Peril in Produce

During my trip to town this morning I stopped at the market to pick up flour and potatoes to create my homemade pierogis. A young boy in tattered clothing passed me and saw the ingredients in my cart and he said,

"Good sir, you wouldn't be happening to be making pierogis, would you?"

It took me aback for a moment, but I looked down at this sad looking boy and I replied, "Where are your parents, boy? Mind your Pa and now git!"

He looked up at me with forlorn eyes and said,

"Sorry sir, it is just that I have a pierogi secret that will change the way you think about pierogis forever."

I raised my hand as if to strike the child and he turned and sprinted down the aisle. Can you imagine, a beggar boy telling me how to make my pierogis! I was raised on pierogis. When the boy reached the end of the aisle, he tried to take a hard right and collided into the pyramid display of paper towels. He struggled for a moment to free himself from the quicksand that he was in, but his efforts were in vain. Market security swarmed him and pinned him to the ground. I stood there frozen and his innocent eyes were peeking through a mound of paper towels. With arms tied behind his back he mouthed at me,

"Mind the potatoes."

Mind the potatoes? What does it all mean? I am always extra careful with my potatoes, what was this buffoon getting at? Never mind him. This brat has probably never had a proper meal in his entire life. He probably has old, boiled potatoes and wilted cabbage on his table every night that much I can tell you.

They stood the boy up and about three grocery thugs pushed him straight through the swinging double doors that led to the produce section. I must admit that this boy's peculiar ways have certainly piqued my curiosity. I left my cart where it was, and nonchalantly walked straight through the swinging doors. Without thinking I put on a green jacket that was hanging on a peg so I could match these other Produce hooligans. I looked around for the boy to no avail, all I could see were a few of these ruffians in their green jackets sitting around a card table, all with cigars hanging out of their mouths.

"Aye, I raise you two Vidalia onions and a whole bag of green beans on this hand, and you can take that to the bank!”

The other was not impressed and he certainly let him know,

"Ahh, green beans, poor man's asparagus! I suppose you are going to throw some shredded carrots into the mix as well?"

This was immediately hit with a roar of laughter from everyone around the table. Cigar smoke billowed and mugs of beer sloshed about. Silence ensued as the funny one leaned forward at the table, pushing forth an enormous assortment of fruits and vegetables.

"All in."

Gasps made their way around the table. A goon from behind the table leaned into the funny one and said,

"Marty, even the parsnips?"

Marty snapped around and hit him with a glare that made my blood run cold. He turned back around and reiterated,

"All in."

He pushed the pile again as a lone mango hit the floor and rolled, finally stopping at my feet. All ten or so of them stopped what they were doing and looked up directly at me.

"Uh, hey fellas didn't mean to interrupt. Any of you seen a beggar boy?"

The one that was Marty hesitated but then motioned with his head down the hallway. I made my way down the canyon of boxes and pallets covered in shrink wrap. The hallway continued to get darker until sunlight started to creep along the cement floor. The loading dock! I made my way to the sunlight when those hooligans began walking towards me. They were all laughing and patting each other on the back for an apparent job well done. I tried to look like I wasn't looking for them but I believe they saw right through me.

"Can I help you friend?"

"Nope, just looking for that shipment of Iceberg, supposed to be coming around now." "Iceberg, eh? The lettuce man was here yesterday, and he said that all our lettuce needs shall be fulfilled for quite some time."

"Well friend, I guess that time is now because I am supposed to be receiving a shipment of Iceberg and Rainbow Swiss Chard."

I was impressed with how bold I was. He glanced down at my name tag in what was a very tense moment.

"Glenn. Well Glenn, I guess you better get to it."

I impressed even myself with my knowledge of edible, green, leafy things. They continued on their way and I made my way to the loading dock. I stood in a vulnerable position at the edge of the loading dock and realized that one small push would send me four feet down to my certain discomfort. I scanned the horizon but did not find much. Doing a second scan I observed a struggle coming from the dumpster tucked against the side of the building. I took a quick peek behind me to see if those fools were hot on my trails but they must have believed me. I half-ran over to the dumpster and flipped open the black flap to see two legs ruffling about in the refuge.

“Dear boy! No time for dawdling, get yourself out of that mess!”

I grabbed his right leg as if it was the Sword in the Stone and yanked it out. The boy clumsily fell out of the dumpster, grace and poise were certainly no traits of this street rat. I lifted him off the pavement by his stained, tweed jacket and pressed him firmly against the dumpster.  

