Overgrowth: a story in 60 seconds

Can you ever have too much of a good thing?

The flimsy aluminum door jingled open, and a man with a beard and broad shoulders stepped into the flower shop. His eyes darted uncomfortably from wall to wall, stopping momentarily on a fuchsia orchid dangling inches from his face.

An older woman with sagging cheeks sat at a workbench near the front of the store. She was carefully nestling a few carnations into a vase of calla lilies.

The man walked forward.

She mumbled without looking up. “Can I help you?”

“I sure hope so,” he replied. “I have a strange request.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” she said, still working. “I’m sure it’s nothing too out of the ordinary.”

“Well,” he started, “I understand you’re an expert at making things grow…I’m hoping you can help me do the opposite.” 

She glanced up wearily. “I’m not sure I understand. You want a plant to stop growing? Is that it?”

“Basically. Except it’s not a plant; it’s this—.” 

Without warning, the man yanked the top few buttons from his shirt, revealing a dense thicket of swirling chest hair.

The woman gasped. “Sir, what do you think you’re doing?”

“It won’t stop,” he lamented. “The doctors don’t know what to do, and I’ve tried the waxing and the lasers and the creams. Would you believe that I shaved two hours ago? Now look at it!”

She turned away. “This is absurd. Please leave my store.”

“I read online that an organic herbicide might work! Do you thi—”

“Sir! Button your shirt and get out!”

The man stepped back before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a thick money roll. “If you help me, you get it all,” he said calmly. “It’s five thousand dollars.”

The woman stared at the money, then at the dilapidated shelving around the store. “Fine,” she sighed. “I may have an idea.”

 “An herbicide won’t work on hair,” she muttered under her breath as she returned from the back of the store holding a giant set of tweezers, “but I think old-fashioned hand weeding should do just the trick.”