Curmudgeon Meets the Black Weekend

Curmudgeon

Curmudgeon Meets the Black Weekend

by Peter Loewer

Curmudgeon came in the general store on the Saturday afternoon of the Black Friday weekend. His hair was slightly mussed and his demeanor seemed to be even worse.

“What’s happened to this country?” he asked of nobody in particular. “I sat down in front of the TV and saw people pulling guns on fellow folks in line, apparently for pushing. I saw crowds of folks streaming through store doors like running lines of carpenter ants after being disturbed in their nests. This cannot be real –”

“Seems it is,” said Mrs. Storekeep, her feelings echoed by the smile on the Breadman’s face.

“Well, I,” said Curmudgeon, “want to return to those golden days of yesteryear and in order to do so, I am going to relate some thoughts on vegetables, veggies being calm and beneficent things.

“Did you know –,” he said, much in the manner of a kindergarten teaching extolling his or her pupils to get out his or her rug and settle down for story time.

“– that instead of taking our lives in hand to shop for things we do not need, we could turn our thoughts to things past like all the good things that vegetable do? Vegetables, you know have their stories, too. And I always did wonder why nobody wrote classic poems dedicated to veggies? Why is there no “Ode to the Potato” or verses that celebrate Brussels Sprouts?”

Stunned, the folks in the store were quiet as a room full of mice.

“Concerning beans,” he said, “there’s a legend that tells of a bean travelling with a chunk of coal who became so bemused by that antics of the coal, that he split his pod-sides laughing and had to be sewn up by a tailor using black thread, hence the black spots on some beans. Pliny is reported to believe that anyone eating garlic could improve their powerful breath by chewing on a roasted beet, and in the Fifth Century Apuleius reported that beets were excellent in curing snake bite.”

“Beets for snakebite?” asked the local Vet who was in the store for a few cans of catfood.

“Yep,” said Curmudgeon, “and back in Europe, legend always said that babies were to be found in cabbage patches and the Egyptians actually built altars to honor the cabbage, not to mention that Gerarde, the vegetable writer of the Middle Ages wrote in his famous Herbal that cabbages give little nourishment and eating of the their leaves makes one gross and melancholy.

“Carrots, for example, were often called Bird’s-nest or Bees’-nest, referring to the form of the seed head being drawn together, much like the seed heads of Queen Anne’s lace — it, too, belonging to the carrot family.

“As to leeks, they are dedicated to St. David, for on his day the Welsh wear leeks in their hats. Leeks are the national emblem of Wales and the notoriety of leeks got around because the Emperor Nero at them to improve his voice and Pliny relates that he ate leeks certain days of each month with nothing else, not even a bit of bread.”

“I’m aghast,” said Mrs. Storekeep.

“I, too,” said the Breadman.

“And, I,” said the Vet.

“It even applies to politicians,” continued Curmudgion. “Pliny, who was always into good government, told of a knight under Tiberius who was accused of misgovernment, and worrying about his life being painfully taken, drank large quantities of leek juice and died without any torment.”

“Handy to know,” said the Vet.

“And remember,” said Curmudgeon as he went out the door, “a roasted onion placed in the ear is said to be good for earaches, and the juice excellent in curing deafness.”

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