Wierdos Are We

Broccoli was hanging onto the door of the refrigerator, looking way over at his human mistress’s restaurant menu. She was sitting at her kitchen table with a guy none of the foods knew. He seemed nice, the stupidly ugly clothes adorned upon his body cutting him a cute character. Chuckling, the man poured a bottle Broccoli only could assume was wine into her glass.              

Gulping, Broccoli quickly slipped back into the fridge, hugging himself. Cheese ran up to him.

“You okay, man?”            

“Yeah.”

But Broccoli’s voice trembled, and his legs felt like jelly. He didn’t want anyone going out there, ever. Even to hang on to the door. They were looking at a menu—a restaurant menu! Broccoli told Cheese to gather Tomato, Ice Cubes, Water Bottle, Frozen Pizza and Veggie Burger from downstairs on the rack below as well as from the freezer.

“They’re freeze-dancing.”        

This retort came from Tomato. Broccoli, who now placed his hands on his stalk. Shaking his wild, green, spread-out bush of a head, Broccoli spat that Tomato always had such a dilemma. “We need to escape this freezer-fridge thing if we don’t want to be eaten!”   

“Remember how Cheese had a cousin—Curds—that went into a glass and down Ricky’s throat? She’s going to eat us all—”

Tomato grabbed Cheese’s hand, and they both dashed away to the freeze dance party, escaping through a tiny hole bored between the two worlds by Broccoli himself. Escaping the open fridge one day, he had grabbed a kitchen knife and got to work sawing a circle between the two places. Broccoli smiled, coming back to reality.

Maybe that knife can scare Ricky away! We won’t have to escape—she will!  

Broccoli returned to the fridge and lunged for its door. He looked back—everyone was at the party. The refrigerator was empty save Broccoli. He did what he had always done to escape the fridge, sighing and biting his lip in disappointment when no knife was present. He made his way down to the hardwood floor, seeing a way in which he could get the knife out of the drawer. 

The knife is going to be mine again! To lunge at Ricky. I don’t care what Cheese thinks. He’s never right. Broccoli heard the couple talk over glasses of Wine, the guy laughing, his eyebrows flicking up and down as she told one funny story after another. His eyes shone with delight. A delight for her? Did he like her?

Did she like him?    

Broccoli wasn’t sure. Seeing no way he could get up, he looked over.

Ricky’s cat’s litterbox! He ran to it, grateful.

Yes—you are mine!

Broccoli’s hand grabbed it, but then froze a second. Was that the cat? Broccoli dared to step away from the lip of the crate’s door. The animal wasn’t looking at him as he entered the kitchen. Broccoli waited for the cat to go outside or curl up under his owner, but it stopped, turned and then narrowed his olive eyes down at him. Huge eyes narrowed in evil suspicion.      

“So…you’re out again, aren’t you?”

Broccoli waited for its laughter to stop and then told it to back off. Laughing even more, the cat shook his head. “You’re such a freak, food!”

“Yeah. Well, you’re owned, too. By the same person—”

Broccoli stopped. After asking the cat whether he’d help him defend his friends and himself against Ricky’s mouth by assisting him with the knife, he apologized profusely as the cat, his back to the piece of food, said nonchalantly that he’d rather be chasing mice than talking to a stupid thing like Broccoli.

“Besides, what would Silverback and his friends think?” He shivered. “Would never tell Lemonade. She’d freak!”

“Sorry. So sorry. But I need to escape with my friends. Please? Could you give me a boost up there to the freezer? I just need to get in. No—first, I need a knife to throw at Ricky so she’ll know never to eat us—”

The cat erupted into laughter, Broccoli shushing him. Slamming a paw on the hard wood floor, he howled. “Wow—I walk downstairs from my cap nap, and this thing—”

“I am not a thing. I am a piece of food, thank you very much!”

“Whatever.” The cat was deadly serious now. “I’m going out. You touch my litterbox, and I’ll feed you to Silverback and his friends. Got that?” The cat had rounded on Broccoli, and Broccoli jerked back.

