beer?”
“I’ve got a surprise for you!”
Marek opened his tool kit and took out a little brown bag. It contained dried crickets from the pet shop. He looked through the mess on the floor and found a pair of chopsticks he’d gotten with takeout one time. He poured a beer for himself, and one for Circe, picked up a dried cricket with the chopsticks, dipped it in her beer and fed it to her.