Harvey Harrison's War For More

            by Rachel Hamburg

 

“Happy birthday dear Harvey, happy birthday to you!”  Harvey Harrison stared glumly at his green birthday cake as his mom and dad finished a hoarse rendition of “Happy Birthday.”

            “Broccoli cake again,” Harvey murmured. 

           

    Today marked the fifth time in seven years that Harvey’s parents had bought him a cake made of broccoli, despite his begging and pleading for one of the chocolate variety.  The last time he had had one of those was at his friend Fred Pepper’s birthday party five years ago, the day before Mr. Bruce L. Sprouts had become mayor.  Harvey could picture the big, brown cake when he closed his eyes and he could hear the “mmm” sounds that all the kids made as they licked every last crumb off of their plates and fingers.  Broccoli cake never made Harvey “mmm.”  Instead, every year, it just made him sadder and sadder about his life in Broccoliville. 

Another year without change, thought Harvey sadly to himself.  

            As he opened his pile of presents, Harvey was not surprised to find that once again this year he received a new pair of broccoli boots and a ‘grow your own’ broccoli starter kit.  At least this year the boots have extra strong broccoli stem laces, Harvey thought. 

           

While lying in bed that night under his scratchy broccoli bed sheets, Harvey thought about his life in Broccoliville.  Ever since Mr. Bruce L. Sprouts had become mayor when Harvey was very little, everyone who lived in Broccoliville had been required to eat broccoli and nothing else.  They even had to drink broccoli juice!  And not only that, Mayor Sprouts required everything in the town to be made from broccoli, from clothing to electronics to stuffed animals to cookies!

            Harvey couldn’t stand living in a world of broccoli all day and night.  It wasn’t that he didn’t like the bushy vegetable, but rather that he was bored of it.  Harvey even had dreams at night of giant broccoli stalks chasing him and forcing themselves down his throat.     

            And what Harvey found especially weird, was that no one else in Broccoliville ever seemed to complain, or even notice the complete lack of anything but broccoli.  It was like they didn’t know that any other foods existed.  When Harvey would talk about chocolate cake or ice cream cones four scoops tall, his friends and family would look at him like he was crazy.  Harvey couldn’t understand how everyone else had forgotten all the foods they used to eat before Mayor Sprout took them away.

            On this very night of his seventh birthday, Harvey decided that he couldn’t take Mayor Sprout’s broccoli rules anymore.  He was going to find something else to chew on, no matter what it took, and bring it back to town for everyone to see and smell and taste.  Then they will remember all the foods they used to love, Harvey thought.

And with a plan for the next day in mind, Harvey drifted off to sleep.

           

    Early the next morning, Harvey crept out of his green bed and slipped on an old broccoli stem t-shirt and pair of shorts.  He tiptoed past his parent’s room, where he spied his dad snoring away into the fluff of his broccoli-stuffed pillow.   Harvey’s stomach grumbled, but the thought of yet another bowl of broccoli-flavored cereal drove him right past the kitchen and out the front door.  Once outside, Harvey headed south toward the nearest exit from the town of Broccoliville.  Harvey wasn’t sure where exactly he was going, but he realized that what he wanted could not be found within the walls of his hometown. 

            Harvey knew that he had to be careful.  If anyone in town saw him out alone, they would certainly be suspicious and they might call Harvey’s mom and dad.  And if Harvey’s parents caught him before he was able to find any new food, not only would he be in mega amounts of trouble, but he’d also have to keep eating broccoli for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. 

            As he walked down Stalk Street, Harvey saw his aunt, Ima Stringbean, watering the broccoli shrubs in her garden.  Auntie Stringbean had sculpted the broccoli plants lining her patio into different animal shapes; a kangaroo, a giraffe, and an elephant all faced Harvey.

            Harvey tried to scoot by without Auntie Stringbean seeing him, as he wanted to avoid one of the slobbery wet kisses she always planted on his cheek.  Not to mention, today Harvey was on a mission, and he did not have time for distractions. 

Harvey waited behind a nearby broccoli tree until Auntie Stringbean was very involved with her penguin-shaped shrub before dashing past her house and behind another stalk of broccoli.  When he was sure that Auntie Stringbean had not so much as looked up from her broccoli shears, Harvey continued on his way.