“Yes—yes, sir!”

“Good.” The cat lifted its head importantly. “Hello, fresh air, Silverback and no more humiliation. Lemonade, here I come!”

Broccoli balled his hands. Jerk! Couldn’t even help a friend. Broccoli tried again to pull the litterbox, grunting and striving to get an inch towards the counter—

“Whatever. I’ll—”

“Hey, Darrel, do you want some dessert?”

“Sure! What do you have?”

“Raspberry and chocolate, Oreo Cookies and Cream and ice cream sandwiches—the ones with the mini chocolate chips. Choose your pick!”

Dessert? Broccoli stared as his owner and her boyfriend/friend whoever he was came around the kitchen counter to retrieve some ice cream. As soon as Broccoli lunged for her ankle to bite it, someone shrieked to the top of its lungs.

“A food—a piece of food! It’s moving!”

It sounded like Darrell, but Broccoli was much too freaked out to react. As the two tried grabbing him, Broccoli headed right for the cat’s door. The vertical thing was big, but Broccoli managed to make it outside just as Ricky’s fingers were about to swipe him up! On the front walkway, Broccoli whizzed around.     

My friends! Raspberry Ice Cream’s going to die!

The couple was digging into the ice cream, assumedly having shaken off the craziness. Biting his lip, a dejected Broccoli headed down the white porch stairs, across the driveway and towards the group of animals. Broccoli slowed down, calling up to three grey and white cats, them all looking at each other. When he didn’t receive an answer, Broccoli ran around, searching hurriedly for the bluish-grey Russian Blue. The cat would give him a ride now, right?

Right?

When a group of cats entered a hole, Broccoli studied all of them. But none of the ones sitting around a round thing with circular objects on them was the cat. None of the cats who held sticks, hitting the circles so they fell into the corners and sides of the thing, was a Russian Blue. Someone said, “Your turn to play pool,” and Broccoli shook his head in confusion.       

These cats are going to freak out when they see a piece of food moving around, looking for a cat! Broccoli reverted to a trashcan. Maybe these new friends could help him rescue his freezer and fridge friends in time. The trashcan, fortunately, was tipped over, but Broccoli dug through the garbage. Some milk cartons greeted him, and Broccoli nodded.

“How’s everything?”

The gloomy milk cartons complained, but Broccoli tried turning it into a positive experience. “Well, I’m striving fleeing my home with my friends. They’re stuck in the freezer and fridge of my homeowner, Ricky. She’ll eat us. It’s a fate none of us want to face, and I want to save them all!”

“Hang out with us! We’re your new friends—”

“We’ll go to the sewer after getting flushed down the toilet from the poop we’ve become. That’s not us, is it?”

One milk carton shrugged. “It’s life, man. Do you want to try to run forever?”

Broccoli stayed silent.

Thoughts came. He was a piece of food after all. What did it matter? Everyone else was going to get thrown away and then eaten by homeless people, starving alley cats or dogs, or even becoming soggy with rain. Death was inevitable. Broccoli took a deep breath. He didn’t want his friends to go down like this. He wanted to be there for them.

“Besides, we all rot. We’re all food.”

“Yeah.”

Broccoli lay down on the asphalt pavement. He closed his eyes. His mind went through all the times his friends and he had escaped at least for a little bit. Until the cat came. Or Ricky was hungry. Then everyone escaped to each other’s worlds so that the fridge food would be too hard to eat, and the frozen food would get warm hopefully so much Ricky would just throw it away. The trash was better than the ocean floor, right?   

Broccoli sat up, his eyes open now. “The trash is better than the sewer, right?”

“Everyone just rots. Look at us. Spoiled milk.” 

Broccoli studied them. Smirking, he got up. Traveling alone for the first time, he focused on everything, careful not to get stepped on or noticed. He hugged himself, shivering hard as the cold wind almost suffocated him. He comforted himself with thoughts of Ricky’s fridge. Cheese and Cottage Cheese and Pepperoni were probably wondering where he was. Suddenly, he saw something coming his way. 

