Simon Salvatore stood there unnerved, his mouth gaping at what he just saw. His mother’s rose bush, the new one that she had planted a year before after she saw an ad on the internet for what promised to be “the most beautiful roses in the garden”. They looked like regular old rose bushes to Simon. He was turning 11 in two months and didn’t have time for rose bushes or flowers. everything but basketball, skateboarding, and comic books were girl stuff in his opinion.
He never liked the roses anyway, and what he just saw reaffirmed his distaste for them. He never could quite put his finger on why he didn’t like the rose bush; there was just something sinister about them. He couldn’t put it into words, until now anyway but those rose bushes always seemed…evil, for lack of a better word to him. He could put into words now, after seeing what he just saw; the problem was no one would believe him.
“They’re never going to believe me.” He said quietly as he watched the rose bush munch on the remains of Miss Tipton’s cat. He was a good kid, he knew that but a good kid or not what he had just seen was crazy.
The cat, just your average black and white American Shorthair, was one of many that belonged to Miss Tipton. It was one of the only ones that she let roam around outside. The cat seemed to take a liking to Simon, at least as much of a liking as a cat takes to a human. Simon watched as the cat had moved just under the bushes in his backyard when a limb of some sorts snatched the cat and pulled him in deep in the branches. Simon was unsure of what exactly he just saw until he heard the unmistakable sound of something eating.
Simon picked up a sizable stick he had found last summer when he was camping with the family. He kept it, often using it as a sword when he played outside with his friends. He cautiously approached the rose bush and before he had time to question what he was doing he poked the bush with his stick. The bush hissed causing Simon to falter, he tripped over his feet and landing hard on his butt. He scooted away from as fast as he could, losing his stick into the depths of the branches.
The rose bush rumbled and then grunted before the bush started to shake violently. The leaves and branches chattered like a like a small rodent was scurrying about, even the rose buds which began to bloom almost a month before were lasting an unnaturally long time without withering away into nothing, danced as if caught in a warm summer breeze. Simon ducked as the bones of the cat came flying out of the bush with a comically sound of a cartoon character who was hawking a loogie. The bones landed spattered the ground around Simon, he shielded his face with his face. When the rumbling from the bushes stopped, he peaked at the carnage around him through two fingers.
“No one’s ever going to believe me.”
Simon collected the bones of Miss Tipton’s cat and deposited them into the dumpster behind his house. He opened the gate then stopped and gaped at the rose bush, the flowers were the color of old dried blood and that seemed fitting to Simon now. The leaves were a vibrant green that almost looked plastic. Simon’s mother had placed a wooden birdhouse over the bush and now Simon was started to realize that he had not once seen a bird anywhere near the house.
Simon bit his lower lip and made a decision. He was going to destroy the rose bush. Even if that meant he was going to be grounded the rest of the summer.
Simon knew next to nothing about horticulture. In fact, he didn’t even know that horticulture was the fancy way of saying gardening. He had picked up tidbits from what he overheard his mother saying. The one that always stuck out with him was when she’d ask him to water the plants.
“Don’t over-water them. That could kill them.” She’d say to him. So that was what he decided he was going to do. He dragged the garden house from the other side of the yard to the bush and tossed it from where he deemed to be a safe distance away from the bush. He didn’t know how long that arm thing that grabbed the cat was but he wasn’t going to take any chances. Satisfied with his throw he returned to the spigot and turned the valve until it stopped. He didn’t know how much water was going to be needed to kill the thing, or how long it was going to take it to die. He imagined it decomposing immediately into a pile of dead leaves, dead flowers, and dead cats but he really didn’t think it would be that quick.
He strode confidently back to his perch to watch the rose die a horrible death but much to his chagrin the bush had what appeared to be a suction tip sucking the water up like a straw. Simon could swear he was watching the bush get bigger.
He ran back to the spigot and twisted the valve until he couldn’t twist it anymore. He tried he tightened it one last time for good measure then pulled the water hose back. Simon opened his mouth, and then closed it again. The rose bush was a foot taller now than it had been before he turned on the water. He had the sudden realization that he was currently in a battle of wits, against his mother’s god-forsaken rose bush.
If Simon had ever seen an episode of The Twilight Zone then he would think that maybe he someone got stuck inside of one. He hadn’t but had seen an episode of The X-Files late one night on cable after his mom and dad were fast asleep. He thought he was in an episode of The X-Files.
Research, Simon thought. He trotted inside to the family room, it was the only room in the house with a computer he could use. His mom and dad both had a laptop and his older sister, Libby had one of her dad’s old desktops in her room but she was a teenager now and too cool to be seen with her little brother, even in the house they shared.
