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The monk left the dank abbey and smiled as the sunlight washed around him. But he didn’t have time to enjoy the lovely weather, no indeed, he had to check the peas. This was his sixth attempt at achieving a true-breeding wrinkly-seeded pea plant, and the anticipation was killing him. Just as he opened the door to the greenhouse, a mysterious figure stepped out. “Hello, Gregor,” said a man in a ragged trenchcoat, voice gravelly and low.
Gregor Mendel jumped in surprise. “GET AWAY FROM MY PEAS!”
“I’m not touching your peas…oh dear,” said the man, a look of tragedy crossing his puppy-like brow as he realized he had stepped on a beautiful purple-flowered homozygous dominant plant.
The monk had never wanted to curse more than in that moment, and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to smack the idiot that had harmed his oldest and most beloved pea plant. He marched up to the dingy figure and shook his fist. “You can never understand what you have done this day. If my peas do not grow back, I will personally see that…that…” Gregor trailed off when he realized he had no idea what he would do. Pea plants were not much of a threat.
“Hey, Padre, what was it you’re gonna do?” said another voice behind him. This one was also low, but the face that was attached included rather less puppyish humility and rather more of the attitude of hitting first and asking questions later.
“Dean!” exclaimed the trenchcoated man. “I said I could handle the pea man myself.”
“Well, Cas, clearly that wasn’t working,” replied Dean. “Look, Mr. Mendel, we’re sorry to be a bother, but we really just need some high quality pea plants.”
The monk shook his head in disbelief. “I am not some farmer to sell off my vegetables whenever you’re hungry, young man. I am a scientist, I have purpose, and-“
“I’m an angel of the Lord, and Dean Winchester says we need some good pea plants,” interrupted Castiel.
Dean nodded once. “Damn straight.”
Gregor hated that he was afraid of these mysterious men, but the fact remained that he was sure either could kill him without a thought, so he opened the greenhouse door with a long-suffering sigh. I will give them my worst cross-breeds, he thought vindictively.
The angel looked at him, hard. “We will take only your finest hybrids.”
The monk sinned by thinking Damn.
Dean pawed through various lines of plants. “Do you have any with actual, you know, edible peas in them?” he asked.
Gregor in that moment wished he had never existed. “Yes,” he muttered, and showed the man to the proper section.
Cas followed, inspecting plants as he went. “Dean, we’re going to need a bigger pod,” he said under his breath.
The monk couldn’t take it anymore. “THIS IS THE ONLY POD SIZE I HAVE. Your choices are constricted or inflated, or green or yellow. That’s all I can offer you. NO DON’T DO IT DO NOT TOUCH MY WRICKLY SEEDS SO HELP ME-“ he stopped before he sinned aloud.
Finally Dean had picked out the peas he was looking for. “Come on, Cas, let’s go. This is going to be a damned good soup…” and then the two men vanished.
Gregor staggered to a wall and leaned against it, weeping. To think that those buffoons were using his finest experimental plants in a soup…he was mortified. A single tear slid down his nose, and then he returned to the abbey, all faith lost.