Here's something I wrote a few years ago when Iwas a member of another forum. I wrote this as a post after someone hadbeen complaining about the high cost of food...and in our area theprice of tomatoes had soared to alltime records. So I started writingwhat was going to be a rant about prices, and it turned into this(guess I was pretty bored...oh, and btw, it's based on true events):
Yes, I Have No Tomatoes (Not for the faint of heart)
Day One: The Three Stewges
Okay, so I was aware that the recent storms in the southeast UnitedStates were going to have an impact on the price of some produce in ourstores, but the realization didn't hit me fully until I went groceryshopping the other night. After putting my food through the self-servecheckout, I came to the last of my items: an impressive bag oflovingly-selected tomatoes. Now, these tomatoes were of the largervariety, around the circumference of small beefsteaks, and I had pickedup seven of them, planning on using them in various recipes this week.I placed the bag on the scale, punched in the designated tomato code,waited...and proceeded to pick my jaw off the floor when the price cameup: seven tomatoes, semi-large, not-so-juicy...$25.79!!!! I couldn'tbelieve it.
So I went over to the acne-mapped teen who was supervising theself-serve checkouts - eyeing him a bit suspiciously, as he didn'tappear old enough to even know how to spell tomato - and asked him whatwas wrong. He checked on his computer, looked at me and said, 'Well,Im sorry maam
but the price is right...$25.79'. I would have burstinto tears had I been able to decide which was worse to cry about: theobvious extortion that was being allowed to take over the supermarketproduce department, or that fact that I had just been called maam. Ihesitated, then reluctantly returned four of the plump redalmost-purchases to their bin and then returned to re-weigh the ones Iwas keeping. Okay, so this time the price was a bit lower: threetomatoes, the smallest of the semi-large, not-so-juicy...$10.21. Isighed resignedly, put the tomatoes in my bag, and went home.
After putting away my groceries I looked at these tomatoes...Larry,Curly, and Moe (hey, for the price I paid, I figured they at least hadto have names) and I set all three on the counter. They stared back atme, not the least bit apologetic for their cost. In fact, when I turnedmy back I swear, one of them stifled a snicker (personally I think itwas Moe...he looked to be the bad apple of the bunch so to speak).
Dinner time, 5:00 p.m.: Larry made a heartwrenching decision. Yes, hesaw that I was preparing a salad for dinner, and knowing that one ofthem had to go, he tearfully said goodbye to his two tomato bretherenand rolled into my hands...offering himself to me as an ultimatesacrifice. 'Goodbye, Larry', I thought I heard Curly and Moe cry out,'We will never forget you'. Their little tomato eyes welled up, andjuice fell unabashedly down their little tomato cheeks. Larry'sunselfish act of kitchen-aid gallantry caused a tear to form in my eyeas well (or, was it the Spanish onion I was slicing into the dish?).
Lunchtime, 12:00 p.m., the following day:
Curly - that dear, sweet-natured not-so-juicy Curly - must have beenoverwhelmed by grief at the loss of his fallen comrade. As I stoodthere preparing a scant meal for myself, wondering what I could do tospruce it up, Curly saw me. He looked into my eyes, the sadness of hislittle vegetable (excuse me...fruit) face was unmistakable. I lookedback at him, then at Moe, and before I could utter a word, ithappened...Curly leapt into the food processor and committedtomatocide. Oh, it was terrible...there were Curly-bits everywhere,splattering the walls and table with thick red not-so-juicy chunks. Ihurriedly placed myself in front of Moe, desperate to block his viewfrom the horrific scene. After all, he'd been through enough traumaalready in losing his other brother-in-vines. Then, with a heavy heartI reached for the dishrag and began to clean up the remains.
Day Three...A Bitter End
The next morning Moe was resting on my kitchen counter, alone butsurviving. I had decided to pamper him, treat him like royalty afterall that had happened. He sat on a bed made of the softest paper towel(extra-thick absorbency), and I gave him the best view in thehouse...at the edge of the counter, next to the window which overlookedthe street. There he sat, his semi-large not-so-juicy body basking inthe sunlight of the early day. I got ready for work, my sadness overLarry and Curly lessened somewhat by the presence of my one last fruityfriend. As I prepared to leave, I leaned over and kissed him, his shortgreen stem gently tickling my face. Little did I know it would be thelast time I would see him alive.
That evening I came home toting a surprise for my little red friend.I'd stopped at the video store and picked up a copy of 'Attack Of TheKiller Tomatoes', hoping that this shlocky attempt at fruitine horrorwould help to lift Moe's spirits. I took off my coat, set down thevideo tape and called out, "Moe? Moe, I'm home"; but there was noresponse. I froze, wondering where my semi-large, not-so-juicy friendcould be. I entered the kitchen and looked. There on the counter satMoe's bed, but...he was gone. Frantically I began searching everywherefor him: on the stovetop, behind the spice rack, in the microwave...yethe was nowhere to be seen. Had Moe decided to play hide-and-seek withme? I wondered...and within moments the answer waddled up to me. Mydog, a smile on her face as large as a Cheshire cat's grin, stoodbefore me and wagged her tail with sublime innocence. And on her facewas the unmistakeable red stain of...Moe.
"How could you?!?" I shouted at my not-so-best-friend-at-the-momentcanine. "How could you eat Moe?!!?!!?" But she didn't understand...shesimply stared at me and burped. Apparently Moe wasn't all that juicy,but he did cause gas. I cried, now bereft of my three semi-large,not-so-juicy friends. They gave their lives gallantly, and I shallnever forget them.
At least, until next Tuesday...when I go shopping for groceries once more....
