A Nice Velvet Soup

The first time she passed the stall, she ignored its frank look, pretending to concentrate on the other vegetables, all of them in a frenzied state, yelling things at her like, "Me, pick me." and "I'm very fresh." On her second round the tray of radish exploded in a sing-songy chorus of joy when her hand passed over them. Their tiny voices rang shrilly in her ears and, annoyed by their jubilant certainty, she refuses to pick a bunch, which sent them into a cacophonic depression, punctuated by threats of revenge. Radish were an unstable vegetable and on top of that they often gave her heartburn. As she listened to the smooth purring of the tomatoes she was intently aware of the large turnip, that sat leering at her from the corner of the stall. As the cucumbers and the asparagus argued loudly over who was more delicious she paused, whirled around and said to the offending root, "Why do you stare like that. It's not polite."

"And why do you pretend to want anything else, when you know that in the end you will take me home with you.", said the turnip.
"Of all the nerve. You are an insolent vegetable and I should let you sit there until the rot consumes you from the inside.", she barked at it, "and perhaps I will. Then you'll not look so smug."
"Lady, you have misconstrued my intent. I seek only to save you time and expense and if by my impertinent speech I have offended, let me assure you that you and I both know where your palate will take you today."
She was impressed with this odd turnip's command of the language and hesitated for a moment while she considered the truth of what it had said to her.

The shade that the canopy provided her was welcome in the heat of the day but she knew that she couldn't dally here, so she simply picked up the turnip and paid the stupefied farmer and began the long walk home. The root, perched in the crook of her arm, was content to ride along silently until they reached the house and she entered the kitchen, where the smooth tongue of the turnip once again began to whisper in her mind. She realized, as it dreamily advised her of its condition and best method of preparation that this turnip was one of the most self-aware vegetables she had ever spoken to. 'We should all be so self-possessed', she thought, reaching for the knife.

"I wish you well, madame, and I hope you find this poor and unassuming vegetable to be to your liking.", said the turnip as the knife came close.
"Oh, you are a smooth one, aren't you?", she said with a smile.