I pulled into a gas station to give my car it’s favorite unleaded drink.
A man to the left of me was filling his white minivan. I look in his direction and he smiles. I smile back and look back at the gas pump to watch my money flying away. I hear the man to my left trying to get my attention.
“You…uh….you…uh….you like onions?”
This was a weird question to start a conversation…but I had to see where this was going.
“…yes….yes I do like onions.”
“I got onions.”
I started to think to myself…onions? Was this a new hip phrase for drugs or something? Are people meeting in dark alleys and discussing “onions”? I replied:
“You do? Onions, right?”
“Oh yeah, lots of onions. Check this out.” He walks over to his trunk…and opens it up.
And…it was exactly that…onions. Lots of them…brown and yellow onions…red onions…little onions…big onions. They were not in any containers…or bags. Just a huge pile of onions in his trunk.
“I see that look on your face.”
“…look? on my face? what look?”
“You need onions. You….NEED….onions.”
“My face says that? My face…literally…is telling you…that I NEED onions.”
“Yeah…I can tell. Onions are a big deal. You cook with them…they are healthy for you. You need onions in your life.”
“I didn’t know that a NEED like that existed. But, I do like onions…but not that much. You do have a lot of onions…and I am curious to why you have so many onions…and why they are in your trunk like this.”
He got defensive.
“Oh…oh…you one of them, eh? One of THOSE people.”
“Wait..who am I?”
“You like garlic instead. You like garlic instead of onions. You one of those people.”
He kept going.
“Onions…and garlic…they don’t belong together. Nope, I watch Food Network all the time…and when they put those two together I laugh. I yell at the TV…don’t you do that Rachael Ray…don’t you do that Bobby Flay…don’t mix those.”
“Well, I sometimes mix those together..and I didn’t know that I was doing my part to hurt onion/garlic relations. But, I have to go. I’m looking at my gas meter and I spent more than I should have. Have a good day.”
He waved back and closed his treasure filled trunk of onions…and caught the eye of a woman that just pulled in.
“Hey…hey…lady. You like onions?”
I drove off and started thinking…where did this guy get all these onions? Was he waiting behind some supermarket and saw an onion deal go bad and he stole them? Did he have some underground onion farm that he was hiding? Why was he selling them from his trunk? Why did he hate garlic so much? And then I felt guilty…I should have bought some onions.