Monotheistic Asparagus Death

A white porcelain plate, scratched with a floral border, sits idle. Asparagus that he doesn’t feel like but can’t throw away watches his every move. His mother would not be proud… she would have said, “Eat your vegetables,” and he would have eaten them, one time. He places his cutlery in a metal “X”. He’ll come back to it, signifies his knife and fork. But he won’t come back. He hates asparagus. Asparagus is death – Asparagus is a green death stick. A comic book comes to mind, he remembers the Asparagus people and how their planet was destroyed by a merciless cosmic power. The Asparagus people…the Asparaguses…the Asparagi. Does he have the power to destroy? Is he the one?

No. His hands carry the plate across the kitchen, and dump the contents in the bin under a barely rusted basin. He says aloud, “Asparaguses, your end is coming soon. But your destruction will not be reaped by my hand.” Closing the bin, he walks back to his chair. He sits, and thinks about asparagus.