Light My Fire

It's summertime. The time we all put on our Ray Ban Wayfarers and head for the surf. Time for cruising up to the drive-in with Beach Boys music blaring from the radio. Time to engage in that great American warm weather tradition—the vegetarian barbecue.

Okay, so maybe barbecuing isn't the thing most people think of in vegetarian summer activities. It does seem odd that health conscious vegetarians would ever want to coat their food with a possibly carcinogenic (and definitely not healthy) layer of soot. Nevertheless, we vegetarians do barbecue, and I think it's probably one of those things we do better than meat eaters. Think about it. Our barbecued meals have to be more creative than meat eaters', and they never suffer from the "Gee, Dad, how come this chicken's black on the outside and raw on the inside?" syndrome.

When I say "we vegetarians" do a better barbecue than meat-eaters I'm of course not referring to myself. Actually I'm lousy at it. I seem to have this one failing that severely hampers my barbecue ability—I can't light a fire.

Oh, I've tried. I've doused the charcoal with enough lighter fluid to have our patio listed by the EPA as a major hydrocarbon polluter. The treetops can singe off in our back yard but the charcoal never even gets warm for me. And I've tried that expensive kind of charcoal you're supposed to be able to light with a match, too. I couldn't light it with a blowtorch. My wife Susan thinks it's because I'm a Pisces. Water signs can never light fires, she says.

We barbecued the other night. I tried an electric fire starter I found at a garage sale. You're supposed to be able to plug the thing in and have a hot bed of coals in ten minutes. After about an hour my grill seemed to be warm and, even though I'd used enough power to cause a brownout in a three-county area, I was proud of myself.

I put the food on and sat back, awaiting those wonderful carcinogenic smells of barbequing food. About two hours later (I think it was almost dark) Susan began inquiring as to when we might eat. I checked the grill.

"Looks like this baby's done," I said, holding up a limp slice of onion. "Maybe we should keep it warm inside while everything else finishes up out here."

She looked sadly down at the grill and tried to feel if there was any warmth at all coming out of coals. Her stomach growled. I knew what she was thinking—maybe we should put it all in the oven.

"Today we barbecue," she said, growing suddenly philosophical. "Tomorrow we microwave."

That reminded me of the sayings of Confuscious, which I try to memorize for appropriate moments like this. "Many man bite," I responded, "but fu-man-chu."

My friends Fred and Blake (neither of whom is vegetarian) have the right idea about barbequing. Fred gave up on charcoal a while back and bought a gas grill.

"But how do you get that good carcinogenic barbecue flavor?" I asked him.

"Ah," he said, his eyes lighting up. "Soaked wood chips tossed in on the burner." The true modern solution to barbequing, I guess.

Blake doesn't use charcoal either. Instead, contrary to all local fire ordinances, he uses fireplace-sized logs in his grill. When he gets it fired up the flames go about twelve feet high and put out enough heat that he can comfortably barbecue nine months a year. How does he cook food on top of such a contraption? He doesn't bother.

Actually, I hope more vegetarians will take up barbequing, and that one day we can dispel its image as an activity dominated by meat-eaters. I have a vision of the suburban backyard of the future. A bunch of kids are playing on the swing set and some women are setting out potato salad and iced tea on the picnic table. Three paunchy, middle-aged men stand with utensils in their hands, staring blankly into a smoking grill.

"How do you fix your tofu, Ralph?" one asks. "Mine always comes out dry."

 

What to Cook

Almost anything barbecues well if you first brush it liberally with olive oil. My favorites:

• leeks
  
• corn
  
• eggplant
  

Also try chunks of potatoes (cook inside until almost done) and onions. When brown, put in a bowl with more olive oil, dill weed, dill seed, pepper, and minced garlic. Serve hot. Wonderful!

For the traditionalist, all kinds of fake hamburgers and hot dogs barbecue well. Even better is tempeh. Slice it thin and use plenty of good barbecue sauce. (Look for molasses instead of sugar on the label.)