The cat looked down at him.

“Please?” Broccoli lifted his hands to the cat. The cat sighed, stretched out a paw, and Broccoli climbed aboard. Once on his head between his ears, Broccoli told the cat to return him to the fridge. The cat agreed, trotting away to the house. The sky went from pale blue to dark blue. Broccoli yawned. He heard the cat yawn.

“I’ll put you here.”      

“No—I need to get back in the fridge. I’ll rot out here. I don’t want to perish without my friends!”

“It’ll just be a little bit. Besides, I heard something downstairs, and I didn’t quite get a catnap in. I want to go to sleep, okay?” The cat started lying down, and Broccoli bit his skin. The cat didn’t even react. He slid down his nose and turned around, stopping the cat. Going up to an eye, he threatened he’d poke it should the cat refuse to put him in the fridge. Laughing, the cat almost knocked Broccoli off his face.

“You poke me, and I’ll eat you!”

“Is that why I couldn’t find you? Because you were hiding—”

“I was with Silverback and his friends. Lemonade came over, and we talked about my misadventure with you.”

“Let me guess. She laughed!”

“No. She tried understanding—until I said you moved. She freaked out, and ran away. Silverback and I fell onto our backs, screaming with laughter. I couldn’t breathe—”

“Okay, okay. You had a catastrophe. Now, get me home!”

The cat, deadly serious, turned but then stood there, watching Ricky and her boyfriend/friend whoever he was go to his car. Words of affirmation were exchanged, and the cat trotted quickly to the neatly cut lawn on the left. The car vanished once off the driveway, its headlights probably oblivious to the fact that Broccoli was such a freak as a moving food. The cat moved him indoors, waited for Ricky to open the fridge after meowing and pawing at its door and put its head in. Broccoli got off, thanked him and then continued with his friends. Ricky apparently was oblivious. She looked around but then closed the door. Broccoli let out a huge breath of relief.

Then he sat there. Those milk cartons told me death was inevitable. I know they are, but it’s not death I’m worried about. It’s the way in which we’ll die. Do we want to be sliced and diced, or do we want to go down the sewer, or do we want to join our friends in the trashcan, rotting like we are? We’ll all be together in the trash!

Broccoli jumped up. He dashed to his friends in the fridge, calling a meeting. All foods, freezer and fridge foods, came together. Broccoli spoke on exchanging lives—freezer food would rot in the freezer and fridge food would just sit there, frozen, in the fridge so that Ricky would throw us all out. Someone protested that if we didn’t act, we’d be eaten or cut up. Or warmed up. Or out on the counter to thaw.

Yes, Broccoli said. He looked at everyone for a second. Everyone was discounting him. He looked down, and closed his mouth. Then he said he didn’t care about Ricky. His bright idea was to make the food look as bad as possible by putting holes or tearing chunks off of the sides or corners. Cheese and Cottage Cheese could attack one another, and Tomato and he, Broccoli, could work on making each other look as disgusting as possible. Then, when all the food was inedible at least visually, Broccoli and his friends would be going to the dump!

The plan didn’t work. Ricky grabbed a knife, and put Tomato on his side. Raising the knife, Broccoli stared in horror, Ricky slammed it down onto Tomato. A sacrifice had been made. Broccoli no longer hung onto the outside handle of the fridge door. He couldn’t talk for weeks. He sat there, closed his eyes and let his mind take him back to when Ricky first bought him at the grocery store. Then he sat up, and stared at the inside of the fridge door.

No more tomato. And, tomorrow, half of Cottage Cheese was gone. That knife idea was gone, too. Broccoli slowly slipped his hands around himself. He was going to be eaten. That was a fact.

He slowly curled into a ball, and awaited his fate.

