Jerry notices a strange, dirty man in a gray jumpsuit loitering around different parts of his apartment building. He eventually asks Kramer about it.
"Oh, that’s the groundskeeper," says Kramer.
"Groundskeeper?" replies Jerry. "But we don’t have any ground to keep!"
Kramer shrugs. “You worry too much, Jer. You can never just let someone do what they do, can you? You always gotta make some remark about it. Why can’t you just let people be, Jerry? They let you.”
Feeling sufficiently chastened, Jerry resolves to leave it alone, sure there are plenty of things in the building that the man is probably taking care of.
George’s girlfriend insists he do an all-vegetable cleanse with her, to detoxify their bodies and bring them closer to nature. He’s repulsed by the idea and by her attempt to control his eating, but he’s so deeply attracted to her that he agrees to go along with it.
Elaine dates a botanist. At first, she’s thrilled that she’s receiving so many flowers, but after a while, the routine of it fails to trigger the appropriate reward responses in her brain. When she talks to her boyfriend about her feelings, he seems disappointed at first, but then breaks into a mysterious, wide smile. Over the following several days, she receives some of the strangest-looking, most beautiful plants she’s ever seen. “I spliced them myself,” he says proudly.
The elevator doors open on the third floor, and Jerry briefly spots the groundskeeper down the hall, spreading dirt and fertilizer over the carpet. The behavior is unusual, but he’s reluctant to bring it up with Kramer out of fear of getting scolded again. “Just let him be,” he says to himself as the elevator continues down.
Several days into the vegetable cleanse, George feels fantastic. The juices aren’t the most delicious things he’s ever tasted, but most of them aren’t bad. After a week, however, he begins to notice some stiffness in his joints. He complains about it to his girlfriend, who accuses him of trying to wriggle out of the remainder of the cleanse. “Besides,” she says, “you look taller, and I think some of your hair is even growing back.” He rushes to the nearest mirror, immediately forgetting about his stiff joints.
Jerry bumps into the groundskeeper on his way to drop off his garbage.
"Any organics?" asks the man, in a cranky, hissing voice.
"Probably," says Jerry. "I don’t know."
Grinning, the man grabs the bag from him and scampers back into the alley.
"Let him be," mumbles Jerry, walking away.
On a visit to Jerry’s apartment, George realizes he’s somehow grown to be at eye level with Kramer. “This is incredible!” he shouts, shaking Kramer by the shoulders.
"Ooh, you got an iron grip," says Kramer. "Those veggies are doing you good!"
Jerry notices an unsettling gray pallor to George’s skin, but doesn’t bring it up. Nor does he mention how George’s regrown hair has a greenish tint. Just let him be, he thinks, frowning at Kramer.
Elaine feels a sharp jab early one morning, but quickly falls back asleep, thinking it was probably just some sort of insect. A few days later, her boyfriend presents her with a plant that bears a striking resemblance to her — sharp-angled leaves with black, flowing, curly vines tumbling from the top. There’s something unnerving about it, but she’s so impressed and flattered that she ignores the feeling.
Jerry rides the elevator down to the first floor, but when the doors open, there’s dirt up to his chest. Some of it spills into the elevator. He spies the legs of the groundskeeper walking around on top of the thick layer of soil. “Hey!” yells Jerry. “What’s going on?”
“Ground floor!” cackles the groundskeeper.
Shaking his head, Jerry presses a button for the second floor, but the elevator doors are unable to close. He tries to scoop it out of the way, but the groundskeeper quickly rushes over and starts shoveling more into the elevator. Soon, Jerry is completely buried, and quickly loses consciousness.
George’s legs itch. He tries to bend over to reach them, but none of his joints seem to bend anymore. It’s all right, though — he’s taller than he’s ever been.
A squirrel climbs up Elaine’s vines and she shakes it out with the help of some wind. Where am I? she thinks, very slowly, as the groundskeeper packs some fertilizer and topsoil over her roots.
Kramer sits on a bench nearby, under the shade of Jerry’s leaves, eating a sandwich. He wonders what happened to his friends.
Jerry tries to wave at him to get his attention, dropping one of his apples in the process. It rolls and lands next to one of George’s roots.
"Hey, d’you mind?" says George, slowly moaning the words over the course of the next hundred years.