Where Is My Tomato?
66
Seriously; where is it?
This is not the stuff of tragedy but rather mystery. Yesterday I had four tomatoes in my handbag, a gift from friends who grow their own. Medium sized. Red and just right. I got home, took the four tomatoes out of my handbag and set them on the counter, safely stacked: three in a triangle, the fourth on top. Snug.
I became distracted by other circumstances; the tub overflowed, and flooded out my little camper. I had forgotten that I was soaking a dress in the tub, and had left the cold water on. I say "cold," but of course the water is quite warm here in South Carolina in the summer time. I started to throw towels down, pulled the plug, and managed to stop the water from running down into the heating vents first, before mopping up.
This took time. Then I realized that the water had got under the sides of the storage space under the bed, so I opened that up and rescued my printer (water dripping out from its innards), swore in English, French, and Japanese, and mopped up some more. By now all the bath towels, the dog's bath towels, and the kitchen towels were sopping wet.
I threw them all into the laundry hamper and dragged (there was no way I could have picked up the weight even if my right arm wasn't still recovering from a bad break) it across the camper, down the steps, and around to the house, where I threw them into the washer. I set the dials and added the soap, and walked back around to the camper. On the way, I noticed that the camper is not, after all, on an even keel as I had supposed, as water was running out of one corner and none of the others.
I opened the outside storage at that corner, and rearranged the contents, disposing of a piece of cardboard that was now sodden, too, and making sure the water could drain effectively. Then I shut that up and climbed back into the camper.
And there it was: gone.
I finished mopping up inside, and then realized it was time for a snack. I had been looking forward to a tomato sandwich, with the tomato sliced and soaked in dark balsamic vinegar and sprinkled with basil and freshly ground black pepper. I remembered with disgust that I can't afford black peppercorns anymore, and that I had used the last of the last of the crumbs in the pepper mill a few days earlier. Drat. Oh well, at least I would have the rest.
This was when I noticed that one of the tomatoes was missing.
Not the top one, which had now fallen to rest beside the other two. No, it was the front tomato of the three that had been placed in the triangle to hold the top one up. It wasn't there. I looked around. Had I taken it somewhere else, and set it down on another surface? There is limited space in a camper, and it didn't take long to look on every conceivable surface that might hold a tomato. Nope.
Had I put it in the fridge, perhaps, to chill? Nope. Had it rolled on the floor? Nope. Had the cat managed to pull it out from under the other, and batted it under the table? Nope. Had I eaten it already? Nope.
I looked in cupboards, the freezer, the bathroom, the laundry -- everywhere. No tomato.
I went back to the counter where the other three were still snugly safe. I call it a counter, but it is actually the space for a TV set -- it's sandwiched in between two cupboards, one above and one below it, and it is enclosed. There was nowhere for the tomato to have rolled.
Occam's Razor dictates that there is no need to invent a multiplicity of possible answers to any question. It is unlikely that the tomato was abducted by aliens, so I refrained from considering that theory. There were few possibilities left. No one could have walked through my yard while I was in the house throwing the towels into the washer without my seeing him. Or her. And anyway, the tomatoes were sitting beside a dish that contained my watch, some loose change, and several bills of a higher denomination than I usually carry around. Were an invisible intruder to take the tomato, why not take the money and watch as well?
Cousin Frank
I was suddenly reminded of my cousin, Frank (not his real name), a very methodical and diligent man who worked for a spell as an officer in the London Metropolitan Police, and whose presence there probably gave a whole new layer of meaning to the epithet "P.C. Plod." I suspect he liked the paperwork more than the actual policing bit. Anyway, he now teaches ______ in ________, so I'm hoping he has lots of papers to grade.
When he was younger, he went on a camping trip with some friends on an island off the coast of Ireland. One evening, as they were sitting around the campfire swapping Dewey Decimal numbers or whatever it is that geek teenagers swapped around campfires before there were computers, Frank reached down to pick up his coffee cup. It was not there.
He searched around for it, with the aid of a flashlight. No sign of the cup. Mystery.
"The curious thing about it was," he continued, as we tried to stop our eyes from glazing over at the sheer boredom of the interminably detailed account, "the next morning when I got up, there it was -- sitting right where I had set it the night before."