Test Your Vegetarian Social Skills

No one will argue that we vegetarians often have a unique perspective on things. In a meat-eating world this can, of course, lead to the occasional social faux pas, possibly resulting in the death or dismemberment of the vegetarian in question.

But never fear, my fellow faux pas-ers. Help is on the way! As a public service of this column, and despite the total lack of cooperation from Miss Manners and Ann Landers, you can now test your knowledge of how the model vegetarian should handle him or herself in a variety of challenging social situations. Just answer the exciting questions below:
 

Situation #1—Dealing with Rednecks. You are at a stoplight in your trusty Yugo when five large men in hunting outfits pull up next to you in a pickup truck. Their tongues loosened by malted beverages, and their intellectual curiosity piqued by the bumper stickers on your car, they begin making such enlightened comments as "What's the matter—afraid to eat a little meat?", "Hey, is that tofu, or is that your face?" and "Your mother wears army boots." Do you:

a. Patiently explain your vegetarian philosophy, and ask that they join you and your mother for dinner (so they can see she really prefers Birkenstocks).

b. Get out of the car and show them your vegetarian biceps. Then quickly paste a bumper sticker on their truck and run like hell.

c. Refuse to engage in any incendiary dialog, at least until they offer you a beer.

You are correct if you answered b. Scientific studies have proven that people quickly adapt their own behavior to the values advocated by their bumper stickers. Had you followed this simple procedure you would have avoided conflict and had them drinking carrot juice before the light changed.
 

Situation #2—Dealing with Neighbors. You do a good deed for Mrs. Frupendorf, the sweet old lady next door. Later that afternoon while you're working in the yard she "thanks" you by bringing over homemade cookies and a big glass of milk. With an innocent smile she says, "I really want to watch you enjoy this!" Do you:

a. Patiently explain that you are a "vegan," and that means the butter and eggs in the cookies, not to mention the milk, aren't on your diet. (After which, she will stare at you blankly and ask why you don't like her cookies.)

b. Excuse yourself to answer the phone, and let her stand in your driveway until she gives up and goes home.

c. Pretend you are enjoying her gift, while secretly putting everything down your shirt.

The correct answer is c. Vegetarians should always be polite, even at the expense of some physical discomfort.
 

Situation #3—Dealing with Relatives. Your rich Uncle Hairy (his mother couldn't spell) is dying. He's never agreed with your diet, and now he promises to leave you $5 million if he can just have the satisfaction of seeing you eat a steak on his deathbed. Otherwise the money goes to the Friends of Pork Chops. Do you:

a. Eat the steak, hope you don't die, and ease your guilt by giving half the money to the vegetarian charity of your choice.

b. Take advantage of Hairy's failing eyesight by hiring a starving actor to eat the steak.

c. Explain the conviction of your beliefs one more time, and hope that Hairy will respect you enough to leave you the money anyway.

Don't even think about answering c! Vegetarians must be opportunistic if we have any hope of surviving in today's world. No, b. is the obvious choice here.
 

Situation #4—Dealing with Authority Figures. You are 17 and madly in love with Susie, the cutest girl at school. She invites you over to meet her father who, it turns out, is the infamous Marine Colonel Charley "Nukemal" Morris. When the good Colonel hears about the diet of the fellow dating his daughter he calls you a communist and threatens you with grievous bodily injury. Do you:

a. Beg his forgiveness and promise to start eating meat.

b. Change the subject by asking how he got the nickname "Nukemal".

c. Challenge him to a fight to the death over his daughter.

Answers b or c could be hazardous to your health. No, the correct answer here is a. We vegetarians are a peace-loving lot, and prefer even a tad of dishonesty to violent confrontation. Anyway, the Colonel is a control freak and will get a charge out of this. Just make sure you leave before dinner.
 

Score Your Vegetarian Social Awareness:

0 correct—Your vegetarian social skills are nothing like mine (thank goodness!) Congratulations!

