I would say I have a blackish green thumb, meaning not all the plants I grow or bring home get murdered, at least not within a month. But the unfortunate victims include even those that are typically resilient to all natural forms of stress — until they meet me. (Sigh) I mean, I don’t mea—n to kill them. I’m attentive and careful of not over-watering them or baking them under direct sunlight. Yet, amateur forensics tell me the common cause of death is my black thumb dressed in green. It seems to have this demonic power to suck life out of these innocent photosynthesizing organisms. These poor guys need a lawyer to help them get a restraining order on me. I wonder how soon it will be until my apartment becomes a wasteland of withered house plants.