"Goodness," said my mother, a kind soul, "and did no one have any theory to put forward regarding what may have produced the disappearance of the cup?"
"None at all," said my cousin (whose name is not Frank).
"And was the coffee still hot?" asked my brother, whose name is not Dirk, but who couldn't resist the question. I choked on my McVitie's Chocolate Digestive biscuit.
"And did one of your friends not admit to taking it?" asked my father, finally incapable of letting the story be told as this year's latest Unsolved Mystery.
"No, they said they hadn't," said Frank, who seemed diligently impervious to the Absolute Bleedin' Obvious.
I'm thinking the position with the police was probably not really a good career fit for Frank.
I felt a right Frank.
Trouble was, I couldn't blame the disappearance of my tomato on anyone else. The cat does not bother with that shelf, and the dogs don't even sniff near it on any regular basis. But as they were the only suspects in the crime, they had to be interrogated.
I lined them up in a row and considered their demeanor. Did any of them look guilty? Have bits of tomato skin hanging out of their mouths? Nope. I got one of the other three tomatoes and held it under their noses. Vague sniffing. No interest at all. Lily will eat most things proffered to her, but a whole tomato did not seem to hold any appeal. The cat just looked at me, her eyebrows raised. Figuratively.
There was only one logical answer left, as far as I could make out. The tomato had not ceased to exist, it was merely somewhere else at the moment, and would turn up -- wherever I had inadvertently left it. I looked around again, just in case. Looked in my handbag, in case it had jumped back in.
Nope.
The end
If you're expecting a sudden dramatic or comic resolution to this story, I'm afraid there isn't one. It might not be the best way to end such a tale, but the truth is all I have. I sure don't have the tomato.
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Comments
Nope.
Perhaps it was Harvey.
Invisible fictional white rabbits don't eat tomatoes.
Have you asked him?
People used to come in a steal tomatoes from my yard in Iowa City all the time. The funniest time is when we were given a single tomato plant with 2 or 3 green tomatoes on it. I put it outside to 'summer' it, and the next morning, all 3 were gone. I mean, why? But home grown tomatoes are so much better than tbe store bought, non-vine ripened variety. ?
The other answer is: Tomato gremlins.
Oh, now I'd feel crazy. This has happened to me countless times. Not with tomatoes but other things. Usually keys and cell phones. When I'd find mine, PM would lose his. We could never have both for months. Hmmm. Interesting phenomena.
@ Toad: I don't think you're taking this whole thing entirely seriously enough. A Tomato Is Missing.
I'm calling attention to all possible suspects.
Are Tomato Gremlins invisible? I'll hunt the little suckers down 'n shake 'em till they rattle
Thing is, Frieda, I do this stuff all the time too; but I was so careful setting them on the counter, that it has me totally exasperated.
Is Harvey a tomato Gremlin, I wonder?
Teresa, I do decrlare that it was Riga Mortiss the rat, who lives in your storage locker. When you flooded out his home, he managed to escape and grabbed a tomato to eat on his way to a drier home. Either that, or had had been knocking back that Irish whiskey at the friend, thought you'd put in 4 tomatoes but it was only 3, as the Irish whiskey was making you see double.
When your attention was drawn to the water, it rolled off the bar and it under something, I know how hot SC is, you will smell it soon. When you do see if my spongebob socks are with it, I only have one and washed two.
dori
Cindy -- a few years ago the drink would have indeed been the answer; alas, no longer. I'm sober, and the cat wouldn't let a rodent live in any storage space.
I have crawled around looking under everything in this durn place, and the f(*&^%ing thing F%&*^$ing ain't there.
There's an old twilight zone episode that answers your question. It is for sale in a small off the beaten track shop in THE TWILIGHT ZONE!
Well, maybe there were worms inside the tomato and when you were cleaning up the flood they ate it all
Have there been any reports of tomato abductions in your area? I think the space aliens are getting bored with the crop circle thing-- especially the travelers that look like giant intergalactic tomato hornworms.
Check your laundry. Maybe when you were scooping up the wet towels and dragging them to the washer, it fell in?
