Read by Michael Flamel

AAs the lazy days of Summer bid their farewell, gardens everywhere overflow with nature’s green bounty. Yet amidst this abundance lies a menace, a verdant invader lurking in unsuspecting gardens and kitchens alike—zucchinis.

Yes, the dreaded zucchini, that alien green growth that has become the favorite of the “Not-So-Green-Thumbed.” Gardeners rejoice, boasting of their ease of cultivation, proudly declaring rows upon rows of these prolific plants.

Now, don’t mistake my disdain for vegetables in general. Most veggies are delightful. Carrots, tomatoes, green beans, peas—ah, the classics! But then there’s the zucchini, the vegetable that nobody ever craved. It’s as if when the Almighty was creating vegetables, Inspiration ran out before the letter Z.

Historical anecdotes paint a vivid picture of zucchini’s infamy. Early native languages pronounced it as “too-skinni,” loosely translating to “bad hunter” or “I wish I had good food.” Norwegian lore depicts it as a dish served to hasten guests’ departure. Archaeological digs reveal zucchini artifacts used for warding off evil spirits and extracting secrets from prisoners of war.

Throughout history, zucchini remains conspicuously absent from traditional dishes and holiday feasts. No Scandinavian zucchini waffles, German mashed zucchini, or Chinese zucchini rolls. Middle Eastern falafels remain blissfully zucchini-free.

As Summer wanes, the onslaught of zucchinis intensifies. Well-meaning gardeners, eyes gleaming with zeal, descend upon unsuspecting souls, armed with oversized zucchinis, eager to share their green abundance. “Take them! Use them in everything! Meatloaf, spaghetti sauce, chili—you name it! And they’ve got vitamin Z!”

So, begrudgingly, I accept a few. And then a few more. Soon, my car seats and floors are overrun, a testament to the zucchini invasion. The nightly ritual begins—blending, chopping, flushing. Under the cover of darkness, I join fellow zucchini sufferers, sneaking to the compost pile under the weight of bags and boxes brimming with green excess.

But perhaps I’ve been too harsh. Some folks genuinely enjoy zucchinis. They are the ones with warm hearts and generous spirits, quick to share their bounty and spread kindness. And maybe, just maybe, there’s a lesson for us non-zucchini lovers—to recognize the love behind those zucchini dishes, however unpalatable they may be.

And so, as Summer bids adieu, let us bid adieu to the zucchini onslaught, with a nod to the zucchini lovers among us and a newfound appreciation for the quirks of vegetable abundance. ❖

About the Author: Jim Muyres, a seasoned writer from Mankato, Minnesota, brings humor and wit to the mundane with his tale of zucchini woes. With a passion for writing poetry and short fiction, Jim’s work reflects his love for storytelling and his keen observation of everyday life. When he’s not crafting tales, Jim can be found tending to his garden, dabbling in photography, or embarking on home remodeling projects. With a penchant for the absurdities of life, Jim’s writing invites readers to find humor in the ordinary and joy in the unexpected.