Ferns and Other Bloodthirsty Plants

I can be a "fun" guy. I went to a "bar" with the rest of the medical students and "danced" at a "club." But as wild as I get when I stay up past my 9:30 p.m. bedtime, I realize that I do occasionally partake in "unusual" activities for my 18-24 year-old demographic. For instance, yesterday I went to the Conservatory.

The Conservatory, despite sounding like a place where Republicans are allowed to breed in captivity, is actually just a large greenhouse where a variety of plants are tortured for sport. I, for one, was offended at the cruel conditions that were endured by the helplessly organisms.

Pictured above: This poor flower was forced to fend for itself, and it may go its entire life without ever knowings its parents, stamen OR anther. It may never know where it got its long stem or embarrassing petal pattern. And with such low self-esteem, it will probably start dating a gymnosperm half its age.

However, I did fall in love with the steampunk aesthetic of the Conservatory's glass dome. Apparently, this Conservatory has been around for over a century and still has the rusty pipes and steel chains to prove it. I can only imagine how many moustachioed men tightened screws for the steam-powered Greening engine for their Artificial Botanirarrium.

Pictured above: Oh, valves. In my dream house, all of the electronics will be operated by giant levers and the doors opened by iron wheels.

But I was also appalled at the lack of security. There were no fences to protect the visitors from the more viscous plants, so it just remains a matter of time before the ferns execute their daring and violent escape plan. The blood of their victims is on your hands, Conservatory.

Pictured above: The Japanese Shield Fern is the ninja of ferns. The nametag lists its common name, scientific name, and political powers controlled by its iron-fronds.

Overall, going to see some pretty flowers in a greenhouse may hurt the bad-boy image I've been crafting in medical school, but it was worth it. I enjoyed mocking the plants by showing them all how easy it was for me to move in and out of the greenhouse with my mammalian legs. They retaliated by reminding me of my allergy to pollen. Touché, plants.

Pictured above: This is just a picture of some banana fritters I made. I couldn't think of any jokes to work with it, despite "banana fritters" sounding like one of the best punchlines of all time. Oh, well. I'll get you next time, banana fritters.