He climbed into the chair and pressed the button to turn on the computer. He fired up, giving off the VRRRs and VROOMS indicating it was coming to life. Simon wasn’t allowed to be on the computer unless his mom and dad were home and even though Libby was babysitting him during summer break while mom and dad worked, she would spend all day in her room talking on the phone to her friends and only coming out to make sure he had eaten lunch.
The computer password protected but Simon, even though he was a good kid was still a kid and had learned the password a long time ago. He typed the password, his parent’s anniversary and googled “how to kill a rose bush”.
Google came back quickly with a number of websites that dealt with ridding of wild rose bushes. He clicked and the first thing that came up with a pouring boiling water on the plant. Simon looked back into the kitchen and decided that one was out due to his lack of knowledge on how exactly the stove worked.
Bleach was the next suggestion, the commenter suggested pouring it into a spray bottle and spraying it directly onto the leaves but that put Simon a little too close to the bush for comfort.
The easiest way for him to get rid of the rose bush would be with an herbicide of some kind but there were several complications he would be facing. The first was he wasn’t allowed to go out in the front yard while his parents were away and he doubted they would be willing to take to the store to get herbicide without him explaining why he needed it and had seen one too many movies proving parents don’t believe children when something outside of the ordinary happens. The second was money; he didn’t have much.
Simon had an idea. He typed “science espearamints using herbicide” into the search bar and hit enter. Google automatically corrected his misspelling for him, but he couldn’t find anything that he could use for an excuse to get his folks to buy him some herbicide.
Libby would be no help in aiding him in his current quest, not that she wouldn’t be willing to buy him some herbicide and sneak it in when she was coming home after hanging out with her friends. She would be willing to do that but then she would know what he had done when the rose bush died and would hold that against him; use that information to make him clean her room.
He hit the X at the top of the screen and shut the computer down. When the screen went black he moved the mouse back and forth rapidly to make sure the computer was off. He ventured into the garage to see what weapons he might be able to use in the battle against The Rose Bush of the Damned.
In the garage, he found a hoe, but it was too long for his short body and made it somewhat unwieldy; he didn’t think it would be much help against the evil that stood rooted firmly in his backyard. Simon did find a red plastic gas can, it was a child-proof gas can, but he had been taking care of mowing the yard for a year now and fully understood how to work the gas can. Probably better than his dad. Simon picked up the gas can with both hands then set it back down, checking to see how full it was. He estimated it to be half full.
Simon decided he was going to play it safe. He was going to be slow and concise. Methodically. There was no need to get in a rush to fight the evil in his backyard. Simon had all the time in the world.
He decided he would attack in the morning.
Simon spent the rest of his afternoon in his room playing with his G.I. Joes. Only in the loosest sense though, more than playing with his G.I. Joes he was formulating a plan to the attack the rose bush. He only had he the one real weapon against the rose bush. The Gasoline in the garage was his best bet. But it was also a sure-fire way to get himself in a bunch of trouble, especially if the fire got out of hand. He cousin Aaron, who was a few years older than Simon started a fire in the alley two years ago that almost burned down the house.
He set the action figures back down. The gas will be the last resort, he thought. He was going to have to rethink his entire plan. Simon put the action figures back in his toy box then opened his closet.
Then Simon remembered the golf clubs his dad had gotten him for his 10th birthday. He didn’t really want them, but his dad played a lot and so when he asked Simon if he would want a set of clubs Simon said yes, worried it would hurt his dad’s feelings if he said no. He opened his closet door and dug around until he found the clubs in the very back. He pulled one out, a 7 iron if he remembered correctly. He swung it around a few times and decided he liked the way it felt. It was even sturdier than the stick he so often pretended was a sword. He put the golf club back in the closet, so it would be easily accessible and closed the door.
Simon donned the football pads his parents had bought him the summer before when he spent the afternoon playing flag football through the local YMCA. They didn’t fit him properly anymore, they were tight on his shoulders and limited his mobility, but he thought he might be able to use padding in his fight. He clutched the golf club firmly in his hands and took a deep breath.
Simon charged the rose bush as fast as he could move and swung the club, slow but powerful for his size but before the club made contact anything a vine came flying from the bush and whipped him across the face. He instinctively let go of the club, it landed at the roots of the bush and put his hand where the vine that smacked him.
There was a warm wetness there. The bush had cut his face. He took his hand away from his face and looked down.