1-3 correct—You are "average" in every way.

4 correct—You've been reading this column way too long. Get a life.

The Piano Question

Several months ago I started the search to buy a piano. I'm not a very good musician, but I love to play, and I figured what the heck, the time was right to go from my little plastic keyboard to a real instrument.

I looked at a bunch of pianos and quickly found one I really, really liked. That was when the salesman spoiled my excitement by saying, "You know, this is a truly fine instrument. It has leather key bushings!"

Leather???

"Uh oh," I thought, glancing down at my vegetarian-approved canvas shoes and nylon belt, "Here's a problem."

The Moral Dilemma

Like most vegetarians I've made a conscious effort over the years to try to avoid animal suffering in other areas of my lifestyle besides just my diet—and I think I've been moderately successful. I've decried animal testing, generally avoided silk and wool, and haven't bought a pair of leather shoes in a dozen years. But I wasn't prepared to face the fact that an otherwise perfect piano would have offending substances hidden deep in its bowels. I knew I needed help with this one, and I decided to query some of my super-proper, ultra-vegetarian friends. They're smarter than I am. They'd know what to do.

Susan Says No

"It's out of the question."

I looked at Susan incredulously and tried to gather my thoughts. I was afraid she would have this reaction. "But it's only a tiny bit of leather. I could give away the old shoes in the back of my closet and put more leather than that back into circulation. I could make a simultaneous donation to an animal-rights cause and everyone would be better off. And anyway, my organ donor card is signed—I'm planning on passing on a little skin of my own for a good cause!"

"You could do all that stuff without buying this piano," she said. "You're just rationalizing."

"Sure. But everyone rationalizes—it's practically required for human beings. You, for example, take photographs even though you know film has animal ingredients. And you feed meat to your cats."

"That's different," she said quickly. "I don't have a choice there. I'm not going to let my cats starve. If all pianos had leather in them the situation would be different."

"It would?" I thought about that comment for a long time, but couldn't quite see the logic. In any event, this wasn't helping my quest for the piano of my dreams.

Kristin Says No

"How could you, a vegan, even consider such a thing?"

I hadn't expected such a strong response from Kristin. After all, she's a college professor who teaches ethics and animal rights, and by profession she has to consider both sides of every argument. "But you sometimes buy leather shoes yourself!" I countered.

"Yes, but I thought you were more ethically consistent than I am on this issue."

"Me??? How come I have to set the example? I just want a decent piano to play."

"Well, buy a different piano then."

"Would it matter if all pianos had leather in them?" I asked.

"Sure. That would be different."

I still didn't understand this logic, but she was the professor. She must know.

Peter Says Maybe

"It wouldn't bother me. …But then, I'm not you."

Peter was being diplomatic, but his approach was helpful.

"We can't do everything," he went on. "The important thing is that we do what we can."

"But how do we know when we've reached the point where we've done all we can? Animal exploitation is involved in so many products, there's always something else we can eliminate from our lives. And there are always ways we can improve our lifestyles. For example, if we stopped using cars in the summertime we'd save the lives of a gazillion bugs who end up smashed on windshields and radiators—but I've yet to meet an ethical vegetarian who's willing to go that far."

"Exactly," Peter agreed. "You have to lead your life—and nobody expects it to be a life of sacrifice. You can only do what you can do."

The Plot Thickens

After talking with Peter I resumed my piano search, still pondering the moral question, but with a better sense of perspective. It was only when I did more research, though, that I discovered a new and tragic fact—all pianos have leather in them. All pianos??? All acoustic pianos, anyway. Little bits of leather get stuck into the action and the trapwork (that's piano lingo for keys and pedals). Nylon or plastic or rubber would probably work just as well, but leather is traditional, and in the piano business that seems to be pretty important. Now my dilemma had expanded from which piano to buy to whether I should buy a piano at all. Maybe I should even refuse to play anyone else's piano.