After successfully dodging Sergeant Sauerkraut, who was patrolling the sidewalk stalks on Bush Avenue, and Meg Plant, the town’s head gardener, Harvey came to the large gate to the world outside of Broccoliville.  The gate was bigger and bushier than he remembered, and for a second, Harvey considered turning back.  But when the image of a three layer chocolate cake with extra frosting crossed his mind, Harvey knew he was heading in the right direction.   He gritted his teeth, retied his shoelaces, and sprinted out of Broccoliville. 

Harvey was looking forward to finding a whole new world outside of Broccoliville, one filled with yummy treats and less broccoli, and so he was disappointed to find that outside of the walls of Broccoliville, there was just a whole lot more broccoli.  For as far as he could see, there were rows and rows of broccoli shrubs.

Harvey walked a little ways through the broccoli patch, hoping that he would be able to find something other than broccoli.  It had been so long since Harvey had seen anything other than broccoli that he didn’t know what was edible and what was not, so he decided that he would just have to try and eat anything that wasn’t broccoli.  Suddenly he found himself sprawled face down in a big broccoli bush.  Harvey looked back to see what he had tripped on.  It was the color of old broccoli and smelled like it too, but broccoli it wasn’t, Harvey was sure of that.  Harvey’s stomach grumbled with hunger.  He knew that what he had stumbled upon wasn’t chocolate, but whatever it was, Harvey figured had to taste better than that shrubby green vegetable. 

Without further ado, Harvey took a big bite of it.  As he chewed, Harvey tasted the gooey rubber and tough leather of an old, dirty boot.   Harvey’s face turned the color of broccoli and he felt sick to his stomach.  “Yuck!” exclaimed Harvey, as he spit the bite out.  “Maybe there are some things worse than broccoli.”  Disappointed, he dropped the old boot and continued on his way.

Next, Harvey came upon an empty toothpaste tube, then a pencil and eraser, then an old tennis ball.  Each one he took an excited bite out of, and each one tasted worse than the last.

Harvey was beginning to think that maybe Mayor Sprout was right.  That maybe there really wasn’t anything better outside of Broccoliville.  Harvey’s walk became droopy and he fought back tears.  I’ll just go back to Broccoliville and eat broccoli, broccoli, and broccoli for the rest of my life. How boring, he thought. 

And that is when Harvey spotted what looked like a little hut in the distance.  He ran toward it, his feet moving as fast as hummingbird wings, his heart thudding with excitement. 

At last, Harvey came to the square structure.  Harvey looked up and a faded banner read, “Fresh picked strawberries: sweet and delicious.”

“Mmm,” said Harvey aloud as he remembered the juicy red berries his mom used to bring home from the market.

Harvey peered inside the shack and what he saw caused him to jump so high with joy that he hit his head on the top of the building.  In the inside corner, Harvey spotted a small plant decorated with several clusters of perfectly ripe strawberries.  Harvey jumped into the shack, picked up the berries, and tossed one into his mouth. 

“Yummy yum yum in my tum!” chanted Harvey.  The smile on his face stretched from ear to ear as he enjoyed berry after berry.  But Harvey was also careful to save a few to share with the people of Broccoliville.  After they try these, Harvey thought, there is no way they will be able to go back to eating only broccoli!

And with that thought and a bulging bunch of strawberries in his pocket, Harvey sprinted back to town. 

 

Harvey arrived huffing and puffing to find that the townspeople were just starting to trickle out of their houses for the day.  This time around, Harvey made no attempts to avoid his fellow Broccolivillians.  Instead, Harvey wanted to talk to everyone he saw.

“Mrs. Fennel, I have something for you” Harvey said as he trotted toward his rather green neighbor.   Mrs. Fennel raised her eyebrows skeptically. 

“This isn’t another one of your little tricks, is it?  I still haven’t gotten the gum out of my hair from your last one.” 

“No, no.  Trust me, this is waaaaaaaay better!  Here, try this!”  Harvey handed Mrs. Fennel a strawberry.

“What on earth is…” Harvey couldn’t believe that Mrs. Fennel had forgotten what strawberries were, but he hoped she would remember when she tasted one.

“Just taste it, Mrs. Fennel.  Come on, please!” Harvey begged.

“Oh alright,” Mrs. Fennel said.  And she plopped the red treat into her mouth.

Harvey could see the expression on Mrs. Fennel’s face change from confused to delighted as the flavor of the strawberry overcame her. 

“Mmm!” she said.  “Is this the new crop of broccoli that Ms. Plant has been growing?”

