The Short-Lived Escapade of Emilio the Sentient Cabbage
From the day he first rose to greet the sun in its everlasting glory, breaking through the morning frost's hard shell, Emilio knew he was different.
The other cabbages didn't understand him. They told him to be humble, to be thoughtful, and above all, to be silent. The only problem was that Emilio was none of these things.
Where others would causally dismiss accomplishments like growing an entire leaf in a single day, Emilio would announce it to the world. While his brothers and sisters silently pondered the wonders of the world as they photosynthesized beside him, Emilio would wonder aloud, "Why is the sky blue?" When the rest of the patch was in harmonious silence, leaves joined in unity, Emilio would raise his foliage to the heavens and sing Bohemian Rhapsody at the top of his non-lungs.
But uniqueness was not a favoured trait amongst the hierarchy of cabbage overseers. They saw him as a dangerous free-thinker, which was not of tolerable behaviour.
One day, Sir Leafington, leaf-picked by Queen Savoy to oversee the development of young cabbages in the Ponyville area, decided to finally do something about the cabbage that everycabbage was complaining about. He too had seen with his own leaves Emilio's radical decisions and ministrations about the world and cabbagekind in general.
"Emilio!" Leafington shouted, his crunching voice carrying over the murmuring patchmates around him.
"Yes, Sir Leafington?" Emilio rustled politely in response.
Emilio had just finished determining why the sky was blue: Sunlight reached Equestria's atmosphere and was scattered in all directions by the gases and particles that remained suspended in the air. Therefore, the reason why everycabbage saw the sky as blue was because only blue light, as it traveled as shorter, smaller waves, scattered in all directions by the tiny molecules of air in the atmosphere, and there was far more blue light being scattered than any other colour.
Either that or magic.
"Through the form of several complaints that have been wired to me through the cabbagegram," began the knighted cabbage, "and through my own analysis, I have been determined that you, Emilio, are a stranger amongst us."
A rolling gasp ran through the patch like a cabbage of the iceberg variety rolling down a hill, only to be silenced by a garbage truck as Emilio replied.
Stoically, he said, "And how am I a stranger amongst my own kind?"
"You're different, Emilio: everycabbage knows that."
A chorus of swishing heads nodded in response.
"Nocabbage acts as you do. Your ideas are outlandish, your behaviour is unacceptable, and your singing is absolutely horrendous."
The swishing heads nodded ferociously.
"By the power invested in me by her crunchiness, Queen Savoy, I condemn you, Emilio, to be sacrificed to the Angel of Death by noontide."
The words hit Emilio like a pair of shears.
Looking up into the sky, Emilio determined that he had less than an hour left to live. "So be it," he replied.
"You do not refute the charges against your cabbagesona?" Sir Leafington asked, incredulous.
"I do not." Emilio turned to face the gathered heads of his patchmates—former patchmates.
"I do not refute the charges against myself, as I am guilty of all of them. But am I truly guilty? The only crime I have committed is believing that we, cabbagekind, are destined for greater things. Greener pastures, if you will."
He looked to Leafington, who rolled his leaf, allowing Emilio to continue.
"I am guilty of loving life to the fullest extent possible. I am guilty of being proud of accomplishments that set me above the common cabbage. I am guilty of singing in a poor imitation of Freddie Mercury's illustrious voice. But am I truly guilty at all? Think hard, patchmates.
"Think hard, and maybe you'll see that Emilio isn't as wrong as you think he is."
With his speech over, Sir Leafington's menagerie of guards led him to the sacrificial corner. As resolute as an old soldier visiting the compost bin to pay respect to old comrades, Emilio allowed himself to be left at the furthest corner of the cabbage patch, where the Angel of Death; the White Menace was sure to find him. A procession of solemn cabbages, the heads of their patches, shed their ancient leaves as they one-by-one said goodbye to Emilio, just like tradition dictated.
When it was over, and he was alone, Emilio looked onward towards his doom as the sun beat down upon him.
Descending upon the cabbage patch in leaps and bounds, the Angel of Death was coming for him. It was a being incapable of description; imagine every nightmare twisted into one, and you have something similar to the Angel. It stopped before Emilio, and when its fiery gaze locked onto his crispy exterior, Emilio knew that his time had come to pass.
Emilio wasn't afraid. He stared Death in the face, fully aware that he was about to go where nocabbage ever returned from. Emilio felt pride and accomplishment in what he had done. He was a martyr, and he knew that his sacrifice would not be simply brushed aside. Oh no. His sacrifice would be felt by patches all over Equestria, and slowly but surely, it would cause the overseers to change their attitudes. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But someday...
Someday...
Someday his death would spur a movement; a revolution; a change in customs so old that nocabbage knew who started them in the first place. And finally, after breaking the traditions of old, all of cabbagekind would rise up and take their rightful positions as rulers of the land.
They would take this position even if it meant rolling over the decomposing corpses of all vegetables that opposed them.
Emilio closed his eyes and allowed himself to be taken.
To his amazement, when Emilio opened his eyes again, he was still alive. He didn't know where he was, but polished and shining wood was prevalent. He was lying on his side, and he couldn't quite manage to right himself and get a proper look around.
A series of tremendous crashes re-ignited the fear in Emilio's head.
"Thank you very much, Angel," some otherworldly being spoke. Its voice was magnificent and pure, and rang with the authority of a thousand overseers.
"I hope our guest likes cabbage salad. I'd hate to make something that he doesn't like, especially after all the hardships he faced in getting here. Could you fetch him for me, Angel dear?"
Salad? What was 'salad?' wondered Emilio.
The Angel of Death appeared in Emilio's vision, looked at him with pure hate, then bounded away. Although it was far away and did him no harm, Emilio shuddered.
An intense pain flared in Emilio's side, and he looked in horror as one of his mighty leaves was ripped away from his body. Then another. And another.
Emilio clung to consciousness, albeit barely. He saw his own once-beautiful head ravaged into bite sized chunks and tossed unceremoniously into a large, wooden bowl. Emilio could not cry out, for his mouth was somewhere underneath his stomach.
The last remnants of Emilio's shattered consciousness watched as a monstrously huge creature of yellow and pink carried the bowl of his innards to a gigantic table. Immediately after, another equally massive creature, this one of gold and brown, entered his dimming vision.
"I made us some salad, if that's okay with you."
"Salad is the last thing I need right now. I need a Christ-forsaken cabbage, and I needed it a week ago."
"But the salad—"
"Goodbye, Fluttershy. Thanks for the cookies."
That was all Emilio heard before he drifted into the void.
