The Pregnant Capsicum

THE PREGNANT CAPSICUM.


By D. Jonas Laurence



Today I cut open a yellow capsicum and found that one of the inside seeds had somehow grown into a miniature capsicum; the size of, say, a cherry tomato.
(The miniature capsicum was yellow, as well, but was shaded with green. It had come loose inside but you could see where it had been joined to the larger capsicum, like a belly button.)
The capsicum was pregnant and I cut it open and removed the seeds (and the baby capsicum) and threw them into the overflowing rubbish bin.
Then I cut up the capsicum and made an omelette with it.
So, in theory, I violently aborted the capsicum before cutting it into pieces and eating it. The evidence of this abortion I flung into a bin with little afterthought.
The bright sun shone through the dirt-smeared windows and made me warm.
I sat down and ate my omelette and felt good about the world – but I felt sorry for the capsicums.


THE END.


2nd April, 2007. Munich.