Warning! This tale contains graphic vegetable violence!
I am simply mad with glee! My first Russian dish, against all odds, actually turned out well! And it was so easy! I began by heating up the star of the soup: a monster beet, a swollen, sanguine, headstrong tuber. She instantaneously rubbed off on everyone(/thing) that she came in contact with: they all blushed crimson from the excitement of getting up close and personal with her. She was a diva, no doubt about that!
While she basked in her stovetop jacuzzi, I gathered and readied her humdrum back-up singers: drama-queen onions that tried to make up for their commonness by causing a floodgate of tears; pleasant cucumbers, reliable, restrained, and simple; rosy-cheeked, eager tomatoes that, despite their robust appearance, turned out to be mushy pushovers on the inside; and eggs, who, once you got through their hardened exterior, were actually quite soft and agreeable.
Once our diva Scarlet got out of her bath, her skin supple and warm, she met her sudden, grizzly demise. Her weary and envious back-up singers had hired a gang of hit men to mince her to shreds. Their logic? She was grating on their nerves, and, following suit with the eye-for-an-eye punishment style, they decided to grate her.
Thus, once she was nothing but shreds of her former self, they were all in it together – united as equals. However, never being one to not leave a trace, she stained everyone with a vermilion vengeance and her legacy would live from then on.