For Christmas, Daron got me a head-smackingly freaky present: the gift of germinated spores. I don’t know exactly what about me specifically said “fungus” in the holiday season, only that for the next month or two I was nurturing that ugly blob of gestational medium like a baby goddam bird.
Until, freaking FINALLY, it started giving up the goods:
So it seems I was but one recipient of Daron’s holiday spore-spree, and he used the occasion of its fruit-bearing to tell Mike and I that he’d hand-picked each type of ‘shroom to embody something about its owner-to-be. Hence, Lars got one that was singular and dramatic, Alan one that was hardy, Isabelle one that was beautiful but strong.
Leading Michael to ask, “So what about this one just said ‘Tracy’?”
“Well,” Daron shrugged, “it puts out a lot.”