So for those who don’t know, I work in a supermarket to pay my bills whilst I study. My workplace, logically, sells fruit and vegetables. To distinguish these from each other in our computer system they call them by blatantly obvious names. I couldn’t resist the chance to turn them into little small stories.
Again, I’m really sorry this is late. We’re in the process of moving house and I have precious few moments to get anything done. Thanks for your patience :)
Shout out to my girl Tigger, who continually says ‘potatoes’ when I request ideas. I finally did it! :)
Pumpkin Crown:
The pumpkin sat buried beneath the vines, struggling to get any sunlight as his brothers and sisters outgrew him. The farmers prize, winning awards at every market far and wide. No one noticing the small, malnourished pumpkin, buried beneath overflowing vines and leaves twice his size.
He perked up with the sound of children rustling closer, wading through the overgrown bush. Their plans for Halloween thrown about with laughter. The farmer had clearly allowed them to pick anything that remained for the festivities. This was it, his chance to be free of vines that overgrew and siblings that taunted. He could finally be worth something to someone.
The first ray of sunlight that caressed his skin was like heaven. Warmth flooding over him, feeding withering leaves and revitalising his senses. “I FOUND ONE!” An excited child yelled, breaking back the vines so cool air could run through his vines. Sunlight flooding down upon him.
“It’s too small Jacob. No one will ever be able to carve it. Come along.” His heart broke at the harsh words. Broken vines crashing down upon him as the child raced off, leaving him buried beneath vines and leaves once more. His small glimpse of freedom snatched from him, leaving him worse off than before the children had ever visited.
He listened to the children as they danced down the vine, observing his siblings and deciding which one was the biggest. Everyone always took the biggest.
He didn’t know what time of day it was when near silent footsteps approached. Someone sneaking in to steal vegetables from the farmer once again. Smooth hands scooped him up, carefully lifting him above his brother's vines and into the air. Allowing him to see the night sky that had been stolen from him as a child. He was turned from side to side, hands running over every inch of his skin.
“Finally, I have found you.” The whispered words washed over his skin as his vines were cut, near silent footsteps carrying away from the only place he’d ever known as home. He was ecstatic, someone wanted him!
The trek through the dark was the best moments of his short life. A blanket wrapped around him to keep him safe from the chilling winds. His rescuer's footsteps gentle, her arms wrapped securely around him.
It was warm when he was set down, elevated above everything except the woman who rescued him. Lights like the sun danced across the giant things that kept the wind out. Illuminating the area in beautiful sunset like colours.
“I said I found it, have you got the girl?” The woman who rescued him was pacing back and forth, talking to someone that wasn’t in the room with him.
“Good. We shall be home again soon.” She turned to him, a sharp knife glinting in her hands and a soft smile on her lips.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He cried in pain as the knife slid through his skin, spoons scooping out his insides and throwing them away. Intricate details carved into his flesh that hurt beyond explanation. The lady hummed to herself as she tore away at him, not seeming to understand just how much he was hurting. His cries doing nothing to stop her actions. Continuing until there was nothing left of him but a thin band.
“Perfect.” Knives were taken away, the bits taken from him thrown into a cooking basket above the miniature source of sunlight. Before she left the room, and him, behind.
He sat there, wondering why she had been so excited to find him, and then change everything about him. Was this how his kind were treated once they left their home? Pulled apart for the enjoyment of someone else? He kept thinking about it until the lady returned. The hands that had torn him apart once more gentle as they picked him up. Wrapping him in a blanket as she carried him away again.
He had no idea where they were going, what this strange woman was planning to do with him. So he waited, there was little more he could do.
It was bright when he was uncovered, placed gently upon a pillow, surrounded by several others like him. His brothers and sisters who’d been carved into strange and terrifying shapes before being placed around him on a table.
