Onions

     Onions have layers.  Therefor they are great for metaphors about people, love, and ogres.  They also mostly taste good.  They enhance food while that food is being eaten.  Hours later however, you wonder "Oh, god, why did I eat those onions?"
     I recently made a giant batch of my mother's recipe of tuna noodle salad.  It calls for green onions.  I chopped them up and threw them in.  The tuna noodle salad is great.  That is until I wake up the next morning trying to decipher what animal took a shit in my mouth.  The aftertaste, for crissakes.  Next time, fewer onions.
     Cutting onions doesn't make me cry.  Maybe I'm just really good at it, and always cut against the grain or however is the proper way to do it to prevent tears.  Or, as others have hypothesized, maybe I have no soul.  In college, I worked at a sandwich shop where we needed to cut up the onions as part of the prep.   My coworkers always left this job for me.  We had to shop a lot of onions; they hated doing it and I didn't mind.  I would pull out the giant onion slicer and have at it, chopping about twenty pounds of onions at a time.  Often, because it would be slow so I would be alone, I would chop the onions between customers.  A customer would walk in and upon the chime of the door, I would walk to the front counter to serve them.  Then they would start crying.
      I'm not kidding, within 10 seconds of entering the shop they would tear up and start sniffling.  They would look around like a lost child and then see me standing there, patiently waiting to help them.  "What's going on?" they would ask.  "Are you chopping onions?"  I would confirm I was- a whole giant pile of them.  "Why aren't you crying?  This is killing me?"  Eh, it just doesn't bother me.  I don't know why.  "You have no soul.  This is awful.  You must be the devil."
     "So, white or wheat bread?"
     Another odd tidbit about onions is that my grandfather used to love them and he ate them like apples.  I do not recommend this.  It's gross and will make you smell bad, apparently until the day you die.  He practically didn't have to be embalmed. 
     Onions are complicated.  They're a delicious-when-enjoyed-sparingly vegetable, a beautiful metaphor, and also, America's Finest News Source.