EAT THE VEGGIES: A NOVEL ABOUT SEX, POWER, AND BRUSSELS SPROUTSIt was cold in Manhattan (part of New York). I had just finished having my tongue pierced when there was a knock on my door. I pulled out my sawed-off shotgun and asked who it was.
"This is Nancy Bailnoskitec from the Vegetable Awareness Emporium. I am selling brussels sprouts," she said very mechanically, but I knew she was in heat and looking for any excuse.
"Come on in. Would you like some low sodium vegetable juice?"
"No, thank you. Your sofa is so soft and warm. I enjoy rubbing it."
"Yes, and it's terrific to lie on, and there's plenty of room to move around," I said, noticing a shift in blood circulation.
Yes, we humped like two vegetarians high on beta carotene. Her vegetable juice had gotten warm, so I suggested that I get her some more. Then she had a surprise.
She had a gun on me, where she had been hiding it I'll never know.
"We have information that you've been embezzling brussels sprouts from your high-powered Wall Street marketing firm. I have enough proof to lock you up for 30 years, but I want in. If you give me 10 lbs. of sprouts a week, I can pin it on your boss, and we can have perpetual sex."
"Forget it. I wouldn't do that to him. You can't blackmail me. I know people in high places, and I know for a fact that you're stealing cabbage from your boss."
She swore she would get even and walked out.
A week later, as I was driving my Volkswagen Beetle down the highway, she pulled up next to me in a BMW and fired turnips at me. I swerved out of the way and tossed some okra at her tires, and she lost control and crashed into a corn field. I never saw her again; she's probably on her 1000th ear of corn. I just hope she has some serious intestinal fortitude.