The psycho princess and the satanic pea

I am one of those people who is violently anti-vegetable. I blame my mother for this, because if it hadn’t been for her dire need to make sure my brothers and I only ate wholesome, nutritious foods and never were able to eat anything fun I surely would be eating my vegetables now. I’m not prejudiced against all vegetables, most fresh, uncooked vegetables I can endure, if not enjoy (hey, I’ll always eat a salad as long as I don’t have to chop all that crap for myself), and I’ve been known for my deep personal relationship with okra and tomatoes, ah, what a torrid affair. Many cooked vegetables I can eat politely and even manage to nod my head and smile, but there are three members of the vegetable world that I despise so enduringly that no amount of manners can keep me at a table within fifty yards of their presence (at least, that is what the restraining order says).

My three vegetable arch nemeses are brussel sprouts (hey, does anyone really like these nasty ass tiny pretending to be cute little cabbages things?), lima beans (oh for the love of god, this stuff is so soft and mashy and so not as good as a potato), and peas. Oh yes, I know, peas, those cute little round green things that come in a pod and are soft and sweet and all babies love them. I’ll have you know that those cute little round things are certainly devil’s seed, and I’ll not have them near me. They are small, they have a weird consistency and they roll all around your plate and fall off your fork and get mashed down on the floor because even the cats won’t eat the damned things. I hate, hate, HATE peas.

So imagine my utter horror when, enjoying a McVeggie burger from McDonald’s, after a couple of bites I look down and see a whole McPea staring me in the face. I’m not an idiot, I mean, I know veggie burgers are simply mashed up vegetables in a tasty fried hamburger shaped patty, but I pretend I don’t understand this. I get along quite well with veggie burgers as long as no whole vegetables pop out of them. And yet here I was, face to face with the third horseman of the vegetable apocalypse, the Pea.

My first instinct was to fling the sandwich across the room, scream bloody murder, and run haphazardly out of the apartment, down the stairs, and into the streets of Thessaloniki, as far away from the Beelzebub pea as I could manage. But as I looked over at my husband happily enjoying his Big Mac and absorbed in the episode of Frasier we were watching, I thought such behavior might startle him unnecessarily, not to mention be the impetus for jokes such as “I never knew you were one pea short of a pod” and “don’t be pea-ved”. So I did what any mature adult who has a mild dislike of peas might do, and quietly removed the evil pea, with my bare hands, and threw it away.

I washed my hands repeatedly, desperately trying to remove the feeling of what it was like to touch a pea. So small, so delicate, and so, so evil. I should have crushed it between my fingers when I had the chance, but surely the stain of pea blood on my hands would never wash away, and I’d be forced to quote Shakespeare for the rest of my life.

After having survived the incident, I am only a little bit worse for wear. I’m not sure I have the strength to face another McVeggie burger again, but we’ll see. With hope and understanding, maybe the pea and I can learn to get along. But not today.