Casting the 'Net

It occurred to me that I probably wasn't the first vegetarian piano player to have this problem, and it turns out I'm not. On the Internet I found a vegan discussion group that had dealt with the issue. Unfortunately, they didn't reach any conclusions. There were comments everywhere from "it feels like I'm playing on a corpse" to the sarcastic "do you walk on the ground, or do you hover, to avoid causing needless pain to ants?"

A Resolution?

If you're looking for a resolution to this question, you've come to the wrong column. It seems to me, though, that Peter has a point—in a world that exploits animals at the slightest provocation, we just can't do everything. So maybe the trick is for each of us to find that combination of things (being a vegetarian is a really great start!) that minimizes our guilt, but still lets us lead an enjoyable and meaningful life. Rationalization is nothing to be proud of, but in a society where animal exploitation finds its way into tires and postage stamps, it may be necessary if a sensitive person is to keep his or her sanity.

No, I still haven't bought a piano. But I probably will at some point. When I do I'm sure I'll be making a little "extra" contribution to an animal rights organization for the privilege. Come to think of it, I probably won't be buying much film for a while either.

Understanding (?) “Supplements”

As a vegetarian, people are constantly asking me what kind of "supplements" I take. I grin meekly and try to change the subject. You see, I don't understand nutritional supplements. And since personal involvement with them is almost mandatory for vegetarians and others concerned with their diets, I feel left out. I'm somehow missing the attraction.

Everyone I meet seems to think life itself depends on taking some kind of supplement, or more often many supplements, on a regular basis. Consider my friend Lee, for example. At every meal he sits down with a little plastic bag filled with various kinds of pills. He claims that these little babies, combined with his new diet (lots of protein, no starch, no fruit) have brought him back from the very brink of metabolic disaster. I guess I can't argue the point. He seems pretty much like always to me though, except that he's getting thinner every time I see him. "No fruit?" I say. "Are you sure that's healthy?"

My friend Cheryl is awfully skinny too, although she'll never admit it. She drinks bright-green fruit shakes every morning that have algae something-or-other powder in them. I'm sure they're healthy as all get out, but how much healthier does someone who would never touch a speck of meat, dairy, sugar, caffeine, alcohol, or refined anything really have to be?

I guess that raises one of the questions I have about nutritional supplements. How come the people who eat the healthiest diets and have the healthiest lifestyles are a zillion times more likely to buy these products than the folks who live on pizza and wouldn't know an antioxidant if it crawled up their shins? Why should it be us vegetarians, who already eat a diet that is by its nature steeped in vitamins and minerals, who buy all the supplements? If organic foods are so great, why do we need pills and powders and potions besides? Did the Almighty design humans wrong, or was it his/her design of food that was in error? How did people survive for the first 4 million years before the GNC store opened up in the local mall?

Okay, I know I'm getting carried away here. I know that the soils our food is grown in get worse every year, and our scientific knowledge of what our bodies need gets better.

And I know that I'm jealous too—because every time I have tried to supplement my diet with the latest recommended new and exciting vitamin or mineral I haven't felt a darned bit of difference. Nothing. Nada. Nil. It doesn't matter whether I'm megadosing (is that a word?) on vitamin C, or cramming down organic multi-vitamins the size of avocado pits. I can take a whole bottle of melatonin and still lie awake at night. I take the same echinacea and zinc cold remedies everyone else swears by, and all I manage to do is cut the length of my colds from a week to seven days.

I don't think it's because I'm doing anything wrong. I think it's me personally. My body is somehow stifled from all those years of living on beer nuts and New Coke. My special neuron-fired nutritional supplement receptors are all shot.

The other day someone recommended a new supplement that's all the rage. She claimed it would fix my lousy knees—guaranteed. I went to the natural foods grocery all excited. This time I was going to make it work.

