A plant appears mysteriously in an unexpected full eclipse of the sun. An unwitting flower shop employee buys it, and later discovers that the plant, a sort of cartoon Venus fly trap on steroids, thrives on blood.

You know where this one is going.

Wait, you don’t? Then you must’ve missed the campy musical comedy “Little Shop of Horrors,” starring Steve Martin and Rick Moranis. The 1986 film was based on an off-Broadway musical comedy of the same name by composer Alan Menken and writer Howard Ashman. The musical was inspired by a low-budget 1960 film, which incidentally featured a young Jack Nicholson in a small, creepy part.

Catch up on the story of the mysterious plant — or rediscover it — with the latest incarnation of the musical, which opens tonight at the Tower Theatre (see “If you go”).

The play is the latest offering by Cat Call Productions, the theater startup that last year staged a well-received production of the dark musical “Cabaret.” The company, founded by Tifany and Kael LeGuyonne, has the stated goal of putting on one professional-quality, but locally-cast, production each year.

Again this year, director Deb De Grosse cast local choir teacher Rick Johnson in a starring role.

Johnson plays Seymour, a nervous, socially-inept flower shop worker who’s hopelessly in love with his co-worker, the naive, blond bombshell Audrey, played by Rebekah Sharpe.

The flower shop is located in a nasty part of town, the down-and-out Skid Row.

In one of the opening numbers, the catchy do-wop lament “Skid Row,” Seymour, Audrey and the riffraff that hang out in the street outside the shop lay out their tales of woe. This isn’t Petula Clark’s downtown:

“Downtown, where the cabs don’t stop,” they sing. “Downtown, where the food is slop/Downtown, where the hop-heads flop in the snow … Down on Skid Row.”

Audrey’s so beaten down by her life, she doesn’t even defend herself against her abusive boyfriend, Orin Scrivello, played by newcomer Michael Stumpfig.

Seymour was an orphan when the flower shop’s owner, Mr. Mushnik, took him in — but Mushnik, played by Blaine Cameron, is no altruist.

“He took me in gave me shelter, a bed, crust of bread and a job,” Seymour sings. “Treats me like dirt and calls me a slob/Which I am, so I live downtown.”

Selling flowers in a neighborhood like this isn’t easy. Things are so bad that Mushnik’s considering closing the shop.

That’s when Audrey convinces Seymour to bring out a “strange and interesting plant” he’s been cultivating in secret. She thinks perhaps an exotic plant — Seymour calls his specimen Audrey II — might drum up some business. It does. Almost immediately, a passerby stops in to marvel at the plant. Before leaving, he figures he might as well pick up $100 of roses while he’s at it.

Suddenly, the vitality of the plant becomes important; so far it’s been lackluster at best.

After Mushnik and Audrey part for the evening, Seymour sings to the plant, begging to find out what the sagging thing wants. When Seymour accidentally pricks his finger, the inanimate plant comes to life, leaning what unmistakably look like lips close to the open wound.

“A few drops won’t hurt,” Seymour says, letting his blood drip into Audrey II’s craw. “As long as you don’t make a habit of it.”

If only.

Before long, the rapidly growing Audrey II’s appetite logs a body count.

At the same time Audrey II is growing, and growing more infamous, all of Seymour’s dreams and fantasies seem to be coming true. After Audrey’s sadistic, motorcycle-riding dentist boyfriend goes missing, Audrey opens up to a relationship with Seymour. The shop is doing better than anyone ever imagined, and Mushnik wants to adopt Seymour.

When Audrey II begins to speak to Seymour, he indicates that Seymour’s luck is no coincidence.

Throughout the play, three “street urchins,” Crystal, Ronnette and Chiffon, played by Jolie Miller, Tara Johnson and Kahlia Aposhian, alternately take part in the action and comment on it.

“They’re really a Greek chorus,” De Grosse said. In ancient Greek plays, a chorus of a dozen or more characters would be used to offer commentary or summary to help audiences understand the action in a scene. Sometimes the chorus would act as the general population in a scene, while the main drama focused on the major characters, often gods and goddesses.

This chorus is a singing and dancing machine, helping to propel the story forward with a mouthy, sassy delivery and plenty of skin — not to mention voice. The Ronnettes, as the producers have taken to calling them, have some serious vocal talent.

In fact, the strong singing throughout and the live music are a major strength of this production.

The play has a visual personality, as well. The dingy skid row scenery contrasts with the eye-popping cast of characters. Audrey and The Ronnettes wear barely-there versions of 1960s fashion in comic book colors.

Audrey II’s animation adds more to the sci-fi sensibility. The plant is vocalized by the big-voiced Jermaine Golden (who also makes a few stage appearances) and the cast of puppets are animated by Evan Smith.

“I really wanted to go with that four-color cartoon graphic novel sense to it,” De Grosse said. Also the head of Mountain View High School’s theater department, she was inspired in part by watching movies over her summer break.

“I’d kind of gone on a retro, sci-fi bender this summer,” she said.

Going with that theme, the production’s camp factor is pushed to the forefront. The gas-huffing dentist, for instance, is bizarrely hilarious.

But chafing against the humor is a certain darkness, one that fans of the 1986 movie (which had a much different ending than the musical) may not remember.

“It’s not the most cheery musical ever,” De Grosse said. “It’s really about greed. What would you be like if you got everything you wanted in the world? How would it change you?”

If you go

What: “Little Shop of Horrors,” by Cat Call Productions

When: 8 p.m. tonight, Saturday, Wednesday, Thursday and Sept. 24-25; 4 p.m. Sunday

Where: Tower Theatre, 835 N.W. Wall St., Bend

Cost: $25

Contact: 541-317-0700 or www.towertheatre.org