 “This ends now, boy. What is this supposed secret that you hold so dear? This secret that I am positive does not exist! Well, get on with it!”

          “Perhaps you knew the secret all along, no?”

          “Boy, I do not have time for your cryptic messages!”

          He smirked as I set his feet back on the ground. He cleared his throat and adjusted his jacket.

          “Back in the produce section from whence you came, there are large boxes against the wall. Inside these boxes are loads of potatoes, the key to your delicious treats.”

          “Child, I know how to make a pierogi, I can assure you of that.”

          “Deep down at the bottom of one of these boxes, you will find something that will change your life forever.”

           He gave me a final smirk and made a mad dash towards the crowded parking lot. Much too fast for these old legs. I slipped back into the market as there was no one on the entrance to the loading dock. Remnants of vegetables and cigar smoke lingered in the air and on the floor. Their modus operandi around here is quite troublesome, and making me rethink my produce purchasing methods. Lining the whole right side of the wall were massive open boxes of potatoes upon pallets, at least four feet tall. Not knowing how long I would have this privacy I sprinted towards the boxes and leapt directly into one. I started to swim down headfirst through the potatoes, flinging those little fuckers out of my way in a scramble to get to the bottom. Nothing, not a single thing was at the bottom of this box but cardboard and potatoes. Why, my grandfather Wellington Fezzibottom III would be crawling in his grave if he could see his heir now. A respectable member of high society reduced to crawling his way amongst a sea of these herbaceous perennials. I shouldn’t even be here at all. But as the old saying goes, good help is hard to find these days. I made my way through the next two or three containers, all yielding the same results. I was nearing the bottom of another and if this one produced nothing I would have thrown in the towel. Except the closer I got to the bottom of this one, a greenish glow began to reveal itself. Maybe this boy was not as batty as I thought. At the very bottom lay a green pool that made me squint and gave off a warm glow. The peculiar thing about it was that it appeared to be liquid, yet the potatoes sat on top unfazed by the mysterious depths. Pressing my hand on it caused a soothing ripple effect across the surface and a ringing hum that hung in the air. I pressed my hand a bit farther this time and the surface tension broke and my arm submerged up to my elbow. The thought of the unknown below me made me draw my arm out, almost as an instinct. Me, a man who has sailed the seven seas and then some, apprehensive about what lies beneath. Poppycock! I collected myself and reentered my arm, farther this time. It felt warm and inviting so I did the same with my other arm and eventually my head. My recollections from here on out get a little loosey-goosey but for a brief moment in time I remember just swimming in the stuff, surrounded on all sides. I didn’t panic though, I floated in it and forgot that everything else existed. I floated towards what appeared to be an exit, still carrying me like a newborn through embryonic fluid. My somnambulant state was promptly interrupted as the tunnel drew me inwards, and catapulted me straight out. I woke up face down and half choked on the one inch of puddle water that I was submerged in. I struggled to my knees to find myself outside by the very loading dock that I had visited this morning. Life was relentless with the cruel jokes that it was playing upon me today. I finally stood to realize that I had been the subject of ridicule to some simpleton green jacket wearing produce department buffoons. They all shared quite the laugh at my expense, and I shook my fist and shared a few choice words of my own. I continued to cough up puddle water as I found my way back to the front of the store. Nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary. I kept waiting for some sort of explanation, but nothing came. My car remained in its original location and people continued to come and go from the grocer’s market. I suppose this entire day would be a waste if I did not leave with the originally intended items. My cart was nowhere to be found so I would need to start from scratch. Who knows what time it was, my pocket watch fell out somewhere in the struggle. Now in quite a rush I hustled over to the produce section to check off every item on my list. I must have searched the entire produce section and found exactly zero potatoes. Swallowing my pride, I asked a produce department member where exactly the spuds were moved to. He gave me a peculiar look and tilted his head towards me as if he did not understand.

          “Come again friend?”

          “The potatoes! Where have all the potatoes gone?”

          “Rum Haytos? They French or something?”

          “Sir, surely you are having a laugh! Poh-tay-toes. I’ve scoured the entire department and have found nary a one.”

          “I’ll check with the boss man.”

          I stood with my mouth agape ready to formulate some sort of tirade to unleash on this lowly worker who was trying to insult my intelligence. Any produce man worth his weight in rutabagas surely knows what a potato is. Boss man emerged from out back with his face wrinkled in a way that already gave me my answer.