I was only in the store a minute, though, before I realized there are two more good reasons why I don't take regular nutritional supplements. Most of the bottles of this wonder drug I looked at were replete with animal ingredients. Whoa! I thought. Maybe it isn't vegetarians who take most of this stuff after all. Or at least they aren't vegetarian when they finish taking it. The other big shocker was the sticker price. Thirty-six dollars for this tiny bottle of pills? What do they put in here? Is one of those animal ingredients Beluga caviar? Is each pill individually wrapped in mink??

I went over to the other side of the store and spent my $36 on good-old vegetarian food, and to console myself a pint of dairyless ice cream. When my knees get real, real bad I'll probably break down and buy some of that magic potion. Until then, let me pout and wallow in my cynicism. Maybe I'm not ready to understand supplements.

***************************

P.S.: Americans spend $5 billion a year on nutritional supplements. That's cheap compared to the $1 trillion we spend on non-preventive health care every year, but it's still an awful lot of money. (Heck, for that amount of money the government could buy almost a dozen screwdrivers and/or toilet seats. Even better, Hollywood could make Titanic II-The Resurrection.)

As this is being written, the Food and Drug Administration is proposing new rules that would prohibit supplements, which are not required to undergo rigorous scientific study, from claiming they can diagnose, treat, prevent or cure a disease or disease symptom. It may be time for some regulations like this, but let's not single out the nutrition industry. Hopefully the fine folks in Washington can work on the claims of the meat and dairy folks next!

Just for grins, I looked at some of the claims now being made by nutritional supplements in their advertising. It took me less than 5 minutes to find these:

• "strengthen the immune system, enhance memory and fight the effects of aging"

• "keeps your brain in shape"

• "earth's healthiest superfood"

• "fight the effects of pollution, stress, bacteria, and the passage of time"

• "provides you with what you desire most: energy"

• "achieve optimal health"

• "may serve as your body's own 'internal sunglasses'"

Wow! If all of these claims were true, why wouldn't I want to take all of these products, and many more? Wouldn't I be the healthiest guy alive? Wouldn't it be great to never have to worry about losing my sunglasses again? Of course, if I took all these products I know I'd be the busiest guy alive—just from swallowing all the pills. And at $36 a bottle, I'd probably be the poorest as well!

Stalking the Enemy

It's a war out there. In the constant battle between us vegetarians (a/k/a, "the Forces of Good") and the animal agriculture and exploitation industries (a/k/a, "the Forces of Evil"), we have to be ever-vigilant. We have to know our enemy's every move lest we awake one day to find him (her/it) milking the innocent public or selling flank steaks on our very flanks.

As a public service of this column, (and as a way to make up for past damage), I maintain a large and talented staff of professionals who constantly monitor our adversaries and report back in exhaustive detail. …Well, actually, I just manage to check a few press releases every couple of years. But with the thought that some information is better than nothing, and with the added thought that "This page intentionally left blank" makes lousy reading, here are a few of the things the Forces of Evil have been up to lately (oh yeah, I've added a few comments of my own, too):

• The National Cattlemen's Beef Association's Beef Quality Assurance program has some exciting new research underway. In one program at the University of Colorado Health Sciences Center in Denver, one hundred breastfed infants are being studied to document the "advantages" of the early introduction of beef as a weaning food.

Are there no child abuse laws in this country???

• In another study the "cattlemen" are trying to show that some bacteria in ground beef may actually help reduce the incidence of E. coli O157:H7.

Sure, we know that ground "beef" is full of bacteria, but using these little guys as a way to enhance the "quality" of this "food" is something only the meat industry could come up with.

• Fur Age magazine reports that increased international demand for mink pelts is outpacing supply, forcing prices to skyrocket. That means the price for even "entry-level mink" coats has risen to $4,000 to $5,000 at the retail level.

Aren't you glad you have other things to spend your money on?

• The American Egg Board tells us that a blood spot on the yolk of an egg is an indication that the egg is fresh.

Mmm!

• "British Meat," a group from you-know-where organized to promote you-know-what, publishes "healthy eating" information and recipes under the slogan "The Recipe for Love…Meal solutions for every occasion."

