Croutons filled the sky as the salad wars raged on. How many nights would the battle continue? It had already been too many by anyone's count, but Caesar refused to relinquish the Capitol.
Major Onion's face was bright red as he shouted orders to his troops. "Get those condiments off the landing pad! We have incoming!" A young olive struggled to sweep sesame off the strip. "Yes sir!"
The Major walked to his tent and prepared to brief the new arrivals. "She was a fresh piece of pineapple," a red bean mused, recalling happier times. "Ever think you'll see her again?" one of his comrades asked. "I couldn't say, I'm just glad she's not here in this godforsaken rim."
"Watch your sprouthole, Lieutennant," Onion said in a gruff voice. In truth, he didn't care about the bad language. The stories made the platoon homesick, and many of these brave greens were headed for the business end of a fork.
"Oh c'mon Major, there's got to be someone at home waiting for you," the red bean said.
The nerve of this Lieutennant. On the other hand, memories of his sweet Mandarin came flooding into his thoughts, and Onion decided to cut his troops a break. "She was my main squeeze," he began as he absent-mindedly shuffled through his mission files. "Her eyes were as orange as her skin and she was sweet as can be. Not just some juicy tart like the other slices back home. She was the love of my life, but it just wasn't meant to be."
A tear came to the red bean's eye - Onion always made him cry. The Major's memories of home always seemed the fondest and the most vivid, but throughout all the stories he ever told his troops, he never spoke of returning.
A chopper landed outside, shredding several pounds of cheese and a good dose of pepper in its wake. Out stepped Onion's commanding officer: General Cherry. By the sound of his name you'd think he'd be sweet, and while deep down he was as savory as a seasoned tomato, when in the field he was all business.
Major Onion strode out of his tent and prepared to brief the General, but he saw someone in his custody that made him pause. There was a ring above his head like a halo, and all the ordinance in the world threatened to pour out of it. A dressing, but what kind? Was he ranch? No, didn't taste right. Perhaps blue cheese? Onion couldn't put his finger on it, but something about this soldier was fishy.
The General stopped Onion in his tracks and led him into his own tent. "This is Mike," he said at length. Mike? What an odd name. Before he could say a word, though, Cherry told him news that nearly peeled the skin off Onion's back.
He spoke slowly and clearly. "He's one of Caesar's men, Major. The war's over."
"The war's over?" Onion repeated. The words failed to register until the General went on. "We lost, Major. The war's over and we lost."
An olive pit formed in the Major's stomach. The war meant so many things to so many heads of lettuce. How could they just end it? For many soldiers, the news would mean leaving the bowl for good. Time to go home. But for Major Onion it meant something more important: Caesar ran everything now.
"You've fought bravely, Major," Mike said with a wry smile spreading across his face. "I'm sure your troops look up to you very much. That's why I'd like you to break the news to them yourself. I'll be taking over operations here immediately. Please leave your files on the desk on your way out," and with a wave of Mike's hand Onion was sent away - dismissed and discarded like a used napkin. He left, and Mike pushed back his halo and got to work. He could see a lot of changes he wanted to make.
No comments:
Post a Comment