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Who Murdered The Onion ?
The vegetables stood in a line on the shelf, suspecting each other of crime.
No one was missing but the onion himself,
Whom nobody missed at the time.
'Something has happened', the capsicum said, 'why else were we summoned like this ?'
'We're all to be questioned by Brownloaf the bread, which means something's really amiss.'
'Pipe down', said the marrow, 'you're always uptight. If you're guiltless you've nothing to fear'.
'Well it's strange for a meeting at this time of night', remarked the asparagus spear.
From the cupboard strode Brownloaf, a bun at his side.
He addressed all the veg as a whole.
'Someone's been killed and it's not suicide. He was murdered, god rest his poor soul'.
'But who has been murdered ?' asked the cabbage, distraught. 'Everyone seems to be here'.
'The Onion', snapped Brownloaf,'and his killer will be caught. And on that I will stake my career'.
'The onion was murdered tonight as he slept, his shells were still crispy when found.
No sign of poor onions body except a few crispy shells on the ground'.
It is known that the bulb was recently abused, my assistant the bun was advised.
The poor onions skin was awfully bruised. To someone this bulb was despised.'
'Starting with you', the tomato went red. Just the thought of her killing her lover.
'I didn't kill onion, we were to be wed'.
'I've been home here all night with my brother'.
The thought of her onion being shelled like a nut was enough to bring juice to her skin.
So Brownloaf had pity and addressed the shallot, the poor onions closest of kin.
'Did you kill the onion'? Brownloaf inquired.
'Why no, there's no motive or reason.
'Onion was a bulb I admired, a veg or bulb for all seasons'.
The cabbage was cleared and so was the chilli. The suspects were narrowing fast.
The next thing that happened made Brownloaf look silly.
The bun had found onion at last.
'I've located the onion', he said to the bread,'it looks like we've made a mistake'.
'Does this mean the onion is not really dead'. The spinach inquired of the leek.
They moved to the kitchen to behold a sad sight.
The onion cubes couldn't have been thinner.
He'd been used in the stuffing to sit overnight,
In the bird for tomorrow nights dinner.
At the poor onions funeral the veg mourned their loss.
They took turns throwing shells in the bin.
They consoled the tomato, made a sign of the cross
And together they sang one last hymn.

By gemenijo

© 2019 gemenijo (All rights reserved)


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