The Legend of the "Key to Tears."

Long, long ago, when the earth was still young and the Indians roamed about America, there was a certain Indian chief. This certain Indian chief went under the name of Ralph. And Ralph was the chief of a big tribe.
Ralph had a beautiful daughter named Shallot. Shallot was kind and loving, compassionate to strangers, and always wanting to help others. Many of the braves loved her, and tried to gain her favor.
When Ralph saw an Indian sew a hundred pairs of shoes for Shallot after she expressed the desire for twenty to give to a poor Indian family living on the edge of the wood, he rolled his eyes, and felt that something ought to be done. He finally issued a decree that anyone that could make him cry could have his daughter as a wife.
Everyone knew that Ralph had never cried; not when he was a little boy lost in the woods; not when his father had died last year; not when his kingdom had been threatened by the fierce tribe on the border of his tribe, that had ended in his wife's assassin; never!
This worried the braves, and they wondered how on earth they could induce him to cry. Day after day, they would come, sit in front of the chief and tell the saddest tales they could imagine, stare at his eyes in the hopes they would water (the result of which, made their vision blurry), and anything else they could think of.
One day, when Ralph was beginning to feel tired of all of the visitors, and was just about to retire to do some hunting, a young farmer hurried in.
"Can I see you for just a moment?" he begged.
"Speak," Ralph said, inwardly sighing.
"I have what I believe to be the key to tears," the farmer said. He reached in his jacket and pulled out a knife and a small, round vegetable. this he cut in two, and handed half of it to the chief. "Smell this," he said.
Ralph sniffed it and felt a curious sensation. His eyes stung!
"Sniff it again," the farmer said, so Ralph did so. This time, his eyes grew watery. "Sniff it a third time," the farmer said, and Ralph obeyed. Tears started to slowly pour out of his eyes.
"What is that?" Ralph sobbed, pointing to the vegetable.
"I don't know. Something I discovered on my farmland."
"And what are you called?" Ralph asked.
"They call me Red Onion, sir."
"Then this also shall be called Red Onion," Ralph said, pointing to the vegetable. "You have won. Go call my daughter."
The wedding feast that evening was very great, and amongst the platters of food, a bowl of grilled onions sat in the place of honor.
Red Onion and Shallot lived in the merry tribe happily ever after.
The end.
Copyright/Curious Cognitive Content/August 6, 2008