If I recall, there is a campy cult movie called “Attack of the Killer Tomatoes.” It was so popular for its bad effects and lame acting, that there was a remake, “Return of the Killer Tomatoes.” Personally, I haven’t seen the movie, but in some circles it’s a real gem.

This column has nothing to do with that movie. It does, however, have a lot to do with the attack of tomatoes. Whether they are killers or not has yet to be discovered. The tomatoes I’m referring to are hanging from nine plants in my back yard.

First off, if you’ve never grown tomatoes, nine plants is a heckuva lot of tomato plants. They should yield about a billion tomatoes. Don’t get me wrong, I love me some tomato juice, tomato soup, stuffed tomatoes and salsa and sauces. But I’m not sure I can work with a billion tomatoes. If I could turn these tomatoes into shampoo, nail polish, dog food and hardwood floor cleaner, then maybe I could accept the killer jungle growing in my garden.

It was not part of our original plan to have nine tomato plants. I usually do four plants ever year, which include cherry tomatoes, so the grand kids can pick them and eat them right off the vine, and Roma tomatoes, which, in my opinion, are hearty enough to make some great sauces. This year, I’ve got those two, but I added two heirloom tomato plants. I’ve never grown heirlooms before, but I’ve read they taste fantastic.

If you’re not familiar, heirlooms grow in all sorts of interesting colors, from purple to green striped to yellow-pink and everything in between. There are about 600 varieties of heirloom tomatoes, and I chose two. However, the name and species tags I stuck in the soil next to the plants have disappeared for both heirlooms. So, I actually have no idea what I’m growing.

These babies are as big as softballs, yet green in color. Are they supposed to be green? Will they darken? Turn red or purple? Who knows? The tomatoes are so big, and the plants so tall and wide, they are invading everything else around them, even though they are in tomato cages. These two heirloom plants are more of the killer tomato fame than, say, the tiny little cherry tomatoes. I don’t think cherry tomatoes would be considered killer tomatoes, unless of course one was stuck in your throat.

Next to my regular four tomato plants are five more plants, gifts from a friend of a friend. You see, in the spring, when the soil is dark, composted and ready to share its nutrients, it’s easy to think that growing lots and lots of stuff is going to be lots and lots of fun. Well, I’m telling you right now, growing nine tomato plants, harvesting a billion tomatoes and watching and waiting for a mystery cantaloupe-sized tomato to do something is not always a lot of fun. Sure, there are worse things: I could have nine Brussels sprout plants or nine okra plants. Yuck.

So far, I only have about 150 red tomatoes ready for picking, and half a million green tomatoes on the vine, so I haven’t had to deal with the billion just yet. And admittedly, the heirloom tomatoes are starting to do interesting things. I’m beginning to see pinks, oranges and other interesting combinations of colors appearing on my monster plants, and I’m excited to bite into one of them.

For now — while my tomatoes are not taking over the world and attacking innocent victims — they are interrupting my life just a little bit. After all, it takes a lot of time to pack up ropes and carabiners, harnesses and crampons to conquer these plants. I’m setting out today, with Dr. Livingston I presume, to bring back a couple killer tomatoes.

If I’m not back in time for next week’s column, somebody call the Jolly Green Giant.

Terri Chance is a 37-year resident of Broomfield, mother of three and an astute observer of the hilarity of everyday life. E-mail her at Wrytwon@yahoo.com.