There I lay, alone on a cold countertop. If I had a heart, I’m sure it would be pounding right now, racing with adrenaline.
But, I’m an onion. I have no heart.
I longed to return to my brethren. While they had been left behind, I had been taken. With no warning, the human-beasts had come charging in and plucked me right out of the fridge where I had once been so at peace.
Once again their bony fingers wrapped around me, moving me and setting me down again on a cutting board. Their fingers tightened slightly, shifting to get a good grip, and in their other hand they clutched a knife. It’s metal blade glinting beneath the glare of the overheard lights.
Steadily it came closer until it came to rest just on the outermost of my numerous layers. For a moment, the human-beast paused. Then, the knife was cutting through, quickly slicing me straight down the middle. It cut again, again, and again until at last I was nothing more than a pile of tiny pieces.
It wasn’t necessarily a painful experience, not in the way it would be for you, a human-beast, to be chopped and sliced. But, it was also far from pleasant.
Technically speaking, I can’t feel any sort of sensation. Onions don’t have feelings, right? Our only purpose in life is to be eaten by other, more important critter-beasts, right?
BUT GOSH DARN IT! THAT DOESN’T MEAN IT’S OKAY FOR YOU TO SIMPLY CHOP US UP AND THROW US IN THAT POT OF SOUP AS FAST AS YOU CAN BECAUSE YOU CAN’T STAND THE WAY WE SMELL!
My most sincere of apologies, I didn’t intend to become so passionate. But, alas, the onion kind has grown weary of this harsh and unjust treatment. Not once have we complained about the abuse given to us by you critter-beasts, not once.
Now, our time has come. No longer shall we suffer in silence while you mock us and toss about your brutal insults.
From this day forth, your tears shall fall heavily whenever you so much as cast a glance at an onion.
From this day forth, I suggest you and all your critter-beast friends watch your backs.
The Age of The Onion is near.