It was Sunday -- my only day off from work, a first chance to sleep a tender blissful, peaceful sleep...dreaming of a quiet corn field, a gentle breeze, the smell of freshly cut grass...

Suddenly I was awoken by a loud Korean voice rambling from some kind of loud speaker. I squinted at the clock: 7:10 AM. Who could this be? I thought. I peeked through the blinds. The bright sun peeked back, hurting my eyes. I expected to see some kind of riot, a parade, fire trucks, a police car. A lone blue pickup truck, old and dented, sat dismally in the parking lot with a large mound of tomatoes in the bed. A megaphone vibrated on the roof.

"For chrissakes!" I yelled and flopped back down. The voice shouted on -- a rooster crooned, a dog howled in chorus. I pulled the blankets and pillow over my head but to no use; it was already hot and I started to sweat profusely. I pulled the blankets back off, keeping just the pillow over my head. Several mosquitoes bit my feet. Cursing, I ran around the room chasing them. All the while the Vegetable Man roared on.

After I killed the mosquitoes, I lay back down and wondered what the man could be saying for so long about tomatoes. I imagined his sales pitch:

"I have tomatoes for sale. But folks, these are not just ordinary tomatoes. These are 100% premium home grown mouth watering tomatoes. If you think you can find this kind of quality at Mega Mart, then you're out of your mind. So come down from your high rise apartments and pick up a few while you can. You won't be disappointed..."

I looked back out the blinds. Shockingly, the Vegetable Man was not even in his truck. He was in front of the store smoking a cigarette and chatting to an old man, yet his sales pitch continued to squawk from the megaphone. He must have pre-recorded himself on tape! I shook my head in disbelief.

For twenty more minutes I lay awake cursing and scratching my feet. Finally the Vegetable Man drove off -- his sales pitch slowly waning away. I never did fall back to sleep.

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