Phobophobia A Horror Anthology

Lachanophobia - Fear of vegetables

Lachanophobia - Fear of vegetables

Max scowled, drawing all of his pudgy features closer to the centre of his face. He craned his neck as far as it could go, leaning away from the ghastly sight on the table in front of him. His mother frowned, the disappointment evident in her face. Max made a retching noise and clutched at his throat for dramatic effect. His mother began ignoring him. He sighed and picked up his fork. He pushed the hideous green sprouts back and forth on his plate, lining them up, counting them. How he hated them!

Broccoli, spinach, cauliflower, kale, peas, water cress, dill, arugula, lettuce! He hated all of them! Vegetables were the bane of his existence. Currently, at the dinner table, it was broccoli that had been presented to him. He tapped his foot on the floor. His mother got up and began to clear her plate. She threw him a stern glance that clearly said, "Eat it or no dessert!" Max grumbled to himself. He waited for his mother to go to the sink and he quickly performed a treasured routine of his. He swept all of the little sprouts into his hands and stuffed them in his pockets. He chuckled and then clamped his hands to his mouth to stifle the sound. He attempted to look innocent, obedient and health-conscious as his mother returned to the table. He grinned at her. She smiled at his empty plate and carried it away.

After Max had gobbled up his dessert, he hopped off of the chair and ran to his room. Now that Max was ten, cleaning his room was his own responsibility. He ensured that it "looked" clean for his mother but the closet was stuffed with crumpled up papers and clothing and under his bed...well...that was another story entirely.

Under Max's bed was a huge rotting pile of every vegetable he had been given for the past six months. He often spritzed his room with his mother's air freshener to mask the stench. All the vegetables, raw, boiled and steamed alike, had been added day by day to the ever growing pile. He tossed the sprouts under the bed where they stuck to the green slush. He pulled the blanket down to cover what was under the bed. He plopped himself down on the bed and drifted off to sleep. He was shaken awake by his mother, her face strained. Suddenly, he realized, he had forgotten to spritz the room. The smell must have finally alerted his mother. She had found him out! The jig was up. She yelled at him and he ignored the lecture, choosing instead to stare up at the ceiling.

"I can't believe you would do this! I grew most of those vegetables myself Max in our garden because I care about you. They're healthy! They're good for you. I'm not cleaning that horrendous mess, Max! You are! So get to it!" exclaimed his mother, handing him cleaning solvent and a mop, broom and spade.

She sighed exasperatedly and, clasping her head in her hands, she left the room.

Max slammed the door and locked it. He was not cleaning anything. Eventually, she would get tired of the offensive smell and she would clean it herself. He went back to sleep. The following day, Max spent the afternoon neglecting his homework and his vegetable sludge. He played video games until his mother returned from work. She went to his room and was dismayed to find the pile was still there.

"Max, I have to go back to work. My boss wants me to take the night shift as well. I'll be back before it's time for you to get up for school. Mrs Cranshare is going to watch you. Please be good for her. She's agreed to help you clean up the pile so you'll do it, won't you? See, now you have some help," said his mother with a tired smile.