Asparagus
There, Chester thought. That’ll show them!
Facebook had asked what was on his mind. The cursor blinked at the end of the sentence he had typed. Just three words: I hate asparagus.
He took a deep breath and nodded, figuring one couldn’t be any more succinct. He uploaded the photo he had taken earlier, a close-up of his knuckles wrapped around a tall can of Green Giant asparagus, and then Chester posted before he could think any more about it.
Two weeks he had already thought about it. Vengeance for the never-ending political season; for the continuous drama infecting his timeline from friends online and IRL, even relatives. Especially relatives. The idea seemed more delightful every time it crossed his mind, which was now often enough to call it an obsession. Today, Chester found it impossible not to type those three words. And so he did; it was done and out of his system.
Chester slept sound.
He would admit to some trepidation the next morning and barely pulled three sips from his coffee cup before sliding into his chair and opening Facebook while crust still flaked from his eyes. Chester smiled. The reaction was as predictable as imagined.
Fifty likes, which was what his best posts had earned back when he had cared, back before they infected his space with their bullshit, and, more impressively, thirty-eight shares.
Kim L, a business acquaintance, was the first of twelve comments to agree. “Ugh, I’m so with you,” and Barry R wrote, “Never met an asparagus I truly liked,” while John Y, Melissa S, Jerome K, and Billy S from high school each chimed in with “Gag,” a sentiment even more succinct than Chester’s OP. George T put a little more thought into “Spinach is so much better.” Three dissenters, Gary T, Jim H, and Lisa M, each replied “I like asparagus” in tones Chester thought ranged from confident to pathetic depending upon the brief explanations they couldn’t resist appending. Well, Jim H’s wasn’t so brief, but Chester suspected several paragraphs had been cut and pasted from Wikipedia.
Chester had struck a chord.
The results did not alter his original plan. He typed today’s message: I hate asparagus!
Same message, more distressed thanks to the exclamation mark. Responses posted fast because algorithms had indicated a definite interest in Chester’s message.
Along with more agreement and disagreement, none of it now stated in any interesting or original way, were a few repeat voices who had already grown tired of Chester’s game. “I hear you man,” wrote Billy K, “but you already told us yesterday.” Jasmine P asked “More than yesterday?” while Mary R wondered, “So what?”
On day three Chester typed: “I really hate asparagus!!!”
More of the same response and while the likes and shares grew with the comments (one from an A-list Hollywood star, unless that was bullshit), more and more of Chester’s original contacts were leaving frustrated messages wondering what it all meant and disparaging Chester for repetition. Chester didn’t care. A few friends unfriended and Aunt S, his father’s sister, asked if everything was okay, but exponentially more new friends wanted into his world. One, Thomas F, messaged him privately to ask where big Asparagus’s HQ was located, and if he should mobilize an occupation. Ursula P wrote, “All right, but who cares,” while Tim Y was more direct in writing, “Shut the fuck up already!”
Chester did not reply. To any of them. Not Thomas F’s private message, not even Aunt S’s public one.
This was not intended as debate.
Day 4: “I fucking hate asparagus.”
So long moralists, hello young and edgy.
Day 5: “Cancel asparagus.” Maybe Thomas F would run with that ball.
Day 6: “Have I ever told you how I felt about asparagus?”
Day 7: “I really really really despise the asparagus. I don’t like its looks; I don’t like its smell; and I especially don’t like its taste.”
A nationally known politician from a nonagricultural swing state congratulated Chester on his good sense and offered to have somebody from his office reach out. Chester was tempted this once, wondering, reach out to what end?
Chester took two days off and was immensely humored to find dozens of people now writing and messaging, begging him to update his asparagus status.
Chester restrained himself, opting for the cryptic move of removing the profile photo of himself and replacing it with a well-lit and dramatic low-angle photo of his Green Giant asparagus can.
Three days later Chester broke the silence with this message: “You know, I’ve never actually tried asparagus.”
“But you said you hated its taste?” Oh, quite a few messaged him so, and he had, but so what? His favorite comment was “Hypocrite!” made many times and liked almost as much as his original post. He ignored everybody.
The following day, Day 13: “I bought three cans of asparagus today, but I can’t quite bring myself to try it. I hate asparagus.”
This was met with quite a bit of friendly urging including several requests to make a video when he tried it. Chester chuckled at Max R’s comment, simply, “Pussy.” Theresa Z’s declaration of “Fake!” bothered him and was the closest Chester ever came to issuing a direct reply to any of his flock, but no. No, that wouldn’t be right.
Day 14: “I fear I’m allergic to asparagus. I don’t even want to open the can.”
Day 15: “I hate asparagus.”
Stats dropped off because of that one, but Chester felt it was necessary to repeat his original message before moving to the next phase.
Day 16: “I tried it … I liked it.”
Day 17: “Asparagus is tangy in a way I’d never experienced.”
Day 18: “Asparagus has an interesting texture.”
Day 19: “I like asparagus … do you like asparagus?”
This resulted in a comment direct from Green Giant who complimented Chester upon his asparagus selection and requested he PM them his address so they could send him off a few gratis cases of their product.
Day 20: “Some asshole went off on me about asparagus, so I banned him. What an asshole!”
Day 21: “What do you mean, you don’t like asparagus? Unfriend!”
Day 22: “All you fuckers who don’t like asparagus can die alongside your useless asparagus avoiding children. Fuck you!”
Green Giant publicly removed their support and just as publicly told Chester to forget about their offer. Furthermore, he must remove all photographs of their product or their lawyers would be in touch.
Day 23: “There wasn’t enough asparagus in the can, so I drank the juice. Never enough.”
Day 24: “I prefer my bowel movements since I’ve begun eating asparagus.”
Day 25: “Asparagus 24/7.” This was accompanied by a photo of the asparagus t-shirt Chester had made, a cheap olive green shirt with Day 1’s photograph printed across its chest. The text “Asparagus 24/7” was featured just above the photo.
Day 26: “The supermarket was out of asparagus today … looks like we’ve got ourselves a movement!”
Day 28: “Have I ever told you what I think about asparagus …”
Day 30: “Asparagus … I could take it or leave it.
Cliff Aliperti is a Long Island-based writer, who has blogged about classic film for several years at his site ImmortalEphemera.com. His fiction has appeared or is forthcoming in Sheepshead Review, Fleas on the Dog, Sledgehammer Lit, CP Quarterly, and on the From Whispers to Roars website. He does not care for asparagus.