Warning: The following content may be disturbing to some, especially those of you who may be carnivores to show your support for the obscure yet conscientiously impassioned vegetable rights movement. Yes, actual vegetables sacrificed themselves to demonstrate the brutalities suffered by their kind around the world every day. I ask that you reflect upon the horrors suffered by plant beings deemed eatable by humanity, as you read on.
What follows is a perfect example of the thinking that I, Jonathan Birdsall, regularly experience that inspires associates to ask the question, "WTF is wrong with you?!"
Alas, poor little tomato. I'd like to express some measure of empathy for you as I too have gone under the knife. Sadly however, I am unable to do so, for you are about to meet the one who brings your doom. I am he.
You stand on the threshold of your demise, as I am poised over you, brandishing a glimmering stainless, steel blade, contemplating the best place for my first incision. Fear not however, fore you shall be followed by your tomato sibling, and your mutual friends, green pepper, onion, and the garlic clove triplets, hopefully to meld into one despicably tasty sauce.
You may dislike the addition of the garlic sisters, as they possess rather pungent personalities. However, I believe they are necessary as they have the ability to ward off evil. I fear that your tomato soul may seek to return to gain some measure of vengeance upon my earthly person, thus I require their protection.
It would be best for you to close your imaginary eyes as the serrated edge of the knife looms over your tender, red flesh. Worry not my little friend. You shall be reduced to a mass of sticky cubes momentarily. I know it seems heartless to dismember one such as you, but alas, the primordial desire harbored within my stomach and soul for pasta exceeds any and all hopes or dreams you may have once held for the future.
As the teeth of the knife part your skin, methodically sawing through your flesh, think of your descendents, little Toby, Tommy and Timmy. Though they are green to the ways of the world now, they shall some day ripen, and blush with a deep red hew, so that they too may experience the initial joys and eventual doom of the produce isle. I ask you to seek comfort in knowing that you shall not be around to witness the reduction of your offspring into mildly spiced salsa. Their silent screams shall not torment your soul as they are pulverized within the confines of the blender, as you shall presumably be gone from my freezer, if not this world entirely. Existence is so fleeting, and you best cherish it in your final dying moments whilst I separate your flesh into smaller and smaller pieces.
As the final stroke comes, I ask that you pardon me fore I am no Texas Chainsaw Tomato killer. I am merely a hungry bachelor, seeking to sate the famished belly that cries so mournfully for the silencing of its growls. Please do not think me sadistic or cruel little tomato. You are simply a means to a delicious end.
May your memory be ever celebrated by the hauntingly sadistic cry of, "Bon appetit!"
Your Thoughts:
As always you are welcome to leave your thoughts in the comments below or on my Facebook page: Author Jonathan Birdsall on Facebook, or on my Twitter page at: Writer Jonathan Birdsall (@writerjbird).
I humbly await your return next monday. Cheers my good readers!
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