Roanoke Times
                 Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: WEDNESDAY, July 13, 1994                   TAG: 9407220042
SECTION: EXTRA                    PAGE: 1   EDITION: METRO 
SOURCE: Ben Beagle
DATELINE:                                 LENGTH: Medium

BRING ON THE VODKA - JUST HOLD THE TOMATO

Traditionally, this probably calls for some kind of pagan rite that celebrates the Greek goddess of agriculture - whose name escapes me right now. It was too hot for that kind of thing, however.

Besides, we are moving into the future at our house and have no time for primitive rituals. We have a CD player and a tape deck, for Pete's sake. The tape deck is kind of confusing, to be truthful here.

I can tell you and the Greek goddess of agriculture that this tomato we are talking about was as loathsome a piece of produce as I've ever seen. And I've grown some gruesome stuff in my time, pal.

It was not very big, and it looked harmless enough. But when I sliced it, there was a messy red pulp inside. No seeds. It looked like Nature gone mad.

I'll admit that before the tomato was cut I did do a brief fertility dance around the backyard.

I don't care if the neighbors saw me. These people know where I come from. They probably said: "There's Old Bennie. Looks like he may have slipped a little vodka into the iced tea again."

As far as I know, vodka would be all right with iced tea, but let's return to the Case of the Really Disgusting Tomato.

I tried to eat this dismal thing, and it tasted kind of like waxed paper that had been marinated in motor oil.

I was afraid for a while that I might have gotten some of the mutants in the tomato into my chromosomes. So far, I can report that I have the usual numbers of fingers, arms and legs, and nothing is sprouting from my head.

I think there is something in the soil out there that will one day produce an alien life form that will give Sigourney Weaver the shakes.

There are other tomatoes out there. They may be making funny sounds in the middle of the night. I dread the time when they turn red.

There is the chance they'll be perfectly normal and have seeds and be great sliced and drowned with mayonnaise on home-made bread.

This business with the home-made bread and the mayonnaise is the reason mankind began growing tomatoes in the first place; why it is worth taking chances for.

You shouldn't be surprised to learn, however, that I slipped a little vodka into the iced tea before I slice into the next one that appears to be ripe.