I wouldn't let the dogs off too easy. I once had one that would eat the first ripe tomato off the plant a day before we planned to pick it. The interrogation my have frightend them if they feared waterboarding.
Can you teach us how to curse in Japanese?
how do you know I am wrong?
I'm real sure my retired husband snuck up there on his morning walk and ate it because he's about ready to eat us out of house and home. After your tomato he ate a bowl of black beans, a 1/2 gallon of chocolate almond ice cream, a sandwich, 2 plates of sphagetti, drank a liter of juice, and now he's in the kitchen again. The missing tomato just was his snack.
Jacob -- the dogs would have had to have been outside, to have been able to dig. They were in.
Rochelle, I checked the laundry. And Lily has since been tempted with a tomato slice, which she similarly ignored.
I guess either Treasured or Jerilee have the solution. It's either in the Twilight Zone, or was an in-between snack. Oh well. . . .
A great mystery. Maybe it somehow got knocked into a trash can or something during your flurry of activity. Dealing with water problems is one of the more miserable life experiences.
I 'd agree with Frieda sometimes things disappear and reappear as if by magick*. A missing homegrown tomato that is a tasty disappearance. How will I sleep?
I have been told that little imps from the other side like to play tricks on us. They move things so we can't find them and then when we're not paying attention- they put them back.
There -problem solved.
OK! I'm not paying attention! Thanks, guys -- I'm sure it will rematerialize any minute!
Oooohhhh! I LOVE a good mystery! And it sounds like you are living a day in my life. We must find it, Teresa. It is of utmost importance. If my son were anywhere within a 30 mile radius, I'd rat him out. He steals more tomatoes off my mom's vines and has been known to sneak them off the cutting board right under her nose without her ever even realizing. But alas, he was safe in Oklahoma riding his Spiderman bike and jumping on the trampoline.
Now to the campfire. I'm quite sure the Dewey Decimal system is what they were discussing. Um hmm.. Quite positive, actually.
Thanks for the entertainment. I always enjoy a very good chuckle!
Don't you just hate it when that happens?
You tell a great anecdote, quite the gifted writer. :)
I admit the title caught my eye originally because I have been wondering where MY tomatoes are. I have a vegetable garden in this year, a first for me. All the plants are growing and look great except... I have no harvest. Nothing is producing, I mean nothing. Where is my tomato?? Possibly I'm not only not such a great gardener, I'm also a bit impatient. :p
Anyway, a wonderful anecdote on your part, I enjoyed the read and the idea of the mystery of it, hehe.
Spontaneous Tomato Combustion, happens all the time.
and the socks as well...............
same thing happens to my mj buds.
Ooooo I love a good 'mater mystery!
You'll have to let us know how it turns out!
I like ketchup.
I read all the way through, thinking,"Wow...she can even make a missing tomato interesting!" Such talent! Thanks! :)
Teresa,
Don't worry, it's just your brain shutting down after a lifetime of hard work
The first symptom is putting things into strange places (like tomatoes into handbags)
The second symptom is losing the ability to count.
The third is losing control of your waterworks.
(If you feel the urge to start telling all your friends on social networks about strange, imagined events, the diagnosis will be confirmed).
cheers, Eric G.
This mystery reminds me a bit of Dori from Finding Nemo and a bit of the Twilight Zone - now choose your own adventure! :D
Omg i have had the feeling of being lost of searching a thing i placed and searching all over. It sucks i cannot possibly imagine where it could have possibly been, my guess would be in trash. Thats funny but the pic you posted i still can see four!!!
Are you sure it wasn't aliens with a yen for tomatoes?
There could be another answer: Do Jackalopes eat tomatoes ????
I *hope* the tomato turns up, and if it does, I hope you give him a piece of your mind, bad tomato, BAD for disappearing without notice just like that!
Shesh, I'm literaly laughing out loud!
OK - enough with the Twilight Zone theories (although I gotta admit the Spontaneously Combustible tomato idea is fantastic) -- we pretty much have a confession here -- GT says he likes ketchup. I say it was GT what done it, restore my sanity, and move on.
Eric, you are the funniest writer on HubPages -- thank you for making me laugh at my own distracted brain.
