“FEED ME, SEYMOUR”

It started as a reluctant orchid. When Hercules Keating comes upon this obscure flower, he discovers it’s as carnivorous as an oversized Venus Flytrap.  It almost kills him.

Hercules is thus inspired to use the blood-thirsty posy to kill his overbearing aunt, whom he hates.

A story of revenge and hatred -- a 1956 short sci-fi story by Arthur C. Clarke -- made it to the big screen in The Little Shop of Horrors, directed by Roger Corman. This 1960 American black comedy focuses on a bumbling florist's assistant who cultivates a plant that feeds on human flesh. When Seymour accidently pricks his finger, he discovers his adopted sickly, odd-looking, potted plant has an appetite for blood.

He nicknames his flora-friendly Audrey Jr. after his human love interest. The plant quickly towers over its human keeper, dining on unfortunate victims who wander near it. Audry Jr. learns to speak, exerting a hypnotic effect on Seymour.

Then Audrey Jr. begins to bud. “Feed me, Seymour!” becomes its command over the anemic, reluctant florist.

How many of us have an Audrey Jr. we regularly cultivate and feed? Its manifests itself in our garden of opinion by hatred of something or some human advisory?

It starts as the cute plant of anger, but the more we feed and water it, the more carnivorous and demanding it becomes. Never sated, it drives us to hatred that endangers anyone it targets at the sacrifice of our common sense.

Hatred is that sweet, seductive belief that our rights have been violated. As we nurture and coddle this emotional pet, it screams our world view is endangered. Panic pushes us to knee-jerk reaction.

Gone are any good intentions. Action is demanded over any opposition; a crosshair replaces civil discourse. The personal rights of hatred’s target are immaterial. We recklessly justify our actions, as long as hatred is allowed to bloom and snap and consume.

We believe in OUR right of expression but not the rights of someone to contradict or disagree. As long the red fury of hatred colors our world, it seduces us, reducing us into justifying unspeakable acts against others:

·      A New York man tried to run over a campaign volunteer at a congressman’s re-election headquarters after threatening to kill supporters of the lawmaker and the sitting President of the United States.

·      A man stabs nine people including six children, at a three-year-old’s birthday party. Already having an extensive criminal record, all nine victims of this man were refugees from overseas violence.

·      An 11-year-old student in a Massachusetts middle school takes a screwdriver to his teacher’s throat during class.

·      Politicians and White House staffers are assaulted in their private lives by rabid opponents who would be highly offended if the tables were turned. These protesters are the manipulated off-spring of another’s hedge of hatred.

·      A Texas man bits off the tail of a rattlesnake (to silence the snake’s rattles) and released it into his neighbor’s RV after the two got into heated argument.

Your own Audrey Jr. will steal your attention, demanding your complete focus. It may reward you with a temporary sense of justification and well-being.

However, stay under its control, you WILL EXPERIENCE its bite much like the South Texas man who was bitten by the severed head of a snake he had killed. He survived only after 26 doses of antivenom, where a normal victim gets up to four.

So, keep your hatred. Nurture it. Let it blow lava all over the people of your world. Some may even be ignited to share your passion.

Ignore the warning signs. When its vitriol distorts the normal reflection in your mirror, know you have become a toady Seymour from The Little Shop of Horrors.

You are no longer in control of your own creation.