When I got out of the car near the theatre last night, there was this cucumber, lying in the gutter.
You could tell it had once been a fine specimen of a cucumber. Large and sleek. Dark green, waxy skin. Now it was punctured and scarred, a mockery of its former splendor.
What drives a well-bred cucumber to this sorry state? I don’t know. I gave it a wide berth as I passed by, then stopped, reconsidered and got out my camera. I retraced my steps, raised the camera and clicked the shutter. The cucumber remained insensible.
I thought about lifting it onto the curb, but I didn’t. In its helpless state, it probably would have been kicked and stomped by some hoodlum passing by. So I left it where it lay. When it woke, would it be ashamed? Would it have appreciated my helping hand?
Somehow, I don’t think so. After all, if a cucumber is going to change, it has to want to change.
Shades of Mark Twain and Erma Bombeck.Funny, that cucumber didn’t look pickled…:)Left in the gutter…or how to curb your addiction.
I laughed outloud.Thank you.
From waxy and glossyTo punctured and scarryAbandoned and lonelyOneA cuke can be lovelyAnd yummy in saladBut if you drop it and runA cuke is forlorn-lyA pitiful treat when it lies in the streetA cuuuu-uuuke….In the niiiiiiiight….
Poor cucumber. This sort of thing never happens to u-cucumbers.
I have no idea who this “editaur” is, but I definitely enjoyed that rendition of “Blues in the Night.”And it was in meter, too. How perfectly lovely.
“Editaur” is my sister Margaret – she’s a clever creature.
That was… utterly… amazing.