Aubergine

Aubergine

It was about a week ago Sunday.

I was lying in the yard with Joanie. We were under the big cottonwood. Suddenly Joanie shouted.

“Did you see that Billie?”

I’d been lying with my eyes closed, so no, I didn’t see that.

“See what?”

“Oh, it’s gone now. It was a giant flying purple something.”

I blurted out the first thing I thought of. “A one-eyed one-horned flying purple-people-eater?”

That got me a big sock in the arm.

“You goof. No. I think it was an eggplant.”

“Now who’s the goof! Eggplants don’t fly. I’d sooner believe a giant flying purple-people-eater.”

The wind came up, things began to blow around. Papers, tree limbs, lawn furniture. And sure enough, an eggplant, with a giant flying purple-people-eater.

Here came a purple alien riding that eggplant while wispy smoke trails came out the back of the vegetable. It sputtered over top of us for a moment or two. The alien looked longingly at us, but twisted the stem of that eggplant as it motored away over the top of the cottonwood.

Suddenly Mom came running to us. “Get inside! There’s a high wind warning, and this tree might come down. Scoot!”

As we ran, we tried to tell her about the eggplant, the purple alien flying. She told us if anyone touched her prized heirloom eggplants that were now just ripening, well, there’d be, well, you-know-what to pay.

After the big wind storm, we all went outside. The big cottonwood still stood. The garden was fine. But the giant heirloom eggplant was missing. In its place lay a huge amethyst crystal with a thank-you note and an invitation to visit the planet Aubergine in the Cartwheel galaxy.

W/C 295