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Adoption

Anton was staring at the alien monstrosity in the living room. Whatever it was, it looked like a mouldy, hairy starfish that crawled into a pot and died there. It also smelled exactly like that.

Without a word he turned and marched into the study, hoping to find his partner. Sure enough, the man was in there, bent over a manuscript, seemingly unaffected by the awful stench the – plant? dead thing? whatever was giving. Anton, after a couple of minutes of unsuccessful looming, tried to get his attention by clearing his throat. Still nothing. When Ali was gone, he was gone.

Running out of other options, Anton leant forward and tapped the man on the shoulder.

'Ali. Ali?'

The man in question stirred, blinking owlishly up at him.

'Oh, hello! Sorry, I didn't see you there, I was...' he waved a hand over the stack of papers on his desk.

'That's okay... What's not okay, however, is that abomination out there' said Anton, jabbing a finger in the general direction of the living room.

Ali looked up at him, somewhat sheepishly.

'...You mean the Stapelia?'

'I mean the dead, hairy starfish, whatever it's called.'

'So the Stapelia. What's wrong with it?'

'What isn't? It's horrid, it reeks, where did it even come from?'

'Oh, you know that flat we investigated yesterday? That's where.'

Anton shuddered. Being a part time paranormal investigator took you to strange, creepy and sometimes downright disgusting places. You always had to be prepared to face off against actual demonic forces, but more often than not, just like in this most recent case, the solution to the mystery were edgy teenagers who thought animal cruelty and spray-painting pentagrams were cool and sufficiently occult.

Now that Ali mentioned it, Anton did vaguely remember seeing the terrible plant in one of the tiny windows of the miserable flat – which also happened to contain a dead, weeks-old goat, so the Stapelia's stench obviously didn't register with him right there and then.

'I couldn't just leave it there' said Ali, raising his hands 'The boys won't be returning there, no one will look after it! It would die!'

Anton was tempted to say 'all the better' but chose to just sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose.

'Does it at least eat flies?'

'No' said Ali, standing up. He took Anton by the arm and led him out into the living room 'It attracts them for the purpose of pollination. Isn't it fascinating? See how perfectly it mimics the colour and texture of rotting meat?'

'...And its smell too.'

'Exactly! Isn't it wonderful?'

Anton sighed. He was defeated. The damn plant was staying.