The Veggie Hop
By Lori
Calabria
“Pssst. It’s time, everyone.”
The
clinging July air was saturated with humidity and warmth. The celestial canvas
above displayed a bronze half moon and was lit by the incandescence of an
unintelligible number of stars. The sounds of mice playing tag, crickets
adjusting their syncopation, bats avoiding branches in their hunt for food, and
cars soaring past the empty highway all played parts in the night’s symphony.
A
sudden, recognizable rhythm disturbed the natural audition of the night. The Tango.
“Which
one of you gorgeous Peaches wants to dance with me? Julia?” propositioned Elvis
Tomato after a hard knock on her door.
“Sure,
handsome,” she intoned in a heavy
Elvis
escorted Julia Peach to the plywood floor that served as their dance floor.
Soon the two rounded figures were swaying their wide hips to the energetic beat
of the music, alongside a dozen or so other couples.
A
dark oblong figure could be seen atop the radio deejaying
in the spotlight of the ceiling fan. Herman Eggplant skillfully danced alone
until the song ended, and he turned to tune the radio to an appropriate song.
He was happily joined by Amanda Melon, whom he spun around and around to the
big band music of Glenn Miller.
Near
the row of refrigerators, a small ruckus had attracted a small crowd.
“You
always forget about me! Not once have you neglected to tell all the Peaches
that the party is starting. Oh no, not the curvaceous Peaches! But you always
seem to forget to give my fridge door a knock or two to tell my branched ass to
come out!” Eddie Broccoli hollered loud enough to disrupt the concentration of
a few dancing couples.
“Easy, Ed! Calm down. It’s an honest mistake. We never know
where they put you,” Joe Zucchini lamely explained.
“What
a load of rotten potatoes!” Eddie countered.
“Hey!”
“Sorry,”
the tree-like individual sheepishly apologized.
“How about a drink? Huh? What do you say, Ed?” Roberto
Pepper pleaded. He truly did not want to see the situation escalate. Those
branches hurt like hell.
“Alright,”
Eddie huffed.
The
gang headed over to the makeshift bar beneath the counter. Only one drink was
served, but it was a favorite of all those in attendance.
“Esther,
a round of Green Cocktail for me and my buddies here,” said Roberto while
indicating Eddie and Joe.
“Coming right up, Rob.”
The
portly red onion deftly mixed the sticky green grains, similar in texture to
brown sugar, with water from the sink outside. After a vigorous bout of
shaking, Esther produced a Mason jar of her prized Green Cocktail. She made
short work of pouring three servings into small orange pails.
“Drink
up, boys.”
The
trio was soon chatting and laughing felicitously between rounds of toasts and
choruses of drinking songs.
Across
the room on the dance floor, the charming Elvis Tomato was being coaxed into
singing by some of his female admirers.
“Please,
Elvis. Just one song!” a quintet of peaches whined.
“Ladies,
ladies, I’d be honored to sing for you,” Elvis agreed. He made his way through
the crowded dance floor to the radio under the spotlight.
“Heya, Herman. The girls want me to sing again. Would you
mind giving me a bit of silence after this song ends?”
“Sure, you old dog. Anything to make the
ladies happy.” Herman winked.
When
the sounds of saxophone jazz began to fade into the night, Herman turned the
radio off and introduced Elvis.
“We
have a very special treat for you tonight. One of our very own has agreed to
sing a song for us. Here he is, everyone! A star
unknown to all but us, which is why we treasure him so: Eeeelviiiiis!”
Cheers
and applause could be heard in every corner of the room. Elvis waited until the
din faded before he settled himself down and began to croon.
“Love
me tender,
Love
me sweet,
Never let me go.
You
have made my life complete,
And I love
you so.”
Elvis
continued the a cappella song in his rich tenor,
knowing he was endearing himself to every girl in the joint. He made a point to
make eye contact with as many women as possible in the hopes of getting lucky
at least once later on. When the song finished, fawning women with tears
flowing down their cheeks smiled up at Elvis.
“Looking good, Elvis. Quite a few possibilities
here.” Elvis heard a few
insistent sniffles. “Oh yeah,” he
thought as he descended into the crowd with a smirk framing his cherubic face.
The
night soon grew lighter and the majority of the party-goers took their leave
after last call on drinks. Herman Eggplant ended the night with one last tango,
during which he put on a masterful display of dancing with Sadie Nectarine. A
drunken Eddie Broccoli had to be hoisted up into the fridge by a dozen others.
As the morning light grew brighter, all but two had left the party.
“Come
on, baby. I might not be here tomorrow. Someone else might take me for their own, and you’d never see me again.”
“But,
Elvis, I-”
“Shhh. How about
a drink, hmmm?”
“But
Esther isn’t…”
“Come
on now, it isn’t that hard to mix a cocktail. I can fix you right up.”
With that,
Elvis took Lucy Peach’s hand and led her to the closed bar. He maneuvered his
rounded belly to grab an open package of mix from the deep, thin box.
“Shoot, we
need water. Wait a sec while I go grab a pitcher of water from outside,”
ordered Elvis.
“I don’t know, it’s awfully bright outside. You’ll get caught.” Lucy
looked worriedly at an overly flushed Elvis.
“Don’t
worry. It’s under control. I’ll be right back,” he assured with a quick peck on
her fuzzy cheek.
Elvis
quickly rolled into the light of day, intent on making this a very quick drink.
He had no sooner reached the pavement then he caught sight of a figure
approaching. Elvis lost control of his motion and rolled back to hit his head
on a hard surface. Ignoring the annoying pain that would surely leave a bruise,
he scrambled inside to warn Julia of the impending arrival.
A
girl in her late teens pulled up the door flap to the farmstand
and stepped inside. Here eyes were immediately drawn to the white plastic bag
on the wooden floor.
“Why
the hell is there Miracle Gro on the floor? The rats
aren’t dumb enough to eat that.” She puzzled over it
for a moment. There were no bite marks on the packaging. Nothing else was
disturbed in the stand. “Hmm… I guess Diane’s actually been using it.”
She
shrugged and put it back in the large box.