Posted on: March 29th, 2009 Celery Stalk

by Daria Patrie

Loading the groceries into the car, my roommate finds this jar of celery salt.  Hating returns, she just goes home.

That night I find her in the kitchen, hair soaked in sweat, clutching the celery salt, lips puffed, face flushed, snarling.

I run.

Cops show up.  She’s dead.  Anaphylactic shock.  Allergic to celery.  Who knew?  Open and shut case, they say.

Except twice now I’ve found celery salt when I’m paying for groceries, and the caretaker says this weed is outside my window.  Green, thick, straight stalks, bulbous white root.  Keeps growing back no matter what he does.

Filed under: bad-ass, stories

--Brain Harvest