It's what I'll assume was a weekday afternoon, and I'm working in my department. Things are slow, so we all have some downtime to clean the place up while the few customers help themselves. I'm folding a shirt on a table as I see K.D. round the bend and head down my aisle. He is holding a small plastic bag with the opening folded over like a farmer's seed-sewing sack (before we had tractors and shit). As he comes closer, I grow curious as to what is in the bag. Maybe it's full of gumballs. Maybe it's a sack of shoelaces, since he works in the footwear department. Considering where I work, he might have an ounce of pot in there for all I know. (Remember, at this point I still think he's normal.)
He approaches, and with an outstretched hand, offers the bag. It's full of... flowers; tiny yellow flowers. I look in the bag, and I look up at him, clearly perplexed. "Try one," he suggests. I gingerly dip my fingers into the bag, selecting the most unassuming flower and, hesitantly, bring it towards my mouth, staring into his eyes all the while, looking for a trace of deception. When none is to be found (damn, he's good!), I pop it in and bite down.
His eyebrows rise. "What do you taste?" he inquires.
As bits of flower brush over my taste buds, I search myself to figure out what that is I taste. It's quite pronounced and a touch on the bitter side. Garlic? No. What is it...
"Broccoli?" I guess.
K.D. cracks a smile. "Yes, broccoli. These are broccoli flowers." He then proceeds to tell me the story of how he stumbled upon this wonder of nature. He was off on an adventure, and while he was gone, his garden went wild. When he returned to find it, he was not pleased, and began to tend it. As he was trying to figure out what to do with his overgrown broccoli plant, an old Japanese man walking down the sidewalk approached. (Though I don't know anything about this man, I picture him as Pai Mei from Kill Bill.) "Ah! I see you grow broccoli the Japanese way!" the old kung-fu master exclaims with delight. He then continues on his way, leaving K.D. awestruck and probably a little bit proud of himself.
"I always grow it this way, now," K.D. tells me, "Take some more." I oblige, grabbing another small handful and daintily tossing them into my mouth.
Did you catch what happened? K.D. made broccoli the right way for all his life previous to this experience. He made it the Christian way. Why does he now harvest the flowers rather than the crowns? Because a Japanese man told him too.
"I always grow it this way, now," K.D. tells me, "Take some more." I oblige, grabbing another small handful and daintily tossing them into my mouth.
Did you catch what happened? K.D. made broccoli the right way for all his life previous to this experience. He made it the Christian way. Why does he now harvest the flowers rather than the crowns? Because a Japanese man told him too.