Hi Teresa. Hmmm, I'm not so concerned about the plilfered Tom. SC is full of the sort that would steal them. My concern is your lack of peppercorns and the wherewithal ot get more. Ach! That is a delemma my dear. tomatos shal be freely given again I'm sure and at least all of them are not missing. I shall have to ship you some peppercorns dear Teresa. Tomato sandwiches must have fresh cracked pepper to enable one to really enjoy them. Oh, never place fresh toms in the cooler, it rapidly destroys their flavor. But you probably knew that already.
Ralwus -- trust you to pay attention to the details such as that one! I am on a rotating basis of purchase power -- no black pepper this month, but maybe next. It is teaching me a lot about enjoying what I do have. So no need to send any! But bless your heart for thinking of it!
I came over took it ate it then flew back....... thanks it tasted brilliant..... and I put some peppercorns on i still have a few left... nice hub.....
Ok Teresa, maybe it's time to call-in the big guns---Agatha Christie's Miss Marple.
My sympathies for your loss. You lead a fascinating life, Ms. McGurk.
In spite of all the little grey cells that are being employed here, the missing tomato has not turned up. It sounds like Poirot's type of case to me. Hmmm....Miss Marple might be able to solve the case -- if the missing tomato reminded her of that nasty little tomato from the garden in her own little village who ran off with the rutabaga. Don't worry, it might turnip. I really do like the thought of it being for sale in a little shop off the beaten track in the Twilight Zone....
I'm going with the theory of aliens importing it to study it as a possible souce of sustenance for them while they are on this planet. They were friendly aliens. After all, they left you with 3 others and picked the time of all of your frentic activity to zap it from you thinking that you would not notice the loss.
So sorry to hear about your broken right arm! Hope that it is much better by now and healing nicely.
And here is to some wonderful peppercorns in your future. If you decide not to wait, either ralwus or I will get some to you post haste.
So, I'm assuming it still hasn't shown up. I'm with goldentoad, I think Harvey got it...just the thing an invisible rabbit would want! LOL, I was actually glad to hear it hadn't gotten in with the towels.
Ok, OK, Ok ... It was me. I'm sitting up in your tree house waiting for coffee - get a move on !
lol Teresa - only you can write a tomato mystery so well.
I don't think its the dog - dogs will make a mess of a tomato and there will likely be signs of the carnage. I would pin it on the cat - it is probably part of the World Domination plan. Be sure to keep an eye out on kitty for the next few weeks ;)
A fantastic hub!My money's on it rolling on to the wet towels and sheets, and getting washed to death. Whaddya reckon?
PS - why on earth do you put loose tomatoes in your handbag?
Teresa, I just picked the sweetest little toms yesterday off of one of my plants. No bigger than my pinkie nail, 3 of them. Next stop, fried squash blossoms and tomato sammiches! Come see a fat man sometime for good summer eats. We'll go skinny dippin in the rain.
I am so loving everyone's theories on the whereabouts of the missing tomato that I'm glad I didn't delete this hub, after all. You are all hilarious. Thanks for the peppercorns, Brenda! And Iphi -- coffee's been on now for days! Miss Marple is on the case, but she keeps asking for cups of tea and toasted crumpets, and talking about her knitting. I don't think she has a clue, really.
Puella -- I call it my handbag -- it's more of a big leather bucket, really.
Teresa dear. Jerrilee has a fine hub on squash blossoms. Do read and be surprised.
Ok, ralwus, but I ain't eating none!
LOL Aalright then. If you insist. hehe
Hubs, like tomatoes, are known to disappear. I got my mail, about the tomato hub. I clicked the link, and the hub was not published. I checked the email, and read the first few lines. I e-mailed you my theory on the tomato.
Later (today) i noticed some one mentioned the mysterious vanishing tomato hub in one of there comments. Being quite the detective, I deduced that the hub had miraculously re appeared.
The question is, did the tomato ever re-appear?
If not, I am sure it got turned into a Bloody Mary.
The tomato is MIA, Paper Moon. It is either in a bloody Mary, in the future, or Iphi ate it, or Brenda and Iphi ate it together, or GT gave it to an invisible rabbit. I got some more though, so am happy. Picked them right off the upside down vine.
jacobt2 says:
6 months ago
The dog took it and buried it.