pioneertown.

The morchids were in bloom. The package said, “They start off as orchids but they become something...More!”

We played a rhyming game of “morchids” and “more kids” and joked the answer was in front of us. Make more kids from morchids.

Orchis means testicle. The shape of the bulb gives it away. Morchid implies these bulbs are somehow more testicular.

With the amount we brought home, we said we’d need a morchid mortgage.

The morchids twisted out of the dirt with white filaments, glandular as they struggled sunward.

They were more vibrant, larger, more round, softer. They had textbook consistency.

At night, the morchid leaves descended, pushing off the ground like little bodybuilders.

They lifted their roots through dirt, rising with them.
The roots pulled taut, and the morchids steadied themselves.
They inched forward.
Their many heads bobbed in sway.

Did morchids want anything more? If they were more, if they inhabited a moreness, they must have more needs, more than orchids.

We were worried the newsprint asterisk next to More! read *other.