“Soon enough my darlings, our jobs shall be complete.” The woman cackled, running away as the sun started to rise and warm his insides with its rays. People flooded the area soon after, children's laughter and screams filling the air as they danced from stall to stall, game to game, amusement to amusement. Parents following along behind, struggling to keep an eye on over-excited children.
He loved the way it felt ran up to where he was, marvelling at the way he and his siblings looked. Finally understanding why the woman did it when he saw the looks of wonder and amazement on the children's faces.
“Uncle Uncle! That one looks like a princess crown!” A young girl tugged a larger man towards him.
“Perfect for you then princess.” He uncle replied, lifting her up and carrying her through the mud to the table. Keeping her beautiful lilac gown clean.
“You simply must try it on.” The woman who had carved him lifted him from the pillow towards the child's raven curls. He couldn’t help the sense that something big was about to happen, something that would change the world forever.
“Thank you!” The child chirped as he slid into her hair, the ladies hands leaving his body so he sat on top of the child's head. He felt himself turning solid, sparks flying from him and the child, swirling up higher in the sky, enveloping him and the child as she was raised from her uncle's arms. Tingling throughout his body, then everything went black.
Potato Dirty, Potato White-Washed, Potato Red-Washed:
White Washed: Metaphor; to gloss over, or cover up vices, crimes or scandals, or to exonerate by means of a perfunctory investigation or through biased representation of data.
The known head of the cartel reclined back in the chair. Watching his own reflection in the one-way glass. He knew every newbie police recruit would be in there right now, waiting for their mentor to come strolling through that door and try to make charges stick on him. He wouldn’t lie and say none of it was true because most the time whatever crime they named he’d either done or had one of his men do. It would never stick, though, and he’d stroll out the door within hours.
Sure enough, the door opened and in came one of his dirty cops, keeping a straight face as he strode into the room and slammed the folder down on the table in front of him.
“Heard a rumour about you, John.” The cop stated, towering over him in an intimidation attempt. “Had your men washing in red recently. Got a bunch of red-washed thugs rolling around our streets, painting the city red in their wake.
“You know I’d never let my men sully my good name like that.” He pushed the folder away from him with his foot. Not bothering to look at the thousands of people that had been sliced, mashed and roasted, laid out across his streets as a warning to others.
“Your men are turning state's evidence, we have you now John Smith. You’re gonna be locked up for a long time now.” He was hauled to his feet, tied up and thrown into a cell. All without batting an eyelid, the new chief was clearly trying to flex some muscle, but there was no way that he would go to jail. He had too many dirty people on his side, bribed and threatened to keep him on the street running his business.
He was thrown in court the next day, hauled before a judge and charged with ordering manslaughter, watching as people were hauled up on the stands. Wise enough not to say anything that would end with his wrath. Well laid statements falling into uncertain stammers beneath his steady gaze. His men testifying for him and against the state, rather than what they’d promised the crown to say.
“Due to a lack of solid evidence, I find this man innocent of your accused crimes. Stop wasting my time.” The judge cut off the trail early, after hearing yet another witness claiming the state had threatened them to testify against John Smith.
“This is total white washing!” The police chief snarled, glaring in my direction as he was ordered from the courtroom. I only smirked after him, free to run my city once more.
Uck, that didn’t really turn out the way I wanted it to... I might try to find time to fix it up after the move... Sorry.
Melon’s Rock:
“Ladies and Gentlemen! Allow me to introduce to you tonight. The main act, and the melons you are all here to see! MELONS ROCK!” The band rolled out on stage amidst cheers and screams, taking up their places behind instruments and microphones.
“Thank you, thank you!” Mikey Melon called, silencing the crowds with a wave. “Are you ready to rock?!” The noise was deafening as the crowd roared back at them, “I’m sorry, I can’t hear you. I said; ARE YOU READY TO ROCK!?” The volume increased as the drummer started the intro the band's opening song. Everyone joining in within moments as they started their most well-known song.
That is all I think of when Rock Melons come through checkouts, a band of melons singing rock songs in a packed stadium...
