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People think I'm joking when I say that my and my boyfriend's apartment is guarded by a vicious attack cactus.
I am not.
I got it from my grandmother on Thanksgiving several years ago. She had them growing in troughs in the ruins of an old garage near her house. Note that she did not have them by her house, or in it, or anywhere right beside it. They were a nice, safe distance away. However, me being young and stupid, and seduced by the beautiful yellow and orange blossoms of these cacti in the summer, I asked her if I could have some to put in a pot. I planned to set the pot out on the porch of the house my parents and I had just moved into.
She agreed because it's as easy as pie to transplant an attack cactus. Hell, just let one of its paddles fall off and hit the ground and it will start growing. And so that was how I obtained the cactus.
Over the years it mutated some... mostly it just produces millions of these vicious little red spikes that embed themselves in anything that touches them. However, from time to time it will grow out a big long spine that's white at the paddle and red at the tip. We had a cat who poked out an eye on one of those.
For whatever reason, I decided I wanted to keep this cactus when I moved out on my own. It's the only thing I have that was my grandmother's anymore, so maybe that's it... but I think she would understand if I were to abandon it in a parking lot some dark night and then flee on foot. It's evil.
It's also very heavy. I don't remember how I got it moved first and second times it went with me. The third time I sacrificed a towel because the towel was covered in those red spines. That was when my roommates christened it the "Dread Cactus Roberts." When I moved in with my boyfriend, two garbage bags and a pair of scissors gave their lives for the cause.
And now today. They're pressure-washing the walls of the complex and sent a note around to everyone saying that if you don't mind having your plants destroyed you can leave them out, but otherwise you will have to bring them in.
We brought it in. We think we got most of the spines out, although that was a process that involved standing outside while my boyfriend went over my jeans with tweezers, and I can still feel one stuck in my upper right thigh.
Basically, if you touch the pot that it's in, you get the spines in your fingers. Brush against the pot and you get the spines in your clothes. And, because it's always dropping paddles and dead pieces of itself, heaven help the woman who lives below us because there are gaps between the boards in the breezeway that let all the spines trickle down to her.
Currently it's sitting on a piece of cardboard by a window in our living room, the cactus and several stalks of clover that you can't weed out because if you try you'll get spines in your hands. And my boyfriend just informed me that in all the time he's lived in this complex, they've sent that pressure-wash notice around three or four times and have never once acted on it. He's of the mind that they damn well better do it this time, and I agree. Moving this thing is an ordeal. Hell, even getting near it is an ordeal, and we still have to get it back outside because it's far too dangerous to keep in the house.
But for now it keeps watch by the window. Waiting. Waiting for victims...
I am not.
I got it from my grandmother on Thanksgiving several years ago. She had them growing in troughs in the ruins of an old garage near her house. Note that she did not have them by her house, or in it, or anywhere right beside it. They were a nice, safe distance away. However, me being young and stupid, and seduced by the beautiful yellow and orange blossoms of these cacti in the summer, I asked her if I could have some to put in a pot. I planned to set the pot out on the porch of the house my parents and I had just moved into.
She agreed because it's as easy as pie to transplant an attack cactus. Hell, just let one of its paddles fall off and hit the ground and it will start growing. And so that was how I obtained the cactus.
Over the years it mutated some... mostly it just produces millions of these vicious little red spikes that embed themselves in anything that touches them. However, from time to time it will grow out a big long spine that's white at the paddle and red at the tip. We had a cat who poked out an eye on one of those.
For whatever reason, I decided I wanted to keep this cactus when I moved out on my own. It's the only thing I have that was my grandmother's anymore, so maybe that's it... but I think she would understand if I were to abandon it in a parking lot some dark night and then flee on foot. It's evil.
It's also very heavy. I don't remember how I got it moved first and second times it went with me. The third time I sacrificed a towel because the towel was covered in those red spines. That was when my roommates christened it the "Dread Cactus Roberts." When I moved in with my boyfriend, two garbage bags and a pair of scissors gave their lives for the cause.
And now today. They're pressure-washing the walls of the complex and sent a note around to everyone saying that if you don't mind having your plants destroyed you can leave them out, but otherwise you will have to bring them in.
We brought it in. We think we got most of the spines out, although that was a process that involved standing outside while my boyfriend went over my jeans with tweezers, and I can still feel one stuck in my upper right thigh.
Basically, if you touch the pot that it's in, you get the spines in your fingers. Brush against the pot and you get the spines in your clothes. And, because it's always dropping paddles and dead pieces of itself, heaven help the woman who lives below us because there are gaps between the boards in the breezeway that let all the spines trickle down to her.
Currently it's sitting on a piece of cardboard by a window in our living room, the cactus and several stalks of clover that you can't weed out because if you try you'll get spines in your hands. And my boyfriend just informed me that in all the time he's lived in this complex, they've sent that pressure-wash notice around three or four times and have never once acted on it. He's of the mind that they damn well better do it this time, and I agree. Moving this thing is an ordeal. Hell, even getting near it is an ordeal, and we still have to get it back outside because it's far too dangerous to keep in the house.
But for now it keeps watch by the window. Waiting. Waiting for victims...
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