Roy’s life ended in tragedy. My ex and I split up a few years ago and I had to cut Roy in half. If some here have forgotten, Roy grew from a one-leaf abused plant to a flourishing monstrosity that grew across the room and took root into a second pot on the dresser. I cut Roy in half when my breakup occurred and brought both halves to my new apartment.
I was alone, lying half dead in the gutter from abusing the bottle, and I forgot about Roy on the sunny, screened-in porch in hot-ass Florida. He dried up. HE DRIED UP, MAN!! There was nothing I could do. I dumped copious amounts of water on him. I apologized for being gone; sleeping with a busty maiden and not coming home to check on his wellbeing. As a last, desperate, attempt to save him, both of him, I wet my britches and wrung them out over his lifeless leaves, but to no avail.
Pounding on my neighbor’s door in the middle of the night, the flat-chested woman in 1287-A understood my misery and dropped by to see if there was anything, anyone, anywhere could do to save my friend(s) who I had left for dead.
She suggested that I just throw the plants in the dumpster, go to a nursery and buy a couple new plants so that’s what I did. Problem solved!