All for the Love of Peas"

Shelling peas was all he had ever wanted to do, and he wasn't about to let the nay-sayers stop him. A Harvard education was all fine and everything, but he loved peas more. They had that certain snap that reminded him of Charlie Mingus doing a jazz rift. Cream, butter, a little salt and pepper, and you could really do something with peas. What did a law degree give you that was tangible? You couldn't eat words, and peas didn't give you indigestion like court. And the green - when the green was right - he stopped for a moment, dreaming.

Shannon Bosworth strode along outside the kitchen window, casting him a winsome glance that made him feel like the Jolly Green Giant on those tv ads for peas. He felt almost ashamed at that moment. That would be suave:

"Wanna come in for some peas?"

Shannon was also into peace. The two were close. Very close. Very very close. I think that is how the expression was started. She came in and threw down her tie-dye purse in a chair, fallowing her long hair with her hands. The pea-based shampoo he'd told her about was really paying off, it was thick and slightly greenish & attracted vermin from miles around. Squeaky clean like a moss-grown log. There was just something about it that added to her allure.

"I also got some soybeans, she offered, hoping he would take the bait. She'd marry him if he could show he was open to new things. He'd stonewalled her for a whole month over the broccoli incident. He shelled tensely over the sink, heart full of strange surgings and inexpressible thoughts.

"Hey, it was just a thought..." she said, touching one well-toned bicep.

"I know..." he said, "But peas are my life. I guess I'm like a captain going down with his ship." The edge of bitterness in his voice broke her heart.

"You'll always be my captain," she said, and they hugged briefly.