Eat Your Brussels Sprouts

A mother wants her son to eat his brussels sprouts. Contest entry.

“Tommy, eat your brussels sprouts.”

“No!”

“Tommy,” his mother said with exaggerated patience. “Brussels sprouts are good for you. They help your immune system, give you healthier bones, and help you poop regularly.”

“Eew, that’s disgusting!”

“Trust me, that get’s more important as you get older. Now eat them.”

“No!” Tommy leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, ignoring his mother’s glare.

“If you don’t eat them, the brussels sprouts monster will get you.”

“The what?”

“The brussels sprouts monster. It’s a bit hairy monster that eats little boys who don’t eat their brussels sprouts.”

“Mom,” Tommy said as he pushed his glasses up on his nose. “You know I’m in the fourth grade, right? That might have worked when I was in kindergarten. It won’t work now.”

“Hmmmm, I guess not,” she said, giving him a speculative look. “Would you believe the brussels sprouts police?”

“Nope.”

“Brussels sprouts ICE agents?”

“Mom, seriously?”

“Well, them arresting you for not eating brussels sprouts makes as much sense as anything else. How about, eat them if you love your mother?”

“Come on mom, really? Eat them if I love you?”

“Well, they also help prevent cancer, and you know it runs in the family. Your grandpa died of cancer.”

“Grandpa was 95 years old. I don’t think the cancer had much to do with it.”

“Yes, he was 95, and he ate his brussels sprouts, so eat yours.”

”Wait, you’re saying I should eat brussels sprouts to avoid cancer, but grandpa ate them and had cancer anyway. So why should I eat them?”

“Stop questioning my aphorisms with logic. Just eat them.”

“What’s an aph…what did you say?”

“An aphorism is, kind of like an old saying…, you know what, never mind what it is. Just eat your brussels sprouts. I’m not getting the ice cream out of the freezer until you do.”

“Wait, we have ice cream?” Tommy perked up noticeably. “What kind?”

“Rocky Road,” his mother said, smiling.

“Okay, that changes things.” He stuck one sprout on the end of his fork, screwed up his face, and popped it into his mouth. He chewed quickly and swallowed.

“I guess they’re not completely horrible,” he said, and he ate a few more, then pushed his plate away. “Can we have ice cream now?”

“Yes, we can,” his mother said, smiling. “I’m very proud of you for…”

She was interrupted by a crashing sound at the kitchen door. They both looked up in shock as the door burst open in a cloud of splinters, and a huge hairy creature that was all claws and teeth leapt into the kitchen. Tommy found himself in his mother’s arms as the creature ran forward with a roar, then stopped cold. It leaned over and sniffed.

“You ate them,” the creature said in a low, guttural voice. It hung its head, turned and walked dejectedly out of the house.

“Mom,” Tommy said, when he could finally speak. “Was that the brussels sprout monster?”

“I think it was,” she said, her voice trembling.

“I thought you made that up.”

“So did I.”

“Well, there was one other thing you got right. Brussels sprouts definitely help you poop.”