Cucumber Salad. What do you say to that? Asked a ripe cucumber with a full cucumber body that outraged the cucumber hanging next to her, who was still immature, short in size and ignorant because of her youth.
Why should I say something? She asked. Because I will soon be picked by the human and then snipped to cucumber salad. That’s great, the young cucumber was happy, so you finally get among people.
Under the knife, you greenling. That hurts and takes my life, complained the mature cucumber.
Why cucumber salad? The immature wanted to know. Maybe you serve another purpose.
You are a very clever one, not fully grown yet and already know it all.
A nearby ripening strawberry added her two cents and said that the cucumber might only be peeled and then eaten with some salt sprinkled on her.
That fate is for us all knew a gooseberry that matured on a nearby shrub.
You’re a wise guy, the long cucumber increased its indignation, neither you gooseberry nor you strawberry is processed into cucumber salad. She forced a mocking laugh. That would contradict the usual language usage. Strawberry or gooseberry salad doesn’t exist.
I am consumed unpeeled, whole, gave the strawberry in reserved pride.
Me too said the gooseberry.
You’re shaved before, the immature cucumber added some grim humour to the serious conversation. It didn’t hit as intended, at least for the gooseberry which retaliated with the remark that the still youthful cucumber soon faces the same fate.
The strawberry enhanced the scare factor by saying that small, not fully matured cukes are particularly popular for human consumption.
How do you know that? Asked the cuke with a slightly trembling voice.
From the human who walks daily through the garden and speaks to herself what she intends to do. Then I too will be delivered soon, complained the young cuke.
Of course, emphasized the mature cucumber with ghastly fatalism.
Not if you confide in me, the amateurs heard a voice that sounded neither vegetable nor fruit. A hedgehog tripped out of a salad bed. Who are you? He was collectively asked.
I am a hedgehog and live behind the compost heap.
Aha! It sounded unanimous, as if one knew, what he was for a living being. Because he knew that they didn’t know, he briefly introduced his physique with the prickly skin and his way of life. When he had finished, the gooseberry rejoiced that he was a close relative of hers.
The hedgehog grinned and confirmed the relationship. Then he explained his intention to help the moribund. Every cucumber and gooseberry should drop to the ground. With the help of his spines, he would pick them up and bring them to safe shelter behind the compost heap.
Immediately he got an agreement with the four. As both cucumbers and the gooseberry sought their fall, the hedgehog pecked the tangible strawberry on its spines, carried it behind the compost pile and ate it with joy. The others did not hear her whining.
Then he returned, picking up the gooseberry lying on the ground and transporting it to where he had eaten the strawberry. To her cries of pain, he commented on with the words, I like to eat relatives.
Although the cucumbers, especially the longer ones, were harder to carry, it didn’t save them from the hedgehog’s hunger. For the ripe cucumber, which he ate last, he took her fear of passing away as cucumber salad.
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