Venus and "What's His Name" - a story

Venus and “What’s His Name”

 a story

byKimberly Koerber

 March 31, 2010

“You are not going to throw that away, are you?” he said. “Yes, I think I am because this plant is not what I am really interested in anymore,” she responded. “It has lost its sheen. The needles have fallen from the leaves, and it is too time consuming to maintain. This plant is not as good as the one that eats pests, like that fly buzzing around here. The plant that I want is much better, much glossier, and grows in sand”. “When I get this plant, I do not want you to touch it or interfere with it anymore. It is very sensitive, and its trick is to have a hair trigger button which causes the ‘trap’ to close quickly on predators. Its name is Venus, like the planet – or “The Venus Fly Trap”. Venus is the sixth planet from the sun and the second largest in the solar system. Another name for Venus is Aphrodite, in Greek, according to mythology. Although this is a female planet and listed as an ‘inferior’ planet astrologically, it is not an inferior planet in the solar system, and is the brightest of the planets known to ancient astrologers. In the world of plants, the Venus fly trap an amazing plant, and there is none other like it. It is native to the coastlines of North Carolina currently. Venus the plant does well in a greenhouse environment, and as hot as you keep this office, it will do well here and think that it is in a home designed for her, she mused. “Okay, okay”, he laughed. This time I will leave the plant alone. Last time, I saturated the plant and did not know any better”. “I think that you saturated Venus on purpose, because it was a female plant, or reminded you of a female”, she said indignantly. “I think you have an issue with normal females, and think that all plants are supposed to be, like maybe, Wandering Jews or something. I think you did not like the fact that Venus was stickier that you imagined and you wanted to get rid of Venus on purpose”. He got up and walked across the room with a frown on his face, with his hands in pockets, and noticed that the room, which used to be green and had plants of various varieties, was currently plain, and needed something. He knew that he was responsible for the other plants not being there and felt guilty, but was not going to tell her that. He shook took a cigarette out of the pack he carried in his shirt pocket and lit it with matches that he got from “Harry’s Beachfront Bar.” Then he shook the match out by waving it in the air. She started laughing uncontrollably for some reason when seeing that gesture. He frowned and thought that she was laughing at him. “What is so funny?” he asked. “Years ago, I had a roommate who I did not know very well when we moved in get together. She, a woman who was divorced, not very attractive, and fairly low class took it upon herself to be a teacher of ‘class’. One of the things that I recall about this woman was her control issues and her telling me to never “wave” out a match, but to blow it out gently. Funny how certain things are always remembered”, she recalled. “Whatever became of her?” he said. “She was like our old plant - too dried up, too standard and not enough ‘glitter’ or finesse, and lots of gravel in her pot.