By Allison Olsson

"Allan! The dog's eaten something again! Get out here and clean it up before I send the dog to the shelter."

Groaning, I rolled my eyes and looked up from my computer screen. 

"What is wrong with that dog?" she continued, her shrill voice grating on my nerves.

 I took a deep breath and shook my head as I picked up the dustpan and broom on my way through to the small patio of our townhouse.

“Why can’t you clean up after the damn thing for once?” I complained, sick of Josie bringing plants home from the university and expecting me to guard them for her. She knew the dog had a penchant for exotic greenery. He’d either eat them or pee on them. Neither action was acceptable in Josie’s eyes.

I opened the sliding door and paused. The pavers were covered with dirt, green and yellow fertiliser beads, and a chewed up, torn-up, shrub with serrated edged, heart-shaped, hairy leaves. The plastic handle of the dustpan caved in and finally gave way and snapped as I gripped it in futile anger.  Strewn across the pavers was the corpse of a potted Dendrocnide Moroides-aka Gympie Gympie, or Suicide Plant. 

“Damn!” I cursed, throwing the broken dustpan to the ground and stamping my foot so hard a jolt of pain shot up my leg. The plant should have been locked up at the university, not strewn across our townhouse patio. Marie swore she wouldn’t bring it home from the university. She swore on her life to keep it at the university. It was the only condition under which I would pay for its importation from Australia for her research into its potential medical uses. The plant was lethal. 

A cold sweat trickled down my back as I turned and looked for the four-legged culprit. I’d deal with Marie later. No matter what sort of pest the dog was, it didn't deserve to suffer the slow, agonising poison of the Suicide Plant. The plant’s fine, downy hairs were known to cause crippling pain and burning in its victims for months. Explorers — and their horses — had committed suicide to escape the excruciating agony it induced.

I spotted the dog, curled up under a potting table. Kneeling, I reached out to pat his head, but stopped as he turned an otherworldly, glazed stare towards me. I shivered and stared, mesmerised by the dog’s coat as it rippled and twisted, changing, growing, forming hundreds of tiny stems topped with heart-shaped leaves. The stems and leaves were covered with furry hairs. The dog whimpered and moaned, and I shuffled back towards the kitchen as the dog rose and rippled towards his water bowl.

Josie stomped out of the kitchen, pushed past me and stood in the doorway, hands on hips.

"At last! That dog has got to go! What a pest! If it knows what's good for it it'll keep away from my pot-plants..." she said, a hard grin on her face. “I’ll teach it to eat my plants…” and she raised her arm as she stepped towards the poor creature.

Her threat was met by a low growl. I turned and scrabbled inside the doorway to avoid the dog/plant hybrid as it stalked towards Josie, growling, its fine stingers standing on edge all over its body.  Josie's eyes goggled as she fell backwards in fear and confusion. I quickly pulled the glass door closed as the dog let out one long howl and leaned forwards. It released its stingers, and they shot through the air, covering Josie. She howled, a terrifying deep agony I had never heard before and hoped never to hear again. Josie's arms flailed as she ran out of the patio and onto the street. The patio gate slammed shut behind her. I heard the screech of brakes and a dull thump. The howling ceased. My eyes turned back to the dog. It was at its water bowl, drinking. He turned his blind eyes towards me and bared his teeth. I pulled the curtain shut and powered up my computer as the sound of an ambulance reached my ears. Catching my breath, I rubbed my hands together and thought hard. I entered the search parameters and made a cup of coffee.

Sipping my coffee, I scrolled through the search results for: Biological Weapons Buyers.

About the Author