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Chapter 1

The Story The Authors

Merideth was walking down telegraph ave thinking about geraniums. She loved geraniums. In fact she spent many of her waking hours thinking about plants. She loved her job at the nursery, watering flowers, tending to all the different perennials. Suddenly a dirty hand was thrust into her field of vision. "Spare a dollar for some beer?", said the person standing on the sidewalk. He was dressed in black leather and threadbare denim, with six peircings in his face, smoking a cigarette. She looked into his expectant eyes as she walked by. Every ten feet it was the same. Someone interrupting her thoughts to ask for change. She wondered to herself about the young people she saw asking for change for anything from PCP to tampons. It was always the same message. "Just give me some money." She was confused that able bodied people her own age and younger would stand on the sidewalk bugging people for change all day when everyother storefront had a "help wanted" sign in the window. ph

Merideth paused a moment before the very lazy and slightly odiferous young man. Some clean clothes, a clean shave and some lessons in personal hygiene and he was exactly the sort of man that Merideth would have had wild sexual fantasies about without ever revealing the nature of her true feelings to. Merideth was a bit repressed. She seemed to like it that way. Less messy. But she did like geraniums. She like geraniums a lot. Tall slender plants with great healthy bushy foliage. The large red or purple blooms arching back on their long stalks. The brightly colored flowerheads with all their little stamens and pistils swaying in a slight breeze aching for the arrival of a big fat bumblebee engorged on sweet nectar to come and rub against them and spread their eager pollen. The Bee returning to the buzzing hive throbbing with life to make more honey. Ever and ever more honey. The hungry geranium shooting out their long stiff roots deep into the moistened depths of the earth to suck all the nutrients they need and desire from within the well of the dark damp soil. "More, more, more" the geraniums cry, "more water, fill us with all that you have. satisfy our hunger. Our need." Merideth looked the man over with a practiced eye before reaching in and opening her fastidious brown vinyl purse. The unkempt youth before her smacked his eager lips making his cigarette stub dance a bit between his full lips. With well practiced efficiency Merideth did precisely what she always did when confronted by some handsome musky young ruffian who solicited her on the street. she maced him. Lanark

The sprayed youth fell to the sidewalk in a livid, screaming blush, tears streaming down his face, jaws gnashing in a manner befitting certain Biblical recipients of the Lord's mighty wrath, and as he lay there twitching and thrashing, deeper and richer pockets of body odor were disturbed and released into the immediate vicinity. Returning the can of Mace to her purse and hurrying away, poor Meredith thought she was going to be sick, and as she turned around for one final view of the felled beggar, she saw several pedestrians, caught unawares in his foul scent-field, turn ghost-white with the malodorousness of it before leaning over and spontaneously vomiting directly onto the boy. That'll teach you, she thought to herself, waggling an inward finger and chuckling merrily to herself. Philip Welsh

It was the simple things in life that brought joy to Merideths otherwise humdrum existence. A warm Spring afternoon, a long hot bath with her rubber bath toys, a nice cup of tea and the unwarrented macing of a malodorous panhandling sex maniac were just the thing to perk up her spirits on a dreary day like today. As she bustled along the sidewalk to catch her bus to the nusery a droll little spring crept into her gait. It might be a good day for her after all she felt. Maybe she should buy a little tin of sardines to share with her obese white Persian, Tickles (so named because she loved to be tickled) inorder to spread her new found feeling of well being. Lanark

The Story	The Authors
Merideth was walking down telegraph ave thinking about geraniums. She loved geraniums. In fact she spent many of her waking hours thinking about plants. She loved her job at the nursery, watering flowers, tending to all the different perennials. Suddenly a dirty hand was thrust into her field of vision. "Spare a dollar for some beer?", said the person standing on the sidewalk. He was dressed in black leather and threadbare denim, with six peircings in his face, smoking a cigarette. She looked into his expectant eyes as she walked by. Every ten feet it was the same. Someone interrupting her thoughts to ask for change. She wondered to herself about the young people she saw asking for change for anything from PCP to tampons. It was always the same message. "Just give me some money." She was confused that able bodied people her own age and younger would stand on the sidewalk bugging people for change all day when everyother storefront had a "help wanted" sign in the window.	ph
Merideth paused a moment before the very lazy and slightly odiferous young man. Some clean clothes, a clean shave and some lessons in personal hygiene and he was exactly the sort of man that Merideth would have had wild sexual fantasies about without ever revealing the nature of her true feelings to. Merideth was a bit repressed. She seemed to like it that way. Less messy. But she did like geraniums. She like geraniums a lot. Tall slender plants with great healthy bushy foliage. The large red or purple blooms arching back on their long stalks. The brightly colored flowerheads with all their little stamens and pistils swaying in a slight breeze aching for the arrival of a big fat bumblebee engorged on sweet nectar to come and rub against them and spread their eager pollen. The Bee returning to the buzzing hive throbbing with life to make more honey. Ever and ever more honey. The hungry geranium shooting out their long stiff roots deep into the moistened depths of the earth to suck all the nutrients they need and desire from within the well of the dark damp soil. "More, more, more" the geraniums cry, "more water, fill us with all that you have. satisfy our hunger. Our need." Merideth looked the man over with a practiced eye before reaching in and opening her fastidious brown vinyl purse. The unkempt youth before her smacked his eager lips making his cigarette stub dance a bit between his full lips. With well practiced efficiency Merideth did precisely what she always did when confronted by some handsome musky young ruffian who solicited her on the street. she maced him.	Lanark
The sprayed youth fell to the sidewalk in a livid, screaming blush, tears streaming down his face, jaws gnashing in a manner befitting certain Biblical recipients of the Lord's mighty wrath, and as he lay there twitching and thrashing, deeper and richer pockets of body odor were disturbed and released into the immediate vicinity. Returning the can of Mace to her purse and hurrying away, poor Meredith thought she was going to be sick, and as she turned around for one final view of the felled beggar, she saw several pedestrians, caught unawares in his foul scent-field, turn ghost-white with the malodorousness of it before leaning over and spontaneously vomiting directly onto the boy. That'll teach you, she thought to herself, waggling an inward finger and chuckling merrily to herself.	Philip Welsh
It was the simple things in life that brought joy to Merideths otherwise humdrum existence. A warm Spring afternoon, a long hot bath with her rubber bath toys, a nice cup of tea and the unwarrented macing of a malodorous panhandling sex maniac were just the thing to perk up her spirits on a dreary day like today. As she bustled along the sidewalk to catch her bus to the nusery a droll little spring crept into her gait. It might be a good day for her after all she felt. Maybe she should buy a little tin of sardines to share with her obese white Persian, Tickles (so named because she loved to be tickled) inorder to spread her new found feeling of well being.	Lanark

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