“Deepest apologies, traveler. We don’t have them, never heard of them, you may want to check one of those fancy organic markets on the other end of town.”

I read his eyes and he was telling the truth. At least he thought he was. This man was not having a laugh with me.

“Yes, I’ll do that” I stammered.

I slowly backed away while the produce man kept his gaze fixated on me. Nothing threatening, just a crooked little smile that did not waver and unblinking eyes. I backed away more and my hip hit the corner of a red onion display causing a terrific avalanche. I bent down to begin to pick up the onions, which was surprising to me because those onions were usually hard to come by this time of year. With one knee on the ground, I looked up and saw big, bad produce man who was still maintaining his uncomfortable grin. A sizable army of green jackets had begun to assemble behind him. The tables had surely seemed to have turned. Here I was, genuflecting before these sad sacks. I gripped the onion so tight that my eyes began to water. The exit was not too far from me. It was at least closer to me than I was to them. Going back to my young roustabout days when I would play cricket with father, I wound up my arm and unleashed that onion upon them with the furies of a thousand winds! It exploded directly above Boss Man and liquefied onion started to drip down the walls. Tears welled up in the eyes of these green fools as they hit the floor, overcome with my onslaught of onions. Perhaps I have discovered a weakness. I moved faster than ever as I pelted them with onion after onion. Most of them were writhing and wailing on the floor. Some of them even called for their mother. It was time to get out of here. I turned and made my way towards the checkout where there was only one unoccupied lane that had a grocery cart blocking the path. I ran so fast my chest burned. I leapt over the grocery cart and landed on the scanning area and glided down those rolling bars with the grace of a Californian surfer. I bolted out of the door and did not stop until I arrived at my vehicle. I was lucky enough to have my keys in my pocket, the way this day has gone I would not be surprised if they had vanished. I sat with my hands at 10 and 2 and my chest heaving. As I was catching my breath, I adjusted my rearview mirror to find the boy in my back seat whittling a small piece of scrimshaw.

“Dear heavens child, get out of my vehicle at once!”

He said nothing and continued to whittle.

“I haven’t the time or the energy for this you hooligan! I need to find somewhere that can sell me a potato.”

The boy still said nothing, but looked up into the rearview with a sly smile that reflected off of his shiny pocket knife.

“You…this is all because of you, isn’t it?”

He smiled.

“But why? Why would you make me go on in a world without any potatoes?”

Still nothing. My eyes met his and I knew what his next move was. I locked the doors just as he went to make a daring escape. I started up the engine in a hurry and turned out to the main road as he attempted to kick out the back windows. His spindly, malnourished legs did not have the force required to defenestrate this impressive vehicle. I attempted to keep my eyes on the road and grab a hold of the thrashing boy at the same time and I almost drove on top of the curb. He covered my eyes as I veered across the yellow line directly into oncoming traffic. And then nothing. Well, the deafening sound of car horns in all directions and then nothing.

I woke up in the ICU in a full, body cast. Not knowing that fact I began to panic and scream as I could not move a muscle. A nurse rushed in followed by a team of doctors.

“He’s awake” one nurse yelled.

“The boy….” I managed to get these words out of my wired shut jaw.

“What happened to the boy I was with?”

The doctors hushed a few things to each other, their mouths covered by clipboards.

“Sir, you have been in an accident. You say a boy? You were alone in the vehicle sir, there was no one else.”

“Can’t be…impossible.”

“Sir you are very lucky to be alive. You were in a horrific crash.”

Apparently, my eyes rolled back into my skull and my medical team thought I was slipping back into unconsciousness.

“Sir, I need you to try to stay awake!”

I managed to keep my eyes open as one of the doctors leaned in to place some ice chips on my lips.

“I had this terrible dream, a dream that I slipped through some sort of portal and when I came out the other end, potatoes ceased to exist. I know, I know, it must be the morphine, right?”

Again, they whispered behind clipboards.

“Potatoes, sir?”

I started to slip back into an unconscious state. Or maybe it was death this time, who knew anymore. My eyes started to glaze over and my head fell back onto the soft white pillow. My vision started to blur as my eyes fell up and to the right to reveal a chair that I had not seen at first. A chair that was occupied by a lone beggar boy who was whittling away with a rather large smirk on his face. The boy started to laugh at me, and in my last moments of consciousness I saw him look at the doctors and say,

“Well, that was dramatic.”