Onions for sale!
As I was walking to the wash-house one day, I happened upon a little man pushing a very large cart. I approached him and noticed his particularly leathery visage, which seemed to fit very well with his miniature stature..
“Good Morning,” I said.
“Good Morning yourself,” he replied.
“If you will pardon my curiosity,” I continued, “where would a leathery little chap such as yourself be going with such a large hand cart on a lovely morning like this?”
“I will not pardon your curiosity,” he replied, “but will answer nonetheless. I am taking my cart to the market .”
I looked at him ascance.
“But but but today is a Tuesday. The market is closed on a Tuesday.”
At this, the small leathery man appeared somewhat crestfallen.
“Bah,” he snorted. “What will I do with my onions now?” He opened the top of his cart, struggling somewhat to reach it. “These are perfect onions, grown by request of the King.”
I peered into the top of his cart. I saw no onions, and told him so.
“What?” he cried.
I reaffirmed my assertion.
“Of course there are onions, you fool!” he snorted. “Huge, golden onions, fit for a king!”
Taken aback by the leathery man’s obvious conviction, I reassessed the onion-to-nothing ratio of the cart and found it wanting.
“I am very sorry,” I explained to the man, “but all I see in your cart are huge, golden, nothings. Perhaps a small child has made off with them while you weren’t paying attention.”
“I always pay attention,” snapped the man, meeting me with a hard stare. “You don’t produce onions like that by being whimsical.”
He began to move off, lifting the handles of his cart back over his shoulder with not inconsiderable effort. I watched his receding figure as he stalked off towards the market bearing his fictitious onions. I continued on my way to the wash-room, swinging my empty washing bag merrily, and looking forward to spending the morning washing the clothes therein.
