It was Sunday morning. The golden boy was wearing matching grass green pants and shirt. I laughed at him:
“You look like a big fresh cucumber in those clothes!”
That did it. For the rest of the day, he was a cucumber. And because I was wearing yellowish t-shirt, I was a banana. But my feet were cucumbers too, because they had green socks on. All Sunday long, the big cucumber was eating the small cucumbers, and the small cucumbers had to fight back.
Night-time. He said “I’m not a cucumber anymore, I’m a banana like you. But I’m not ripe, I’m green, so you can’t eat me.” He lay on his bed, bending slightly at the waist: “Look! look! I’m a bendy green banana!”
Then he caught sight of the night sky.
“I’m the moon! the moon! Look! I’m the same shape!” He stretched out his arms above his head as he lay, his body curved into a crescent moon. He looked at me. “You can be the moon too! The moon is yellow and green!”
So we lay, curved side by side, two crescent moons, one yellow and one green. And Sunday was over.
