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O.P.C. LLC O.P.C. LLC by Jim Gardner
Doctor Jack smiled at his new star studded sign announcing O.P.C. LLC, but his laugh refused. Organic Pest Control just didn’t say enough. Experimental husbandry is so much more than farming.
The front door of his business/research lab opened with a pop-sigh like a jar of half-rotted jam. Yes, the all-natural organic [cross bred but with a bit of genetic engineering] tangles of kudzu vine dangled from every stick of furniture and all light fixtures, what a mess. Take a four day week end and jungle city shows up singing jungle time. Or should that be a rain forest singing Singing in the Rain?
Maui Jane, the new computer tech, called from the hall, “Anybody seen the cat?” Doctor Jackson have you seen Mouser?” She stepped into Doc Jack’s office, “Je-sheese; it’s worse in here. It’s crawling, growing, I mean up-out the HVAC vent. My car; it’s on my car already. It broke out the rear window it’s after my beef jerky on the back seat. Maybe I should… I’ll move the car.”
Doctor Jackson stomped vine away from his leg and headed for the elevator.
The elevator inched its way down, down, down, from the first floor to the basement. Where the automated, artificially lit, totally organic [except for a little gene splicing], seedling beds were.
It scraped to a halt and the doors sprang open yielding an odor of fresh crunched kudzu. Doctor Jackson literally swam [pulled, stomped, and groped] his way through a sea of experimental, [still totally organic and quite green, but not quite] kudzu vines.
“Oh there you are Norman,” Doctor Jack hummed as he ascended the three steps to ‘seedling Control Center,’ a small platform from which, usually, the whole operation could be seen and totally naturally fertilized, and even gene spliced “on the fly” so to speak.
Norman, busy as usual, remained at the printer.
Doc Jack bent over the computer screen and asked with professional interest, “I see the Venus Fly Trap cum Kudzu is growing well.” He read from the computer monitor too:
The seedlings are growing faster than expected. More good news: there are no longer any bugs or ants in the building test or wild. No mice. I can’t find Mouser the cat either.
The bad news is: I can’t find my peanut butter and organic-natural honey sandwich on multi-grain bread or the organic spinach chips that go with it. So far my sugar free, caffeine free, naturally sweetened, non-carbonated, no artificial colors cola remains in reach.
More bad news
“What’s the more bad news Norman?” Doctor Jackson raised his head and glanced at his associate.
A scream blasted through in basement PA, “My jerky, my car, oh my God, my leg, myyyy…” the PA became static.
Doc Jack spoke slowly to himself, “If she’s in the parking lot how can she use the Public Address feature; a cell phone app? And if she’s in the building why mention her car and snacks? Her leg? Is she under assault? I never should have hired a person actually named Maui Jane. What was I thinking of? And now, ending a sentence with a prepossession; whew. Norman?”
Doctor Jack thought at first that he saw Norman’s lips move, but it was vine growing from his left nostril. Like green double doors closing from his left and his right Doc Jack disappeared into a totally organic [with only a gene splice or two] swathing of kudzu-fly trap. It didn’t even burp.
So much for all natural, totally organic genesplicing. The world’s foremost authority just became fertilizer.
Even so, you better watch out for the totally organic Kudzu gene spliced with Venus Fly Trap that ate Atlanta. It was headed north on I-75 at a blistering two miles an hour. Your city could be next; Dalton soon, Chattanooga to follow.
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