"What are you doing?" Veggie asked as he walked into the shop.
"I'm waxing poetic," I replied.
"Waxing poetic?" Veggie asked, "It looks to me as if you're working on a motorcycle."
"Well, I'm doing that too," I answered, "I'm waxing this customer's motorcycle and there's a poem painted right here on the gas tank, see."
Veggie read the poem aloud, "Don't try and stop me, I've no where to go, no way to get there and no way to know." pondered for a few seconds and asked, "What do you think it means?"
"It means someone didn't have a clue," I answered.
"Do you still write poetry?" Veggie asked.
"Only when I'm clueless," I laughed.
"That guy's here to pick up his bike," Steve yelled from the office.
"Take his money and tell him I'm rolling it out the door," I yelled back. We didn't like doing customer work preferring instead to buy and sell but being we'd sold this particular customer a couple of expensive motorcycles over the years we weren't apt to tell him no when he came in looking for repairs or detailing. Refusing paying customers just isn't good business and it wasn't the way we did business. "So Veggie," I asked as I walked back inside. "I've been wondering about something? How is it you survived being chopped up and tossed into the compost pile? I saw it myself?"
"Well as you know, I'm a plant and not a human," Veggie answered. "And that compost pile was poorly managed and never came up to the minimum 135° Fahrenheit required to compost plant matter. So with my last breath I pushed my feet down through the compost into the rich soil beneath the pile and sprouted tiny radicle roots to take in the water and nutrients I needed to repair my wounded body."
"How long did it take?"
"Years."
"You laid in that compost pile for years?"
"I actually laid about a year before I stood upright," Veggie replied, "but even when I stood I was too weak to tear myself from the ground and travel."
"Weren't you afraid someone would find you?"
"The old farm was apparently abandoned," Veggie noted. "Sometimes kids came to play there but they all thought I was an old scarecrow."
"So how did you free yourself from your roots?" I asked.
"I just ripped myself free."
"Sounds painful."
"It was," Veggie replied, "but it's nothing I hadn't done before."
"Really?" I asked.
"It's how I came to be free from the ground in the first place," Veggie answered. "My parents raised me from a sprout and when my time finally came they ripped me from the Earth."
"That has got to be the weirdest thing I have ever heard?" It was Wooley who had just walked in behind us with an arm load of parts for a bike he was working on. "So you mean to tell me you're like an Oak Tree..."
"More like a Pine Tree," Veggie interrupted, "I'm evergreen and not deciduous."
"Oh," Wooley said, "Well that explains everything. I just thought you had some rare skin disease or something."
"Well actually I do have a disease," Veggie said. "It's called Verticillium and for plants it's terminal. I'm afraid I won't be with you very much longer."
"Is there nothing that can be done?" I asked.
"I'm afraid we didn't catch it in time," Veggie answered.
"So how long do you have left?" Wooley asked.
"Worst case, a month, if I'm lucky, a year."
Things were kind of quite around the shop for the rest of the day. I was thinking maybe I should call my therapist and schedule appointments for the entire company as everyone was becoming quite fond of the green dude. Even Donny had told me he enjoyed driving Veggie around and listening to his stories-- especially the stories about the many dumb moves I made and how Veggie had to keep saving my butt all those years ago. You can bet I would have never told him those stories. That evening as we gathered around the dinner table, Wooley asked, "Veggie, does it bother you that humans eat plants?"
"Does it bother you that some humans eat other humans?" Veggie answered with a question.
"Not unless they're eating someone I know," Steve laughed.
"Same goes for me," Veggie said. "Everybody has to eat something. I eat plants because plants are the only thing I can eat now that I'm removed from the ground. What bothers me is seeing how much humans waste. Plants waste nothing. Only the most intellectually involved animals actually waste things."
"Why do you think that is?" Donny asked.
"I think it has something to do with a need to entertain or engage one's intellect," Veggie answered. "Humans are the most wasteful animals there are but they're not the only animals who waste things. Domestic dogs and cats waste things as well. In the wild, animals eat everything they kill but domestic dogs and cats will kill just to entertain themselves then leave their dead prey laying where they killed it."
"So you think the smarter we are the more we waste?" Wooley asked.
"It certainly looks that way to the rest of the species on the planet," Veggie answered.
"So," Steve asked, "How long before the Veggiecycle is up and running?"
"All we lack now are the engine side cases," I answered. "I've been searching the Wackemall Inc. files in hopes of finding the original blueprints so Donny can more easily make us a pair but if I can't find them then I guess Donny and I will have to measure and draw up new prints."
"How will you know if you got them exactly like the originals?" Wooley asked.
"With no originals to go by we won't," I answered. "As a matter of fact, without prints or originals they won't be like the originals but we should be able to get them close enough to keep the oil in the engine and the dirt and rain on the outside."
"That's all that really matters," Veggie said.
"Well," Steve grinned, "Being you're the man who originally made the Wackemall 750, I'd say we can take that to the bank."
