We, the Coronado Scribes, consist of both professional and amateur writers. We have in common a desire to learn, by sharing our efforts and listening to other writers. We hold pressure-less sessions every Wednesday, at the Coronado Library conference room, starting at 1:30. Often we have guests who wish to just listen. They are welcome, and so are you.
Each week on eCoronado, we feature a different piece of prose or poetry produced by one of our writers. Please feel free to comment or ask questions in the comment section below.
Abundance by Val Crissom
Silly me, I thought I could deal with abundance. The more zucchini I grew the better, right? Everyone would want some, right? Now months later, after those tiny, seeds were planted, I was in shock.
At first the results were innocent and exciting. Young leaves reached to the sky lush, and vigorous with boundless expectations. By mid-summer, they had taken over my garden. These slender, green, squash were ruthless and relentless. Every other vegetable was being choked out of existence by their long, strong, grasping, tendrils. There were only zucchini, zucchini, and more zucchini.
I made zucchini bread, pasta, and fritters. They were snuck into soups, salads, and disguised as fries. I stuffed them and sautéed them. My family revolted.
“No more! Eating squash at every meal has got to stop!”
They refused to even discuss zucchini jelly.
In desperation, I crept up to my neighbors doors at midnight with bags of my abundance. Rang the bell, and ran away before I was caught. I knew I’d be back next week, with more of these prolific devils. Maybe in a ski mask, I could terrorize them into taking more zucchini.
My friends stopped visiting me, after they found the bushels of zucchini I’d hidden in their trunks. Food banks laughed at me, when I offered them the stuff. People weren’t answering my calls. I noticed acquaintances crossing the street, when they saw me coming.
