Date: Mon, 06 Jul 1998 14:29:24 -0400 From: Michael <chambe58@pilot.msu.edu> To: cp@opus.hpl.hp.com Message-Id: <aabcdefg2257$foo@default> Subject: Swamp gasses
I once knew an old grower of carnivorous plants who spun me a yarn about
swamp gasses and their remarkable properties.
"Swamp gasses! The breath of life fer all bog critters" he cackled. "Every
bog-plant stuck in the pot still yearns for the whiff of the bog vapors"
said he, while brushing stray strands of long-mill sphagnum from his hair.
"Give't too 'em and they-all grow like black magic". He gave a Nepenthes
rajah picher a shove and it rocked on the vine like a big red tire swing.
And then he showed me his generator, the source and amplifier of his
home-brewed swamp gasses--a hunkering and rusted tin fuselage with
distillery tubes leading from a fetid stone composting vault. I did not
know whether to believe him. But on hot and humid nights, very late, I was
sometimes awakened by a low mechanical rumble, and in the distance
something out in that direction glowed green with an eery flickering light.
Michael
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