VeggieTales! The kid across the street came up with a first sentence for me and asked me to write a story for it. What started out as a short story quickly became an elaborate parody in a matter of minutes... and this is what happened.

There once was a guy that had issues about his personal hygiene. And his name was…

LARRY the CUCUMBER.

…

Larry was a cucumber. Although he had no appendages to propel himself throughout the kitchen and pick up objects, he was able to magically float from place to place. He was very in-tune with the Force.

His best friend was a red, round tomato named Bob. In truth, his name was Roberto Joseph Alphonse William Edwardson, but everyone called him Bob. Bob was also able to use the Force in order to pick up objects, but he was not nearly as great a Jedi Master as Larry. However, that's quite a different story.

The predicament occurred at 3:27 in the morning, right after Larry's early-morning tuba practice. Several neighbors- awoken by what they thought were the bellows of dying animals- threatened to call the police, so Larry slipped quietly into his bathroom.

Now, before I tell you the rest of the story, I must give you an explanation so that you, reader, will understand the situation that is unfolding.

Larry's bathroom was special. Although it was called a bathroom, Larry knew he had no need for a bath. His bathroom's sole purpose was to house his most valued possession (aside from his blue plastic lobster). His bathroom was devoted entirely to…

His hairbrush.

Why, it didn't matter that Larry did not have a single strand of hair. That was beside the point. He loved his beautiful hairbrush and floated it above his head every night.

However, his buddy Bob was worried about him. Larry was becoming even more stinky every day, to the point of which mold began to grow on his back. Bob knew that Larry needed to use his bathroom for its true purpose- to take a bath.

And so, Mr. Roberto Joseph Alphonse William Edwardson came up with an ingenious plot- a solution that would ease his mind, give Larry a bath, and serve the needy all at once.

He would steal the hairbrush.

And he would give it to the peach.

It was perfect. Once the distraction- the hairbrush- was out of the way, Larry would finally discover the true uses for his bathroom. He would finally be clean and Bob wouldn't have to worry.

There was a fruit who sat behind the side door, alone, forgotten. Bob had seen this fruit before- the peach- and often felt sorry for the poor, unfortunate soul. The peach had a mountain of unruly fuzz atop his noggin and was desperately in need for a nice brushing. He could definitely use Larry's hairbrush.

Bob was completely sure that he was doing the right thing. He felt good being able to help his good friend as well as a fellow fruit. (Yes, Bob considered himself a fruit and not a vegetable. After much soul-searching on his part, he found that he really was a fruit at heart.) Bob did not even think about the fact that he was stealing. Or, rather, taking without asking.

Now, back to Larry. It is 3:27. He is in his bathroom.

Larry, slightly depressed and in no doubt insulted, was in need of comfort. He focused the Force on the drawer before him and ushered it open, as he often did in these times.

He reached out- at least, metaphorically- but there was nothing to reach for. The drawer was empty.

At first, Larry couldn't register what was happening in front of him. He simply laughed, opened the other drawers (they were empty), and scanned the floor (it was bare, save for a few cracker crumbs). But he knew what was happening. Deep inside of him, he knew.

His hairbrush… Was gone.

Flying into what must have been a mixture of rage, confusion, shock, disgust, hunger, boredom, and utter notoriety, he burst into song. (The neighbors called it wailing, but Larry insists that he was singing.) And so, in rapturous dissonance, he composed an epic melody.

"Where… is my hairbrush?

Where… is my hairbrush?

….

…is my hairbrush?" (repeat as many times as necessary)

He ran into the hallway, shrieking, "BOB! BOB!" Bob, who was hopping around in Larry's kitchen for some unnamed reason, turned around with a start. "Er… Larry?"

Larry gave a piercing stare straight at Bob, who immediately began to break into a cold sweat. "Bob," Larry began, "Do you know-"

"IT WAS ME! I'M SO SORRY! I TOOK YOUR HAIRBRUSH! I DIDN'T MEAN TO BUT I WANTED TO YOU TAKE A BATH SINCE YOU HAVE POOR PERSONAL HYGIENE! I GAVE IT TO THE PEACH 'CAUSE HE NEEDED IT AND HE'S A FRUIT! OH, AND I BROKE YOUR SISTER'S IPHONE WHEN I USED IT TO UNCLOG THE SINK BUT IT WASN'T MY FAULT! FORGIVE MEEEEE!" Bob interrupted Larry, whose expression turned from confused to utterly enraged.

"You… what? You took my hairbrush? I wasn't even going to ask that question, but… you… you thieves are all the same!" Larry was on the verge of tears as he howled at Bob.

Bob began to babble. (Beside the tweedle-beetles' battle in a bottle. On top of a noodle-eating poodle, of course.) "Buh- buh- but- you- meh- cheese- er- disestablishmentarianism- wh- wha- What were you going to ask, then?"

Larry coughed. "I was going to ask you what seven times seventy was," he answered.

Bob softened. "Oh, so you could forgive someone? Well, that's very kind of you! I'm in need of forgiveness right now, you know? So, please, if you will… and seven times seventy is seven hundred, by the way."

Larry looked at him strangely. "Huh? I was asking because I forgot to do my math homework." He shook his head sadly. "And I don't believe you, anyway. I can't believe you after what you've done to me. I'm going to ask Qwerty." He walked towards the computer in the corner, which was somehow located in his kitchen.

Bob turned pale. "No, not Qwerty!" he shrieked. "I'm so sorry! Please don't talk to Qwerty!"

But it was too late. Larry turned on the computer. He went to Google ('cause Google knows everything, despite whatever Yahoo or Bing say) and typed "What is 7 times 70" into the search bar.

In 0.002 seconds, Google answered, "490." And it was correct. Qwerty had found the right answer.

Bob grew even paler. "Larry, I'm sorry- I honestly didn't know!"

But Larry didn't listen. He was too enamored with Qwerty- the girl who had given him the right answer.

"Larry!" Bob cried out.

Larry couldn't hear.

…

In the end, Larry never did get his hairbrush back. He never took a bath, either. He did, however, become an unexpected computer geek and spent his life upgrading and spending time with his beautiful, wonderful, Qwerty. He knew that she would never fail him. She would never lie. She would never steal his possessions.

Bob never talked to Larry again. Rather, Larry never talked to him again- no matter how hard Bob tried, all Larry could hear was his glorious Qwerty. Bob, deep in depression, sought relief. He escaped to a salad bar one night and was never seen again.

The peach, however, was the lucky one. Once his beautiful fuzz was brushed, he was named the most handsome fruit of the year. He became very famous, took up an acting career, and started a hit TV series called "Fruity Tales." But despite how far he went, he never forgot the great kindness a tomato and a cucumber had given him at the price of their lives. He never forgot…

…his hairbrush.