The Weed

Jules sipped a rum and tonic by the rooftop pool. He regarded a weed in a flower box. He didn’t recall seeing it before.

The crooked, gangling weed must have grown quickly. It towered above the trimmed flowers. Its wild green had unfurled like a flag.

Jules relaxed in his chaise lounge and knew that if he carefully watched the weed for hours and hours he’d observe its ascent. He took another sip.

There was a sudden vision of Jack’s beanstalk.

He saw the green weed growing higher.

The weed rose from the rooftop pool and the surrounding rooftops up into blue sky, and the city streets below became very small. The weed penetrated a white cloud. It emerged above the cloud and continued to grow.

It passed a flying dragon.

It passed a witch on her broomstick.

It neared a castle.

From the castle an astonished giant watched the green weed shooting past.

The weed left Earth’s atmosphere and passed a cow jumping over the moon.

The weed, whose seed must have been blown to the rooftop on the wind, passed Martian canals, a whirling space ship, and peculiar stone heads on a desert island. It passed a mummy walking upon the rings of Saturn. It passed ghosts and angels.

It passed Hermes returning to Mount Olympus, a flaming Firebird, and the imagination of a young boy taking flight.

It passed through galaxies containing minute planets where civilizations rose and fell like dust and the stars were too numerous for any sane person to count.

Jules sipped his rum and tonic by the pool on the rooftop. Fairy tales.

The tall weed in the flower box disrupted his view of the city.

He sprang from his chaise lounge and pulled it.