Lettuce Begin...

"I care-et about you."

"Shut up Carron."

Let me just tell you, let me enlighten you, to what I have to go through everyday. I have three major problems in my life. Three problems, standing in my way of happiness and joy and whatnot.

One: I am a carrot. Why? I suppose because my mother was a carrot, and her mother, and so forth. Except for my great, great grandmother who was half-radish, but that's another story.

Two: I am a carrot stuck in a garden, which means that any day now I will be plucked from my home in the dirt and chopped into little pieces. It happened to my mother and her mother, and so forth. It's hard to have hope for the future when you know you're going to end up in a salad anyways.

Three: I am a carrot rooted next to Carron, who is quite possibly the most annoying carrot to ever exist. I mean, oh my god, how many times can a carrot make that same joke? I'll tell you: seventy-six. Seventy-six goddamn times.

I started dating Carron because she's the only other carrot within range of my roots. We were planted too far from the others, and are instead right by the radishes. I remember the horror that was my great, great grandmother and so I decided to date Carron. Big mistake.

For a while there, it was fine. Fun, even. We had things to talk about: the stars in the sky at night, whether or not Carryl was artificially tanning (she is wayyy orange), which turnip was going to be plucked next (Phil).

Then things changed. Carron grew way too clingy. Like, for example, the other day this hoe comes into the garden and Carron is like, "Whoa, why do you look so excited?"

I was excited because there was finally something being done about the pesky weeds loitering around. But of course Carron was suspicious. She thought I had some plant on the side. Who Carron? Who could I possibly be dating, Tina from the turnips? Yah right, like I have a chance with Tina.

So anyways, by now you probably can see why my life isn't exactly glamorous. But recently it got even worse. Carron decided that we should link our roots together. She thinks it's time we really connect. I obviously had no choice in the matter so now here I am, steadily (albeit, slowwwly) growing my roots towards her, so that we can be forever intertwined and whatnot. Oh my god.

But things are looking up; I can see the farmer and there is a basket in hand. This is it. This could be my way out. I know I said I would get chopped up, which isn't exactly "fun" but it is a way away from Carron. And to my delight, it appears I am being picked. Carron is shrieking and yelling that she'll always, you guessed it, "care-et about me." I pretend not to notice that she's making a scene. It's totally embarrassing and all the turnips are snickering.

Inside, the kitchen is huge and artificially bright. I am set on the counter with some others: Tom (he's a tomato), Ziek (he's a zucchini), Beth (she's a cucumber).

The farmer comes to the counter. I watch a hand take up a knife, perfect for chopping, and approach me. The other hand holds me down. I watch the gleaming blade come down towards me, and I have time for one final thought:

"Eh, better than being with Carron."