Onions

Offer Onions
I have a small bag of onions,approx 3 pounds.
Pick up only

He walked in the door with a bag filled with onions, beaming from his great deal.

Until he saw his wife.

What are you carrying, she asked.

Onions, like you asked, he replied.

I asked for green onions, she said.

They’re a little white, he said holding up the back, but in some lights they’re green.

She rolled her eyes. He didn’t see the problem.

She turned on the computer and brought up an image. These, she said, are green onions. What you got are yellow onions.

They’re white, he protested. But that did him no good.

Can’t you just make these instead, he asked.

I could, she said, if I wasn’t allergic.

You’re allergic to what, he asked.

Any onions that aren’t green, she said. We’ve been married 25 years and you haven’t noticed that we’ve never once had a yellow onion in this house?

He thought about it and sure enough, there were never any onions in his scrambled eggs. She never made French onion soup. Hamburgers were only garnished with cheese and tomato. For the past quarter of a century, he hasn’t eaten a single onion – and he never realized it.

So, he said looking down at the three-pound bag in his hand, what do you wanna do with these?

Get them out of the house as soon as possible, she said.

Maybe I’ll make an onion salad, he said heading into the kitchen. He took an onion out of the bag and looked at it: its dark skin, its pointy top, the fact that it rolled when he put it down on the counter.

Okay, he conceited, no onion salad. You find these onions a new home, and I’m going back to the store.