Barcelona. Spain. “No offense to drummers, but I want someone to look at me the way they look at their favorite lead vocalist. Or at least at bacon!”, a ruffled green lettuce leaf thought to himself on Friday during lunch as he was pulled aside once again from a delicious Angus Beef Burger. “It is the curse of my kind, I know”, the little leaf hung his head. “I feel so useless most of the time and I don’t think it’s really fair, I am basically the only healthy component of this beefy monster. Be that as it may, I am always at the bottom of any sandwich, my properties all fading next to those of cheddar cheese, bacon, beef and even those of the wrinkly pickles.
Does anyone care that I am holding the sandwich together? That without me there would be no rhythm, no beginning, and no end? That even though I am pretty much invisible, hidden behind all the other members of the Burger, it is me the one keeping the beat for the combo? No, of course not.”
There will come a day, I hope, when my kind will be respected and valued at its actual worth for the numerous health benefits it brings to the table, but also for quietly living in the shadow of other ingredients without making a fuss, without even requesting an upgrade to say, jazz drummer, you know, they do that nice thing with the brushes. Yeah….so I hope one day we get to take center stage and stop living in the shadow of…, of…en
– What, what are you laughing at, you pig?”