If this is love, I'd hate to see what their "hate" recipes are like.

• In its official position on vegetarianism, the National Pork Producers Council describes that industry's killing of animals as "the pork industry's supposed destructive impact on a hog's right to 'hogness'."

Euphemisms get more euphemistic every day!

• And while we're on the subject of "hogness," the Wild Boar Farmers of Alberta want us to know that the use of a marinade or cooking sauce and oven temperatures no greater than 325°F will maintain a moist product and tenderize "The Meat fit for a King."

Does this mean that cooking it any other way may leave you with "the shoe leather fit for a soldier?"

• According to Lab Animal magazine the government breeding program for captive chimpanzees has resulted in significant surplus populations. Since the cost of maintaining a chimp over an average 25- to 34- year life-span is approximately $300,000, industry and government researchers have a real problem, and they are now encouraging animal-protection organizations to take them off the hook by developing sanctuary facilities for chimpanzees.

Sure, but are they willing to send money? Is this one of those "I told you so" situations?

• A survey of American eating habits commissioned by the American Meat Institute finds that more than 99% of Americans eat meat, and "self-reported meat avoiders and vegetarians" consume only about one ounce per day less meat than other folks.

Yes, but we vegetarians always lie to pollsters.

• That same survey, known as EAT II (really!), also finds that while most Americans need to eat more fruits and vegetables, we aren't (surprise, surprise!) eating too much meat.

And just how fat do they want us to be???

• By the time you read this the Veal Committee of the National Cattlemen's Beef Association will have introduced their new "veal" advertising slogan and logo. The tagline is "Veal. Eat Smart. Eat Well."

I guess if you can't manage to say something substantive, you may as well make up something silly. Hey, these guys should write this column!

Selling the Vegetarian Cause—Moonies, A Yawn, and No Respect

Some time ago I was at a party with a bunch of other vegetarians. One of the guests was bemoaning the fact that it was hard to make meat-eaters see the advantages of vegetarianism. "They don't get it," he kept saying. "They just don't get it."

At the time I thought it was an odd thing to say. You either "got it" or you didn't, as if vegetarianism was some kind of counterculture religion, or maybe the latest pop psychology trend? But the more I've thought about it, the more I feel that guy was exactly right. Just like religion, vegetarianism is a hard sell, and those who aren't buying really aren't buying.

Everyone in the world has a cause these days. But not all causes are created equal—at least in the eyes of the public. There are some things that almost everyone supports. Tell someone you're a Big Brother or you work for the Special Olympics, for example, and they'll immediately warm up to you.

On the other side of the spectrum are what I call the "love/hate" groups. They get an immediate reaction—pro or con—from almost everyone. Examples that come to mind are Planned Parenthood, the Neo-Nazis, and those "feed Jane Fonda to the Whales" people at the airport. And remember a few years ago when people were accusing the "Moonies" of brainwashing their kids? Not many people could remain neutral on that issue.

Most causes, though, are less controversial. They have their followers, and in some cases their detractors, but the majority of us don't really think much about them. I think for the most part vegetarianism as a cause is in this largely ignored group. But as the movement gains momentum I get the feeling we may be drifting into that small group of causes that people either love or hate. It seems that lately when I extol the virtues of vegetarianism I have been getting a stronger and stronger reaction.

It happened again the other day. A woman at work asked me why I'm a vegetarian.

"Well...," I said, giving her my most sincere smile. "...Let me just tell you."

I launched into my canned 10 minute speech on the merits of vegetarianism. Unfortunately, I didn't get far—maybe forty-five seconds into it—when I saw her eyes glaze over and she stifled a yawn. Knowing I was going to lose her if I didn't do something, I skipped straight to the end of my speech where I get to the heavy stuff like veal calves and world starvation. The bored look turned to terror, as if I was carrying a bomb or (even worse) asking her for money. She started taking large backward steps, and I suddenly felt about as welcome a Bobby Seale at a DAR convention.

