Eggplant

     This past Thursday marked the 6-year anniversary of graduating high school me. Time has a way of flying by as you get older. It's crazy for me to think that it's been 6 years since high school and 10 years since middle school.

A rare photo of me and my "twin" as graduates

     Over the course of my high school time, one of my favorite classes was Creative Writing, a class that I took my senior year -- and even inspired me to take 2 creative writing classes in college. For today's post, in homage to graduation and creative writing, I wanted to share my favorite piece from that class: an impressionistic prose piece about an eggplant. One of the beauties of creative writing was making the ordinary extraordinary, and by far the most fun I had of doing that was with...an eggplant. Happy Reading!

Eggplant

     The customers are in full swing. The shopping carts are all over the place, stacked to the brim with all sorts of groceries. Yep, it's a busy Saturday morning at Martin's...and I'm doing what I always do: slouch in the produce aisle, waiting day and night for a customer to place me in their shopping cart. Waiting is horrible. And boring. The only excitement I ever catch is when a clumsy teenager screws up bagging groceries, or any angry customer screams with displeasure at the manager. Yep, the life of an eggplant sure is exciting. 

     How can one be happy when every item in customers' shopping carts consists of generic junk food? I swear every cart has sugary cereal that's supposedly a part of "a well-balanced breakfast", pepperoni and sausage frozen pizzas, a twelve pack of Coca-Cola, a tub of vanilla ice cream, and a can of green beans, the only healthy product in sight. Those customers make me sick to my stomach. Since when does purchasing one measly can of veggies equate to a healthy lifestyle? Puh! Canned vegetables are a disgrace to the name "vegetable". They're about as healthy as Oreos. Those wanna-be vegetables only wish they were as healthy as I am. Every vegetable craves the same nutritional values that I own. I mean, I'm eggplant. Everyone knows my nutrition's amazing...but no one can purchase me without children gagging, making immature faces, or uttering, "Do I have to eat that, Mom?" What spoiled brats. What's wrong with them? If anything, they should be begging to eat me. I've never understood why everyone hates me. Maybe it's because I'm a legitimate vegetable and don't come in a can. Or maybe it's due to my idiotic name. Eggplant. What moron gave me that name. I have nothing to do with chickens or eggs. Shoot, I came before the chicken and the egg. Maybe that's why I'm hated. 

     Surely it isn't because I'm purple. I mean, who wouldn't want to eat something that's purple. Oh yeah, that same something that's a vegetable and has "egg" in its name. And here's the ultimate slap in the face: I'm not even represented on VeggieTales. Why can't eggplants love God, too? And sorry Bob, but a tomato IS NOT a vegetable. It's a fruit. Same goes for cucumbers, Larry. I mean, if those clowns can be on VeggieTales, why can't I? 

     I'm tired of this injustice. I don't belong in the produce aisle. A vegetable as fantastic as I am should not be taking a backseat to lettuce, carrots, potatoes, onions, broccoli, Brussels sprouts, cauliflower, and spinach. Spinach. Spinach. Spinach is more popular than I am - and I blame Popeye for that. And I don't care what scientists say. They may claim I'm a fruit, but I'm a vegetable at heart. It's tough being the least liked vegetable. But maybe I shouldn't care, since I know I'm amazing. Sorry kiddies, but I'm not going away. And to all you Americans who wonder why you're having health issues, here's some advice: put down that burger. Or take that ice cream cone out of your mouth. Or get some exercise. Or eat a nice heap of eggplant. Or the best option: all of the above, with an emphasis on eating copious amounts of eggplant. Do that and you'll be healthy again. 

     Yep, that's the crummy life that an eggplant lives. The only two places we ever go are the produce aisle or the compost bin. Man, it's been a slow day with no hope in sight. I guess you might as well throw me in the -- Oh wait, here comes a lady right now! Yes! This is perfect! Her husband and her two teenage boys are gagging and griping like they swallowed a bug. Good things DO happen to eggplants that wait. Bring it on, pals. See ya at dinner. 

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