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When they were alone sometimes, she softly called him “Onion Whisperer” with a Siren’s voice most intimate although that moniker she applied to him was for reasons not altogether clear, as he had no teleological disposition, viz., interest in the results of growing “large(sic) onions,” especially w.r.t. the Allium cepa generally, although he did have fond recollections of the Pan-fried rings served at this one Greecey spoon he would gastronomically frequent when he was acquiring Life Skillz, and the nymph-like smiles that the waitresses would beam to him like he was in Arcadia and junk.