I guess the message is clear. Everybody knows we vegetarians are around, and most of the time they don't really care. To the average meat eater out there our cause is about as important as the Rochester Worm Museum, of the Albanian Home for Aging Soldiers. When we really press the issue, though, it gets personal. At that point the meat eater will either "get it," or treat us like a Moonie hanging around the local playground. It seems that just like the Moonies and those other love/hate groups, we don't yet have the respect of most of those who disagree with us.

The early days of the anti-smoking movement must have been like this. Those people probably encountered lots of hostility from smokers and industry lobbyists. Their persistence paid off, though. As people started to learn and accept the facts, they became much more receptive. Even though there are still plenty of smokers in the world, the anti-smokers are generally acknowledged as having a legitimate cause, and being on the "right" side of the issue. Truth won out in the end.

Hopefully it won't be long before vegetarians get that kind of respect. I know the day will come, because vegetarianism is such a great cause. After all, look at its attributes: it doesn't cost any money to participate, we don't advocate the violent overthrow of the government, and we won't even try to brainwash your kids.

If only people knew.

Still More Pathetic Tales of the Veggie Avenger

"Store Wars"

When we last left the Veggie Avenger, our favorite vegetarian activist was shamelessly accosting meat-eaters in his jobs as an elevator operator and waiter. Unfortunately, those jobs didn't last long. Employers, it seems, were quick to realize that a tactless vegetarian superhero was not their ideal choice in interacting with the public. Nevertheless, the Veggie Avenger remains undaunted. "Hey," he says with a shrug, "why be subtle if you know you're right?" Yes, it's clear that this is a man of principle—at least until his unemployment checks run out.

The Veggie Avenger has been spending his free time (actually, all of his time is free time) pasting nasty stickers on the meat packages at some of Big City's supermarkets. The stickers have sayings on them like: "My name was Elsie, and I had brown eyes," and "Beef: Real Food for Morons." The Veggie Avenger is very proud of himself for being so clever. Suddenly, he senses someone behind him. He turns around to see a butcher the size of Delaware, with arms like fir trees.

Butcher: So, you're the guy who's been treading on our tenderloin!

Veggie Avenger [articulate, as usual]: Who, me??

The butcher grabs our hero's throat with a blood-stained hand and starts pulling him down the aisle. There's the sound of Converse All-Stars squeaking as they drag along the linoleum floor.

Butcher: I've got a meat saw in the back I want you to get acquainted with.

Veggie Avenger [unable to breath]: Arrghh!

Just then a little old lady shopper whacks the butcher in the ribs with her cane.

Little Old Lady: Hey fatso, what are you doing with the geek?

Butcher: I'm going to soak him in meat tenderizer 'til he dissolves.

Veggie Avenger: Arrghh!

By this time several shoppers have gathered around to watch the commotion. The store manager comes over to intervene.

Store Manager: What's going on?

Little Old Lady [pointing to the butcher]: Arnold Schwarzenegger here is trying to deep-six this pathetic hippie.

Butcher: He's the one who's been putting the stickers on our meat. I'm going to lock him up in cold storage for a couple of days.

Veggie Avenger: Arrghh!

Manager: Hmm. Sounds like a violation of Federal product tampering laws to me. I'd better call the FBI.

Veggie Avenger [by this time turning blue, with his eyes bulging out]: Arrghh! Arrghh!

Little Old Lady: Let me take him home with me, boys. I'll straighten him out.

Manager: Lady, if you promise to keep him out of the store, he's yours.

Reluctantly, the butcher takes his hand off the Veggie Avenger's throat. Our hero, breathing again, knows he's won another battle. Air returns to his lungs. A confident look returns to his face, and he smirks at the butcher and store manager. He's just about to thank the little old lady when he feels her iron grip on his arm and the rap of her cane on his shins.

Little Old Lady: Now come along with me, sonny. I'm going to fix you a nice bowl of chicken soup.

Veggie Avenger: Arrghh!!!