“Oh damn.” He said under his breath then instinctively looked around to make sure no one heard him; he knew there was no one there to hear but couldn’t help it. His best friend, Tommy said the f-word one day and Tommy’s mom had made washed his mouth out with soap. Tommy’s mom had asked Tommy to go outside and pick up the dog crap in the backyard. Tommy did it but complained the whole time; that was when he said the f-word. Tommy didn’t know that his mom was standing behind him and heard what he said. Simon didn’t think his mom would wash his mouth out with soap, he figured she was more likely to ground him, but he didn’t want to find out.
He backed away from the bush. The bush was evil he decided, and he had been fooling around. Child’s play was over. He didn’t worry about the cut, not yet he thought he could explain that pretty easy.
“I fell and scratched it” or “Tommy accidentally hit me with a stick”. He decided to nix that second one. He didn’t want to blame this one his best friend. Simon’s mom wasn’t too crazy about Tommy and he didn’t want to give her any reason not to allow them to hang out anymore. The face could be explained pretty easily, he decided. A lot more easily than explain what happened last summer when he was riding his bike in his good pants, exactly like his mom told him not to do before crashing and tearing a crater-sized hole in the knees. Yeah, the face could be explained pretty easily. What he was about to do though. That was a different story.
He tore off to the house in a hurry and headed straight for the garage. He turned on the light even though he knew exactly what he was looking for and knew exactly where it was. He marched like a soldier in formation and grabbed the red gas can.
The bush had killed Mrs. Tipton’s cat in front of him. He had to fetch the bones and dispose of them. The bush drew first blood. Simon didn’t know if he could draw blood from the bush, but he knew one thing. He could kill it.
“Alright. You wanna play.” He sneered. “We can play.”
The bush made a noise, like a gurgling sound. To Simon, it sounded like the noise a fish would make when it was out of water even though he had never seen a fish out of water and didn’t know they didn’t make noise. The gurgling noise grew louder, and Simon unscrewed the cap off the gas can. He knew out to do that. He had figured out most “child-proof” things by now.
The bush spat a wad of goo at Simon. It was unexpected, but Simon was able to dart out of the way. He had become one of the best dodgeball players in the school last year. He tossed the gas can to the side when dodged the goo that came flying at him. He scrambled to turn the can upright. He had spilled half of the gas he had in the can. He sprang up to his feet and looked behind him to see the spot where the goo had landed was one smoldering. The grass had turned from green to black and the ground itself was starting to liquefy.
Simon messed up his face but didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say. He was only ten but he had never seen anything like this before. Rose bushes don’t eat cats or grow 2 feet after swallowing water but most importantly they didn’t spit acid at you. Of course, Simon had seen all the evidence to prove that he was wrong about this one thing and that rose bushes did, in fact, do all those things.
He sucked in a deep breath and blew it sharply, know that it was now or never time. He yelled as he rushed the plant, but his voice was still high pitch and hadn’t yet begun to deepen with puberty and he just ended up making a sharp shrill and that sent every dog within a square mile into a frenzy.
Simon held the gas can high as he ran towards the plant, still shrieking like a madman fire in his eyes and determination in his soul. This was his first real moment. The first time he was going to get to be a hero and he was enjoying it.
He tripped.
He tripped hard. Less than halfway to the bush. He had hit another growth spurt at the beginning of the summer and was still a bit clumsy trying to figure out how to use his longer legs.
He smelled the gas leaking from the can. The smell bit his nose sharply; it was his last chance at defeating the evil shrub and he was watching it pool in the grass and absorbed into the ground. He grabbed at it and pushed himself up with only one hand. It was a clumsy maneuver, but it worked; he would have been embarrassed if any of his friends had seen him, especially Courtney Kilrue. The girl he secretly had a crush on.
He regained his composure and tossed the gas can at the roots of the bush. The can landed on its side and the gas began gushing from the open lid. The straw thing that had sucked up the water earlier stung into the pool of gas and began sucking the liquid.
Simon saw it gulping the liquid; it took two giant swallows before he coughed the gasoline back onto the ground and sputtered while making a terrible noise that sounded like a car trying to backfire.
Simon pulled a book of matches out of his pocket. He swore he heard the bush gasp in shock, but he decided that part was just his imagination acting up. He took one match and lit it, using it to light the rest of the matches in the booklet. He tossed the flaming book at the rose bush and smiled fondly as he watched the fireproof around it like a magic trick.
He waited until he the bush was fully engulfed before he got the fire extinguisher and put the fire out.
He looked over the pile of ash and broken branches elated over his victory. He sat the fire extinguisher down and wiped his brow with the back of his hand.
“Simon!” He heard his mother’s voice behind him, “What did you do to my rose bush?”
