The Fate of Cuculetus

Cuculetus was my name, I was no beast of ancient fame, A cucumber I were, so humble, In a salad meant to tumble. In a damp fridge so cold, of a grocery store too old, I was patiently awaiting to be sooold! Thousands passed me in a flash, unimpressed by my high class, For, organic, is not cheap... And my price was, oh, so steep. Looking past my glassy prison, I tried to see, I tried to reason, The reason why, nobody reached out, Yet had no mouth, to scream or shout. I closed my eyes, in dark despair, my tears were freezing, icy air, I felt my gut all twisted up, I wanted to escape this trap. Yet no one came, all hope was lost, silently weeping on my post, I saw the world just pass me by, one by one... I was left to die. Right before the witching hour, of the death knell, closing sound, Right before the store would shut down, Fate would smile upon me, For... I... Would finally... Be found! A hand reached out, A hand old and worn, And in the basket placed me, Among bananas and corn. As we marched on, I stood up proud, In the basket tall and firm, Resting gently, on pamphlet pages, Waved the cashier goodbye, As she scanned me, a beep so loud, it still echoes, through the ages. I hadn't noticed, till that point, in my rush, to see my folly, Besides fresh produce, verdant, crisp, laid a collection, most unholy. Among foods all high in fibers, In this plastic bag of nightmares, There laid condoms and lube, A suggestion, oh so crude... The bananas stared in horror, for they knew what was coming, And the corn, ribbed, knew as well, of the doom, approaching Hell... After minutes, felt like aeons, reached our final destination, A place forgotten by time itself, and, of unhinged sexual liberation... One by one, I watched my comrades fall, A bloody sacrifice to her carnal call, Every night she picked one of us, To be used, in her den of no class. One fateful night, she reached for me, I prayed forgotten I would be, I panicked, struggled, tried to bite, I wouldn't go down, not without a fight... She looked at me, eyes all concern, I wish her hands that I could burn, Then, the unthinkable she did... She placed me by the kitchen sink. She grabbed a knife, and I rejoiced, She started slicing up my flesh, I cried with joy, my purpose fulfilled, As I was tossed, on salad fresh. And thus ends my tale, the tale of Cuculetus... Entombed in sauce vinaigrette, among iceberg and lettuce. For... Even in the darkest hour... Hope... Is not gone...