“No, it’s not broccoli, Mrs. Fennel, it’s a strawberry!  A strawberry!  Remember?”  Harvey said.

About a minute passed while Mrs. Fennel stood scratching her head, and Harvey stood tapping his foot, waiting, hoping that Mrs. Fennel would be able to remember the fruit he had just given her a taste of.

Suddenly a smile appeared on Mrs. Fennel’s face and she said, “I remember now, strawberries, of course!” 

Harvey couldn’t help but smile too; his plan was working.

Just then, Dr. Tom A. Toes came skipping by with his dog, Cucumber. 

“Mr. Toes!” Mrs. Fennel called, “come try this!”  She held out a strawberry for him to see. 

“Good morning there, Mrs. Fennel.  Hello there, Harvey.  What do you have here?”

“Just taste this!” said Mrs. Fennel.  And he did.

A large crowd of Broccolivillians began to congregate around Harvey and his strawberries.  A great big “Mmm” sound hung over the town square as person after person sunk their teeth into one of Harvey’s berries. 

Soon, people were calling out the names of other foods they remembered eating before Mayor Sprout came into power.

“Potato chips!”

“Apples!”

“Chocolate milk!”

The crowd cheered with the memory of each delicious treat. 

Harvey stood in the middle of the crowd knowing that his plan had worked.  

From his office, Mayor Sprout heard the commotion in the town square and quickly came running.  When he got close enough to hear what the people were yelling about, he became very scared and disgusted.  How did they remember yucky foods like ‘chocolate chip cookies’ and ‘blueberry muffins’?  Mayor Sprout wondered.  He had taken all of those things away, and everyone had forgotten them.

“What in the broccoli stem is going on here?” Mayor Sprout shouted.  The Broccolivillians fell silent and turned towards Mayor Sprout.  Everyone looked nervously at Harvey, then Mayor Sprout.  Then Harvey again.  Then Mayor Sprout.

Harvey was a little nervous, but he knew that he had the love and support of his townspeople behind him, and so he decided to speak with Mayor Sprout.

“Mr. Mayor, we’re tired of broccoli everything,” said Harvey.

Mayor Sprout looked very surprised.  “Tired of broccoli?  Well that’s impossible!  How could anyone ever get tired of such a delicious food?  It’s all I eat!” he said.

“It’s all any of us eat, Mayor Sprout,” Harvey replied.  “And that’s great that you love broccoli so much, and you can eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner if you want to, but it’s not fair to make all of us eat it all of the time just because you love it so much.”

The townspeople all nodded in agreement. 

But Mayor Sprout was getting angrier and angrier by the second.  First, his ears started turning bright green, and then his entire face.  Mayor Sprout, shaking his fist in the air, yelled,  “For as long as I am mayor of this town, we will eat nothing but broccoli.  That’s it, and that’s final.”

As Mayor Sprout screamed, pieces of broccoli began to spill out of his ears.  And then his nose.  And his face continued to turn greener and greener.   Then his limbs began to turn hard and green too, like broccoli stems, and his hair puffed up and grew like the top of a piece of broccoli.   

“What’s happening?!” Mayor Sprout shouted.  “I can’t move!”  He tried to say more, but broccoli began pouring out of his mouth.

A few moments later, Mayor Sprout has turned completely into a stalk of broccoli.  All that remained of the old Mayor Sprout were his eyes.

The townspeople stood in shock and no one said a word.  Finally, Harvey spoke.  “If you ask me, he was asking for it.  He wasn’t respecting our feelings or listening to us, and that was wrong.”

“Well what do we do now, then, Harvey?” asked Mrs. Stringbean.

“Now?” asked Harvey, smiling.  “Now we feast!”

 

The Broccolivillians began to prepare right away for the feast.  Everyone made their favorite dish from the past.  Mr. Toes made waffles with whipped cream and chocolate chips.  Mrs. Fennel made a pepperoni pizza.  Ms. Plant made lasagna with extra cheese.

The next evening, everyone brought his or her favorite foods to a celebration in the town square where Harvey was the guest of honor.  Foods from all over the world were spread out on a long table.  Everyone in Broccoliville came; even Mayor Sprout who was still stuck as a broccoli stem where he had been fussing the day before.

 

What did Harvey enjoy eating most?  A big piece of the most scrumptious chocolate cake.  “Mmm!” he said between each and every bite.  When he had licked his plate clean, Harvey smiled at his proud mom and dad and said, “Now I can’t wait until my birthday next year.”