His friends, one by one, all sat there, their eyes closed, awaiting the knife, spoon and the mouth of death. Broccoli had no one soon. One day, the fridge opened, and new foods emerged, but Broccoli shut them out. He had no desire to talk. The new foods all ignored him. He liked it. One day, Onion moved up to him.

“Hey, Broccoli. What’s cooking?” He laughed. Broccoli glared at him. He shrugged. “Hey, just making it fun. What’s with the sour attitude?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay. Bye!”

Broccoli did say goodbye to him, along with several tomatoes, some of whom said they were Tomato’s cousins. Broccoli’s face scrunched. If cousins can go, so can I. Cousins sacrifice themselves for each other and their family. So…

Broccoli sat there, until Ricky’s hand circled him. He awaited death.

And then felt he was on his back. No knife touched him. He got up and looked around.

“Hello?” It was pitch dark. He got up, and immediately slipped.

“Ow—Banana here!”

“Banana Peel?” But Broccoli’s eyes blinked. “How…where is Cottage Cheese, and Frozen Pizza? And—”

“They’ve been eaten.”

Eaten. Broccoli was told none of his friends had come with him. He inhaled very deeply and exhaled very slowly. “Okay. So I’m not here with anyone but you—”

“Yeah, and several of my other friends. Say hello, guys!”

As some crackers and pudding said they’re there with Banana Peel and some carrots and peas, Broccoli shrugged his shoulders. I guess… He sat there, smiled stiffly, all curled up. None of his friends came to relieve him of the trash. None of his friends came to rescue him. He tried rescuing them, and they came to him when in the fridge and freezer. But they never worried whether they were going to be eaten, he even said to himself. I guess—I guess we’re all on our own. Maybe I didn’t—

“Hey, man, say hello!”

“Hi.” It was forced, with no desire or care.

“Whatever!”

As Banana Peel gossiped with his friends, Broccoli hoped the cat would return. He tried climbing out of this stupid thing, but it was so dark. Banging his puny fist on the wall of the trash can, Broccoli cried out for the cat’s rescue. Hours later, he plopped down, the darkness enveloping him. His eyes grew heavy. Yawning, he curled up on his side, closing his eyes…

Broccoli’s eyes snapped open. Or at least it felt like it, because rays of the daylight streamed down onto him. He turned and looked up, shielding his face. Widening them in relief, he saw the cat, its tongue licking its lips. Yawning, the cat showed its teeth of death. Broccoli swallowed, shaking in terror.

“Hey, man, I’m here to rescue you.”

The cat grabbed Broccoli out of the trashcan, trotted out his cat door and down to Ricky’s trashcans. One had spilled but Broccoli saw his friends—Frozen Pizza, Cheese and Cottage Cheese and other good foods—all waving to him. The cat lowered its head as in a bow, and Broccoli got up.

“Um…you going or not?” The cat asked when no piece of food landed onto the sidewalk.

“Uh…” Broccoli looked at the pieces of food he lived with every single day in the fridge. Or at least had. He blinked. You know what? He said to the cat. I want you to carry me back to the fridge. And ensure I’m not with anyone. My friends and I can all rot together—separately. I don’t want to see it. And I’m sure they don’t want to watch me die, either. You’ve been kind. I want you to know that. Just let me off in the house, in the fridge.   

The cat obeyed, and Broccoli sat in his fridge home for a long time. Finally, the knife of doom approached him, Ricky’s hand around his mouth. He didn’t even bite.

What was the point if you were just going to die someday?

Broccoli’s friends, he knew, had agreed and so separated.

Okay, knife, cut me up!

Broccoli closed his eyes, wishing the cat the best nine lives ever—

“Well, that was weird!”

The laughing cat slammed the book closed, got up off his cat bed and trotted away, leaving it behind.

“Wait till I tell Lemonade, Silverback and his friends. What an adventure!”

But the cat wasn’t mean about it. He had befriended the strange and lonely cats out there, his other friends befriending others. But Lemonade had always stayed.

They two were celebrating right now.

In the pool room, with their new friends.