Continue to Black Iron.
"I'm waxing poetic," I replied.
"Waxing poetic?" Veggie asked, "It looks to me as if you're working on a motorcycle."
"Well, I'm doing that too," I answered, "I'm waxing this customer's motorcycle and there's a poem painted right here on the gas tank, see."
Veggie read the poem aloud, "Don't try and stop me, I've no where to go, no way to get there and no way to know." pondered for a few seconds and asked, "What do you think it means?"
"It means someone didn't have a clue," I answered.
"Do you still write poetry?" Veggie asked.
"Only when I'm clueless," I laughed.
"That guy's here to pick up his bike," Steve yelled from the office.
"Take his money and tell him I'm rolling it out the door," I yelled back. We didn't like doing customer work preferring instead to buy and sell but being we'd sold this particular customer a couple of expensive motorcycles over the years we weren't apt to tell him no when he came in looking for repairs or detailing. Refusing paying customers just isn't good business and it wasn't the way we did business. "So Veggie," I asked as I walked back inside. "I've been wondering about something? How is it you survived being chopped up and tossed into the compost pile? I saw it myself?"
"Well as you know, I'm a plant and not a human," Veggie answered. "And that compost pile was poorly managed and never came up to the minimum 135° Fahrenheit required to compost plant matter. So with my last breath I pushed my feet down through the compost into the rich soil beneath the pile and sprouted tiny radicle roots to take in the water and nutrients I needed to repair my wounded body."
"How long did it take?"
"Years."
"You laid in that compost pile for years?"
"I actually laid about a year before I stood upright," Veggie replied, "but even when I stood I was too weak to tear myself from the ground and travel."
"Weren't you afraid someone would find you?"
"The old farm was apparently abandoned," Veggie noted. "Sometimes kids came to play there but they all thought I was an old scarecrow."
"So how did you free yourself from your roots?" I asked.
"I just ripped myself free."
"Sounds painful."
"It was," Veggie replied, "but it's nothing I hadn't done before."
"Really?" I asked.
"It's how I came to be free from the ground in the first place," Veggie answered. "My parents raised me from a sprout and when my time finally came they ripped me from the Earth."
"That has got to be the weirdest thing I have ever heard?" It was Wooley who had just walked in behind us with an arm load of parts for a bike he was working on. "So you mean to tell me you're like an Oak Tree..."
"More like a Pine Tree," Veggie interrupted, "I'm evergreen and not deciduous."
"Oh," Wooley said, "Well that explains everything. I just thought you had some rare skin disease or something."
"Well actually I do have a disease," Veggie said. "It's called Verticillium and for plants it's terminal. I'm afraid I won't be with you very much longer."
"Is there nothing that can be done?" I asked.
"I'm afraid we didn't catch it in time," Veggie answered.
"So how long do you have left?" Wooley asked.
"Worst case, a month, if I'm lucky, a year."
Things were kind of quite around the shop for the rest of the day. I was thinking maybe I should call my therapist and schedule appointments for the entire company as everyone was becoming quite fond of the green dude. Even Donny had told me he enjoyed driving Veggie around and listening to his stories-- especially the stories about the many dumb moves I made and how Veggie had to keep saving my butt all those years ago. You can bet I would have never told him those stories. That evening as we gathered around the dinner table, Wooley asked, "Veggie, does it bother you that humans eat plants?"
"Does it bother you that some humans eat other humans?" Veggie answered with a question.
"Not unless they're eating someone I know," Steve laughed.
"Same goes for me," Veggie said. "Everybody has to eat something. I eat plants because plants are the only thing I can eat now that I'm removed from the ground. What bothers me is seeing how much humans waste. Plants waste nothing. Only the most intellectually involved animals actually waste things."
"Why do you think that is?" Donny asked.
"I think it has something to do with a need to entertain or engage one's intellect," Veggie answered. "Humans are the most wasteful animals there are but they're not the only animals who waste things. Domestic dogs and cats waste things as well. In the wild, animals eat everything they kill but domestic dogs and cats will kill just to entertain themselves then leave their dead prey laying where they killed it."
"So you think the smarter we are the more we waste?" Wooley asked.
"It certainly looks that way to the rest of the species on the planet," Veggie answered.
"So," Steve asked, "How long before the Veggiecycle is up and running?"
"All we lack now are the engine side cases," I answered. "I've been searching the Wackemall Inc. files in hopes of finding the original blueprints so Donny can more easily make us a pair but if I can't find them then I guess Donny and I will have to measure and draw up new prints."
"How will you know if you got them exactly like the originals?" Wooley asked.
"With no originals to go by we won't," I answered. "As a matter of fact, without prints or originals they won't be like the originals but we should be able to get them close enough to keep the oil in the engine and the dirt and rain on the outside."
"That's all that really matters," Veggie said.
"Well," Steve grinned, "Being you're the man who originally made the Wackemall 750, I'd say we can take that to the bank."
Continue to Black Iron.
