My One and Only

This is a work of fiction. No real people, places or events were used. Copyright ã 2011 Plot Roach.

My One and Only

By Plot Roach

“Are you a Salt or a Pepper?” asked a muffled voice from deeper within the box.

The little penguin turned around and whispered: “Salt.” He shifted among the styrofoam packaging to get a better look at the other occupants of the box. There was a steel colored nutcracker with assorted picks, rubber banded together. An egg timer in the shape of a chicken, asleep until it will be twisted into awareness again by the Big Hands. A few odds and ends from the kitchen, all of which either could not talk or chose not to. And then he saw it, the one who asked. A black cat, one ear nearly chipped off and its skin crackled from age. “I’m a Pepper, myself.” it answered. No, a she, he corrects himself. He knew from experience that all Salt are male, with Pepper being female.

“Do you know what is happening to us?” he asks the Pepper cat.

“The old Big Hands left and a younger Big Hands is packing everything away. I fear that we will be of little use now, or else thrown away entirely.” the Pepper cat explained.

The Penguin nodded, he saw something like this coming. After the death of his one and only. “The older Big Hands had become ill. We had been with her a long time, and I knew it was something serious when she couldn’t reach for us anymore.”

“We?”

“My one and only.” The penguin said, looking down at his own chipped foot.

“And what happened to her?”

The memories swelled within him, and his cork loosens a bit, letting some of the salt shift from his body. He pulled himself together and faced the chipped Pepper cat. “The Big Hands was cooking one day, but she was awfully slow and clumsy. Her fingers hurt just to hold us. One day she bumped the rack where I and my Pepper were waiting. And Pepper fell to the floor, dashed to pieces before my eyes.”

“Oh, how horrible.” the Pepper cat hissed.

“And where is your one and only?” the penguin asked.

“I’m afraid that I never knew him.” She explained. “We came direct from the manufacturing plant, ensconced in cardboard and paper binding. Somewhere along the way from the plant to the first shop where we were to be sold, he died in the rough journey. His body fell apart in the shop keeper’s hands, and though he tried everything to save my Salt, it was not enough. So I was abandoned on a Sale shelf until other Big Hands found me.”

“Was it our Big Hands?”

“I came here after a while.” She explained. “I was kept in a case for a while, with other glass animals and things the Big Hands keep as treasures. Then, when that Big Hands left, I was sold at a garage sale to a Little Hands. She like to play with me and I had such a good time with the other toys . That is how I chipped my ear. But I didn’t mind it then, because I was loved. But then she became a Big hands and had no time for me or the dolls anymore. So then I was tossed out with the rest of the rubbish until another Big hands pulled me out, put me in a box and sent me on my way. I’ve been in and out of boxes almost entirely since then. It’s now your turn as well.”

“It’s fine by me.” the penguin said. “I’m just not the same without her.”

“Your one and only?”

“My Pepper.”

The day came when all the boxes were taken from the house and shipped away to a dark and lonely place. The contents of each box were like islands onto themselves, forever cut off from the rest by the boundaries of cardboard walls. Eventually the cat fell into a silent state and the penguin felt relief, for now he could be alone with the thoughts of the past. He remembered his one and only, his Pepper. He remembered how they had each been sculpted by the same hands, how they had gone into the kiln together. How they emerged, naked and burning with passion for one another. Then dressed carefully by thick paints on soft brushes. Then how they lay side by side in foam padding and ensconced in a box to travel to their new home.

That was when they met her for the first time, their Big Hands. She was young and gentle then, and caressed their slick bodies often as she cooked. She often talked to them as she went about her duties in the kitchen, and they came to be a part of her life as she was theirs.

Then she grew old, as all Big Hands do. Arthritis made it harder for her to do even the simplest of tasks. Her failing health made it so that she used Salt less often. But she always kept Pepper at hand. His one and only beamed from the use and would tell him of how their Big Hands was doing. They both worried about her and wondered what would happen if she ever left. Then the fateful day came when their Big Hands knocked Pepper off the shelf by accident. Salt’s silent cry at her sudden death nearly shattered him as well. The Big Hands let out a cry to match his own inner turmoil. She gathered the pieces, but it was no use. Pepper could never be put back together again. The pieces were simply too small for her Big Hands to manipulate. Then the Big Hands clutched her chest, she struggled to the phone and then there was silence. Men in uniforms took her away, their feet crunching on the ceramic corpse of his one and only.

Then there was movement in the dark. Voices brought him back to consciousness, but it was not the Pepper cat. The box was opened and a light shone in. Another set of Big Hands pulled him from his place of slumber. They turned him over, washing away the grime and the grease of many years of use. A dab of black nail polish coated the crack along his tail and another dab of orange coated his chipped foot. He was set aside to dry before being refilled with salt. But this was a strange pink substance, and thinner than he was used to. At last he made his way upon the kitchen shelf, surrounded by others of his own kind. “What are you?” they asked.

“I am a Salt.”

“We were all a Salt or a Pepper once, but now we are something more. So look within yourself, what are you ?”

He loosened his stopper to pull out a few grains of the pink sand within him.

“He’s still a Salt.” Explained a polar bear that was nearest to him. “But you are Himalayan now.”

“What?”

“Our Big Hands is a gourmet chef, and like to use many different things. You are now filled with Himalayan sea salt. Just as I am filled with extra fine powdered sugar.”

“And I am paprika” said a red hound dog.

“But none of you have your others.” the penguin gasped. “You are each missing your one and only. Why would the Big Hands keep you around?”

“Because we are each separate, we are each unique and needed, you will learn this in time. So what is your story stranger?”

“It is a long one, I’m afraid.”

“I have all the thyme in the world” laughed a turtle.

And then he saw her, or thought that it was her. For in the corner stood the black Pepper cat. “Is that you?” he asked.

“Indeed, your box mate, healed and whole once again.”

“I almost didn’t recognize you with your ear back.”

“This Big Hands is very talented and patient -and very young. I think we will have many years to serve her. And I am Cocoa now. ”

The penguin looked down, studying the foot that was no longer chipped and naked. He hoped that the cat was right. But before he knew it, the Big Hands was in the kitchen, speaking to each ceramic creature as she used its contents. She ran her fingers over the slick back of the Salt Penguin as she added a few shakes of sea salt to her latest concoction. “Glad to have you, Mr. Penguin.” she said, setting him back down on the shelf with the other animals. And though he missed his one and only, he found himself a new home among those that survived.