The Egg Plant

One day, Emilio McKenzie came home from school with a question for his mother.
"What's an egg plant, mummy?"
His mother said, "Go and ask your father, sweetie, I'm busy making dinner."
Emilio went to his father's office and asked him the same question.
"Not now, Emilio, I'm busy. Go and ask your mother."

But Emilio had already asked his mother. He ran back out of the front door, question still on his mind.
He sat down on the grass outside his house and poked around in the mud with a twig. Suddenly the grass in front of him went dark. He looked up to see an old man he didn't know.

"Hello!" said the man.
"Hullo," sulked Emilio.
"Do you mind if I sit down?" the man asked.
Emilio knew about stranger danger. But the man had a nice face, and besides, he had already sat down before Emilio could respond. I wonder if he knows what an egg plant is, he thought.

"Do you know what an egg plant is, sir?"
The man smiled. "Of course I do. Don't you?"
"No." replied Emilio. "I asked my mum, and she was too busy to tell me. So I asked my dad, and he was too busy too. So can you tell me please?"
"Why, of course, young man! Are you sitting comfortably?"
Emilio nodded.
"Then I will begin. Once upon a time there was a hen.
"A hen?"
"Well where else would a story about an egg start? You don't think the egg came first do you?"
Emilio shook his head.
"Well, this particular hen was remarkably beautiful. She had lovely red feathers and bright sparkly eyes. All the roosters were very fond of her. They all wanted to be her mate. She chose the kindest, most handsome rooster, and very soon, she began to prepare her nest for their first eggs. Sadly, this made all the other hens very jealous. They would say nasty things about her, and eat all the corn before she could get any. Sometimes they would even peck at her as she went past.

When she finally laid her eggs, the hen was very proud. Thirteen lovely white eggs, nestled in a bed of soft hay. She sat on them, day and night. She would have protected them with her life, if she had needed to. But after a few days, she began to get very hungry. She waited until nightfall, when all the other hens had gone to roost, and then, quick as a flash, she scrambled over to the food trough to peck at the leftovers.

After a minute or two, she returned to her nest. But oh! What a sight she was to encounter there! All her eggs were gone. The other hens, in their envy, must have taken them away and smashed them all! How she wept; the farmer and his wife were awoken by the sounds of her sorrowful cries, which went on long into the night.

In the morning light, however, the hen saw that there were two eggs left, under the hay, that had not been taken. She was overjoyed, but feared that she would lose them, once again, to that cruel flock. She decided to bury them in the soft earth beside the pond. Carefully, she brought them there and began to dig. She'd buried the first egg when suddenly she heard the sound of angry squawking.

It was the others! They'd seen her trying to save her last egg. Immediately they were upon her in a fury of beaks and claws. The hen saw red. She fought them back with all her might; sadly, they overcame her. In the morning, the farmer found her body, surrounded by feathers and eggshell."

"I don't like this story, sir" interjected Emilio. "It's sad!"
"Well," said the stranger. "a few years later, the farmer's children noticed a strange plant growing beside the pond. They'd never seen it before. They showed their father and he said he'd never seen anything like it."
"What was it?"
"Do you remember the hen's last egg?" the stranger asked.
"The baddie hens broke it," said Emilio.
"No. There was still one egg left. The one she'd managed to bury."
Emilio's eyes grew wide. "So the plant...."
"Yes." He smiled. "A few weeks later, the plant started to grow fruit. White, oval shaped fruit. Can you guess what the fruit was?"
"Eggs?" suggested Emilio.
"That's right," said the stranger. "And if you go to that farm, you will find, by the pond, an egg plant."

So that's what it is! Thought Emilio. Then his mother called him in for dinner. He thanked the stranger, and ran up the garden path. He turned back, once he got to the door, to wave. But the man had gone.

Dinner was on the table. Emilio took his seat and poked at it with the tines of his fork.
"What's this gooey thing mummy?" asked Emilio.
"Eggplant," said his mother.
Emilio was slightly crestfallen.
"Oh." he said.