The Florist of Blood

Quince's flower shop was wilting on the stem.

No matter what he did nothing changed. People just weren't buying his plants and flowers anymore.

Sorry mate, they're naff.

Sorry mate, they're boring.

Sorry mate, you're fucked.

Times had changed. 

With endless video gaming, incessant AI, ubiquitous mobiles, constant streaming and God knows what else, people just couldn't be bothered with cut blooms or potted violets.

 They wanted adventure. They wanted entertaining for Christ's sake!

But how can a flower be entertaining? They don't do anything Goddamit!

Quince pondered this question whilst shaving his shadow. He liked to go old school and flick a razor over a foamed face. 

Distracted by his failing bouquets he sliced his chin open.

Damn!

It was quite a cut and blood came pouring out, dripping into the sink and over the house plant on the end.

The plant, a Venus fly trap, quivered.

Quince stopped.

He dribbled a little more blood into the open flower heads.

They quivered again.

What the ....?

The florist was intrigued. Did Fly traps like blood?

It was an enthralling notion and slowly an idea began to form in his mind.

A grisly one!

They want entertaining plants, I'll give them entertaining plants!

Quince rushed to the local butchers and bought a bag of pig's blood.

Laying out some fly traps and pitcher plants in a large tray, the excited florist poured in the thick fluid.

There you go! 

Drink it up!

The next day Quince was appalled to see that none of the plants had taken any of the blood and even worse, they looked bedraggled.

Damn!

He got a penknife and sliced open his thumb and let his own red stuff drip over a test fly trap.

It immediately stood erect and opened it's serrated head literally guzzling the liquid.

So, it has to be human blood! 

But where from?

Where can he get that much blood?

That afternoon a young girl walked in the shop.

I'm looking for something interesting for my old Mum. She's gone in a home.

Ah, yes, I think I have just the thing. 

Let me just check. Your Mum you say. Is she ill?

Not really, just very old and confused. Can't remember stuff.

Ah. So, you live on your own?

Yes 

Any other family?

No 

I think I have just the right plant for your Mum. It's in my special nursery in the cellar. Just follow me.

When the girl entered the basement Quince turned and with all the force he could muster swung his penknife down on her head where it lodged deep in her brain.

She died instantly and he wasted no time.

Quince closed the shop and feeling a rush of adrenaline he trussed up the girl's body and hung her upside down from a large meat hook on the roof.

Positioned over a long bit of guttering he'd drilled holes into, the smiling florist slit the girl's throat and her hot red blood gushed out in gouts straight into the guttering, where it travelled along in both sides, dripped through the holes down onto the open heads of the hungry fly traps and pitchers, which filled up and gargled in appreciation. 

The plants thrived and grew strong and lush and looked totally fabulous in the shop window. The prices were fabulous too.

After a few sales, word of mouth spread and Quince just couldn't keep up with demand. He was making money hand over fist and it felt good. 

There was one problem though.

He needed more blood.

He needed a new body. 

Contemplating this gruesome conundrum Quince hadn't really noticed the young man looking round the shop.

He stared at the huge fly traps in the window.

Can I help you sir?

Yes, I'm wondering if ....

It was at this moment that the man noticed something familiar floating in the thick red liquid filling the cup of a giant pitcher plant.

It was his girlfriend's earring, one of a pair he'd bought her last Christmas. 

Jesus Christ! What the hell has this sicko done with her?

Raging the young man feigned some interest and faced Quince. 

I'm looking for something even bigger than the plants in your window. Something truly carnivorous.

I see. Right, well. I may have something. Let me see.

Quince turned his back on the customer and opened his knife.

You buying it as a gift?

No. It's for me. 

Ah, no family members then?

No. I'm an orphan now. Everyone died in a car crash. I need something to take my mind off it all. A hobby. A really big pitcher plant would do. 

Very good sir, I have exactly what your looking for in my cellar. Let me just close the shop whilst we go down.

When Quince turned the cellar lights on, the young man was completely horrified.

His girlfriend was now lying face up on a long trestle table. Her belly had been slit open from navel to chin and an enormous pitcher plant was rooted firmly in her guts. 

The plant's pitcher must have been at least five feet tall and to the young man's absolute horror it was lowering it to catch the blood dripping from his girlfriend's innards.

Quince realised that he'd recognised the girl.

So, you knew her?

She was my girlfriend you sick bastard! 

Oh, fuck! Sorry mate! It was a business decision that's all. Nothing personal.

Well this is just business as well.

The boyfriend leapt onto Quince and without hesitation pushed the penknife deep into his ear, where it struck small bones and soft giving matter.

Quince folded like a coma patient.

The young man calmly set to work to avenge his dead girlfriend.

It was some days later that whilst having his mother over for tea, she noticed the huge pitcher plant in the corner of the room. 

Blimey, that's a big plant!

What's it eat?

Joint of meat, which last for weeks.

Can you give it one? I want to see.

No need mother, it's been nicely fed a few days ago.

It was only the old woman's poor eyesight which prevented her from seeing what was stuffed inside the pitcher plant's enormous cup, a man bent into a U-shape, dropped into the liquefying broth within.

As she walked away, the plant twitched.

Quince opened his eyes and screamed a silent gargle as the final structure of his skin gave way, a bubbling surge of blood filling the pitcher and his body completely dissolving into the carnivorous brew. 

The boyfriend smiled.

Tea Mother?