Kitchen Cruelty

KC Four: Tomato

Part Four

•Tomato•

"Tomato," I hear a deep, masculine voice with an American accent coming from outside the fridge. Apparently, the fact that I'm trying to sleep doesn't bother him. I guess tomatoes just don't matter. Our beauty sleep and stuff is just the absolute zero on humans' care-factor scale. Stupid, selfish people.

"Tomato?" another voice snorts, copying the male, this time a female sounding voice, a lot higher and it just seems more feminine. She has obviously copied the man's accent, so I don't think she's American, but I can't pinpoint where she's from.

Two people? Two people who both don't care about my sleep? That’s just plain depressing. What a great house to be bought into.

"It's tomato. To-mah-to," she laughs at the man, separating the syllables for him. I can now tell that she's Australian.

"To-mah-toe," the man drawls, mocking the female. I hear a laugh echo from one of them although it's impossible to tell which.

"To-may-to, to-ma-toe, to-may-to, to-ma-to," the female choruses, chirpily. "To-may-to, to-ma-toe, to-may-to, to-ma-to." This chick is starting to get on my nerves. "To-mah-toe, to-mah-toe, to-mah-"

"Lucy, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but," the guy makes her be quiet, listening to him. Then, I can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he continues with, "Shut up." Oh, so her name’s Lucy? Okay. That works.

‘Lucy?’ I ask telepathically, because I’m not one of those stupid pieces of fruit – like apples, for example – who talk to the humans when we know that they can’t hear us. Telepathy has a slightly larger chance at being heard. ‘Lucy, you just got owned. Suck my leaves, you annoying human.’

Both of our comments seems to give her more encouragement, though, and she happily continues to babble on, "To-mah-toe, to-mah-toe, to-mah-toe, to-mah-toe. To-mah-t-" Suddenly, Lucy shuts up as something presses against her mouth. She lets out a muffled cry in surprise but then gives in and goes silent. I then begin to here absolutely disgusting, gasping sounds and lips-smacking so I figure out that it was lips that pressed against Lucy’s mouth and they are now kissing.

I’m seriously hoping that the dude isn’t her dad or something, because that would just be plain out wrong. They are now having a major make-out session, which is just peachy, because first they wake me up, and now they decided to keep me awake for even longer by making out right in front of the fridge. ‘Get a room,’ I think angrilyto the pair of them.

A very long minute later, they seem to finally receive my telepathic message and break apart. “Tim, guess what?” Lucy asks the guy, who obviously isn’t her dad unless she’s one of the few people that makes out with their dad and then calls them by his first name.

“Yeah, Lucy?”

“Can we finally get the tomato,” she says, emphasising on the word tomato and her Australian pronounciation of it making it sound ‘to-mah-to’. Tim chuckles and Lucy continues, “Anyway, can we get the tomatoes out and have our breakfast? Please? I’m hungry.”

“Only you, Luce. Only you would say that now,” Tim laughs.

“That’s why you love me,” Lucy teases, a smile evident in her voice.

“And that’s why I’m going to marry you,” Tim responds.

‘That was totally not cheesy,’ I remark sarcastically. Seriously, kill me now. That was the worst line ever. The cheesiest line ever in the history of cheesy lines.

Lucy giggles girlishly and I can practically see her batting her eyelashes at Tim and him being all macho and grinning back at her. ‘Again with the cheesiness,’ I comment mentally. Does this couple ever give it a break? I mean, I can see that they’re a happy couple and all which is good, but do they really need to be like this in the kitchen, in front of the fridge where there’s plenty of fruit who’s ears and innocence are being completely destroyed.

The fridge door breaks open and the lights turn on, temporarily blinding me. ‘Goddammit, it’s bright,’ I mentally shout to the duo. One of their hands reaches in and grabs me off the top shelf where I had been placed after being brought back from the supermarket. Another hand swoops in and grabs four more tomatoes off the shelf from next to me and they take us out of the fridge, exposing us to the heat of the outside world. Being placed on a marble counter, I realise something.

I’ve been chosen! I’m one of the special tomatoes; the chosen. ‘I feel so alive,’ I think happily to the humans. ‘I am a Chosen!’

“Oh my god, it’s so hot,” one of the other tomatoes on the counter next to me gasps, out loud.

‘Idiot,’ I mutter to her telepathically. ‘The humans could hear you! Our kind’s secret will be exposed!’ Other than me, that is. But that’s okay, because I’m extra special.

I receive no response from Oh My God Tomato and let out a mental, annoyed huff as I wait for the humans to expose their plan of how they are going to treat us. “Babe, grab the knife?” Tim requests Lucy. She reaches for the knife, grabs the handle and passes it to her fiancée. “Thanks.”

Lucy bustles around, setting up a bowl of iced water and also a pot of normal water that she begins to boil on the stove. Picking up the Oh My God Tomato from before, Tim begins to skin her and continues to do so with the other two tomatoes next to me. Then, picking me up, I brace myself for a hell of a lot of pain. Surprisingly, following the cutting off of my stem, I feel nothing. That must be where my nerves are based, I guess. ‘Thanks,’ I think to Tim, very thankfully. ‘Nice and painless. Smart.’

He then passes me to Lucy who dunks me into the now boiling pot of water. I make a splash as I go in and blush mentally. I never knew I weighed so much. I finally resurface again bob there for a moment, stuck in the boiling hot water which I swear is leaving a scar on me.

Finally, something reaches in and I am scooped out from the hot and dunked into the bowl of iced water. Internally, I sigh happily. ‘Just like my shelf in the fridge. Thanks buddy. Although, I don’t think the boiling water was really necessary,’ I comment thoughtfully. It must just be a part of the Chosen ceremony.

Tim’s hand reaches in and pulls me out of my chilly paradise and I humph a bit internally before biting it back. Then, he places me down on a chopping board and picks up a knife. “Brekky is finally, kinda sorta served! Soup,” Lucy announces happily to Tim.

I thought I was Chosen.

I can never win.

‘Soup?!’

*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A/N: HELLOOO! :D

Firstly, sorry for taking so long to upload! This is kind of a random mini story/story I write when I get bored/writers block story, so I don't bother writing much. Added to the fact that it's totally plotless :P

BUT!

I hope you liked it (:

Any particular lines you liked? Characters? Anything?

Comment and vote! <33 (: