Benjamin the Onion

It was official: Onion Town had just been voted the most onion-related town in Vegetableland. The citizens prepared a lavish party to celebrate.

“Come to the party!” said Tony.
“I don’t know,” said a hesitant Benjamin.
“Come on, bro, you’re being totally onion right now. You could totally meet a hot onion there!”
“I don’t really do well at parties.”
“Come on.”

Benjamin was successfully pressured into going and he had never been so glad to do something he hated. There at the grand onion ball is where he first met Belle, the most beautiul onion he had ever seen. Benjamin could have never approached her but to his astonishment, Belle approached him.

“Hello!” she said with a small but merry voice.
“Hi,” muttered a lovestruck Benjamin.

They spoke for a whole hour. Benjamin couldn’t believe it. They both liked soup, they both didn’t like sandwiches, they both thought salad was okay… It was incredible. Benjamin had found the onion. The onion he wanted to be onion buddies with.

“Hey,” interjected Tony, eyeing Belle. Belle blushed.
“Oh hi, there!” she said in a voice that seemed more sensual.
“Hi,” muttered a worried Benjamin.
“Would you like to be onion buddies?” Tony asked. Benjamin was incredulous. Tony was so forward about it!
“Sure!” muttered a lovestruck Belle.
“But…” started a sinking Benjamin.
“I’m sorry, Benjamin,” Belle said perfunctorily, “But Tony is smaller.”

The party ended and Benjamin was miserable. He loved Belle. He just had to be onion buddies with her. He just had to. He had to do something.

He had to be smaller.

Benjamin went to the outskirts of Onion Town where there rested an abandoned cleaver much larger than him. Benjamin nervously put himself next to the cleaver, caught his skin, and spun around.

A layer of skin peeled off of him. Benjamin’s eyes watered a bit and he felt very tired, but he was too curious; he ran to a nearby pond to see the results.

It wasn’t nearly enough. If he was going to win over Belle, he had to be smaller than that.

It became a routine. Every day, Benjamin went to the blade, peeled off a layer of skin, and went home to rest so he could do it again the next day. He was very determined for Belle, and he was very sad about Belle.

Days turned into months, months turned into years, and Belle had buddied with many different onions. None were Benjamin.

“Dude, the town’s been talking,” Tony explained to Benjamin. “You’re—you’re really small.”
“No I’m not,” Benjamin denied.
“You’re smaller than me, dude! Way smaller!” exclaimed Tony. “Soon you’re going to peel your last layer. You’ll be onion dead!”
“I know.”
“What are you doing this for? A hot onion?”
“No.”

Neither of them were lying. Benjamin hadn’t missed a day of peeling layers and only had a handful of them left before he’d be gone. But Benjamin wasn’t doing it for Belle. Long ago, Benjamin had grown tired of crying over Belle so helplessly. He wanted control over his sadness. And when an onion peels itself, it’s the one making itself cry.