The Charitable Little Old Woman
Once upon Tuesday the 8th of March, at 2.35pm, a little old woman looked out her kitchen window and noticed there was a man in her garden. She was surprised to see that the man was one of her new neighbours, who had seemed like a very nice, respectable young man when they smiled at each other as they passed in the street and not at all given to entering people's gardens uninvited. But what surprised her the most was the dark shiny green vegetable cradled in his arms, and the hole in her vegetable patch from which it obviously came.
The little old woman stormed out of her kitchen, holding a wooden spoon in her hand, waggling it fiercely at the thief. "And just what is the meaning of this, young man?"
"Get away from me, witch!" he shouted.
Now, the little old woman thought this was blatantly unfair. A year ago, the miller had refused to give her reasonably priced wheat so that she could make her own bread, insisting that she buy his ready-made version, apparently forgetting that there is no taste in the world that can beat fresh home-made bread. In a fit of anger, the little old woman had espied two pales of milk left out in the sun and pronounced "If ye will not give me wheat the milk will suffer for it!" Then, realizing the absurdity of her statement began laughing and looked to the miller to join her in her hilarity. The miller was staring at her with undisguised terror; the little old woman decided it might be a good time to leave. As she walked away, she heard the miller tell the young boy who had come to collect his milk to leave the cursed liquid alone. Consequently, it was left in the sun all day and soon went sour. The people of the village marked her as an evil, vengeful witch. The little old women thought that a basic understanding of chemistry and refrigeration, and a swift temper didn't warrant such a label but if it meant she got food stuffs cheap she was willing to let it stick.
"Keep away!" the young man shouted again.
"Young man, let's just put the vegetable down and talk about this reasonably."
"Not with a wand in your hand!"
The little old woman looked at the wooden spoon in her hand, with its bulbous unashamedly spoon-shaped end dripping chicken soup onto the garden path, and sighed. Obviously, the poor man was unstable.
She gently laid the cutlery on the ground with slow, unthreatening movements. "There you go. Now, will you kindly explain what you are doing with my rampion?"
"M-my wife wants some. She s-saw it from her window and felt such a, such a hunger for just one little bite. No, don't come near me!" he screamed, when the little old woman attempted to step forward.
She stopped in her tracks and said in a calm soothing voice, "But why did you have to steal it? Couldn't you have gone down to the grocer, I'm sure she wouldn't know the difference."
"She would! She's very clever," protested the man. "And she's watching, see, wanting to witness her man perform Valiant Deeds."
The look of absolute adoration and devotion he sent at one of the windows of his house was terrible to observe. The little old woman followed his gaze and saw a pretty young woman standing behind the glass, waving cheerfully. She was horrified to see the woman was pregnant.
"She says she will die of pining if she does not soon consume some of these delectable leaves," whispered the man, worshipfully.
A very clear picture was forming. A spoilt, domineering wife and a weak man she had twisted around her little finger; not ideal parents. Not even satisfactory parents. The little old woman made a snap decision. She could not allow these two to bring a young life into the world and expect them to look after it properly. After a few weeks, the woman would probably tire of her new toy and cast it aside. That would only happen over the little old woman's dead body! the little old woman concluded.
She snatched up the spoon and advanced on the young man, saying in a voice she hoped was suitably frightening and witch-like, "I will give ye the plant ye desire, but only for a price."
The young man seemed frozen in horror.
"A terrible price!" she added for good measure.
The young man still stood as still as one the margarine statues the little old woman was fond of making.
"I will exchange ye the shrub for the legal guardianship of your new-born child, subject to the approval of the courts."
With a great twitch, he burst into life. "Of course, of course!" he shouted over his shoulder, as he jumped the wall that connected their properties.
The speed with which the man had given up his first-born for a common garden plant reassured her that these two young people were in no way fit to be parents. So it was with relief, two months later, that she found a tiny, gorgeous girl on her doorstep with a note pinned to her blanket, Thanks for the rapunzel.
And if she happened to name the little baby after the stolen vegetable, well, she had always had a terrible sense of humour.
The end.
This is the end although, if people ask really nicely, there may just be a sequel entitled The Promiscuous Vegetable in the Tower (or words to that effect). But it'll be a wee way off, after a couple of others.