Bring Me A Dream

Lemon Man

Written Thursday, December 16, 2021

(Memory Prompt: "Knock, knock," "Who's there?" "Broccoli," "Broccoli who?" "Ketchup!")
(Partially inspired by "Lemon Boy" by Cavetown)

      It was seven in the evening when the old man received a knock at the door. The old man knew it was seven in the evening without looking at his clock because this was when he had his tea, piping hot, in front of one of his dusty old classic novels. The man, likewise dusty, old, and classic, was forced to abandon his tea and slouch to the door. The sight that greeted him was what he would later describe to be one that would "put an older man than I in his grave,".

      Before him stood two young boys, no older than six or seven, dressed in the most ridiculous costumes the old man had ever laid eyes on. The boy on the left was dressed in a bright green stalk, with a flamboyant felt hat that drooped into his eyes. 

      A broccoli. 

      The one on the right was much more recognizable as a bottle of ketchup, with HEINZ printed across the front.

      The boys blinked expectantly up at him, and the old man blinked back.

      Broccoli leaned towards his companion, whispering behind an inconspicuous hand, "Say the thing,"

      But Ketchup seemed transfixed. All of a sudden, he blurted, "Lemon Man!"

      Broccoli gave a jerk and poked his friend in the neck. "Shhh! Don't call him that..." his eyes trailed up to the old man's expression.

      "Lemon Man?" the old man repeated.

      "That's what they call you," Ketchup blurted before Broccoli could stop him. "The kids up the street. 'Coz you're so bitter and don't like to talk to people."

      "Adam...!" Broccoli pulled his leaves down over his eyes.

      The old man regarded them with an unreadable expression. What exactly was going on in the dusty, old, classic head of his, no one could guess. But at the last few words, his face softened slightly, into something that might have been sadness.

      Ketchup, taking no notice of his friend's embarrassment, pressed fearlessly on. "But that's not what I think."

      At this, the two in attendance looked up. The old man, attempting to regain himself, raised his eyebrows in mock interest. Oh? His eyes asked.

      "Yeah," Ketchup said fiercely. "I think they're a buncha liars, that's what I think, and I think that you jus' shy or something and maybe lonely. And I think you should come with us 'coz it's Halloween and trick'r-treatin is sum'm fun and I thought you'd like to try it out."

      "Try it out?" the old man's voice creaked and frazzled in his mustache like a disused radio.

      "Yeah," Ketchup dipped his head once in a nod, then lifted his face to the old man. His eyes burned with earnestness.

      Broccoli peeped apprehensively from under his leaves. Lemon Man was a lot less scary in person, he thought. The other kids had told him that he had fangs (What the fangs were for was left to the imagination, and Broccoli's overactive one had come up with the idea that they were for sucking lemons. This had turned out to be a very popular theory, and therefore true by all accounts of the neighborhood kids). From where he stood, Broccoli couldn't quite make out the features on Lemon Man's face, but he could tell for certain that he didn't have any fangs. He couldn't help a small spark of disappointment.

      After an eternity, the old man stirred. He turned his head to look back into his house – with his piping hot tea and dusty old classics and no one to keep him company, and then back out to his front porch, where two boys stood with bags half-full of candy and faces full of hope.

      He held his hands out.

      Ketchup took his offered hand immediately, then turned his imploring gaze to Broccoli. Broccoli hesitated a moment, but ultimately took his hand as well. It was surprisingly soft.


      It was half past nine at night when the old man returned to his home. It was just as dusty, old, and classic as when he had left it. He shut the front door, ascended quietly to his bedroom, and began to prepare himself for sleep.

      His tea had gone cold several hours before, but his pockets were full of lemon drops.

A/N: This piece was so much fun to write, hope you enjoyed! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated  :) 

All my love!
      ~GlassFoxWrites <3