Rocket, or Arry (short for arugula) as he was sometimes known was a bit lonely. Hanging around the salad leaves all day long, was leaving him with the feeling that he would like to find someone special to spend some time with. Sure all the other leaves were nice to him, even welcolmed him for the pepperiness that he brought to their lives, but Rocket felt like he was the one that was always giving, always the life of the party, and hanging around the others was like listening to a soft rock station, the music is okay, but not edgy enough.

So one night he took off for the clubs, to check out the scene. Down some winding alleyways, Rocket discovered a dimly lit sign, ' Zarzuelas', the security person on the door was as large as a bull, and looked just as ornery. Carefully making his way around, Rocket entered the club. Flamenco music was in the background, and plenty of people were at the bar. He spotted La Gitana, the sherry, who was a long way from Sanlucar de Barameda, her home town. Rocket liked her for her dry sense of humour and her ability to mix with a diverse bunch, a bit of a flirt really. At the moment she was talking to the anchovie stuffed olive, they seemed to be getting on well together.

Over in one corner was the brooding Pole, Wodka. He was getting it on with Marinated Mushrooms, which was lifting his spirits. Rocket went to the bar and ordered a drink, an olive oil martini with a splash of lemon, shaken not stirred. Taking a sip of his drink, Rocket gazed around the club. La Gitana had already moved on, and was looking very familiar with Tortilla, and standing next to them was her friend from Portugal, Porto, who was looking pleased to be chatting up Blue Cheese.

At that moment the door opened and in came a very elegant couple, the bubbly Champagne and her escort for the evening, a dapper Swedish chap by the name Gravlax, a salt of the earth type. They made their way to a corner table, and Rocket noticed that La Gitana, in search of meatier conversation, was now talking to Albigondas. That girl had no shortage of admirers.

Sensing that this was not the place for him, Rocket made his way back to the street in search of more adventure, and perhaps a partner. Looking around he spotted another club called 'The Glasshouse' and ventured in. Everyone was on the dance floor, there were a lot of familiar faces, Rosemary with Lamb, Tarragon with Chicken, Parsley trying to dance with everybody. There was a fun vibe to the place, like anything goes.

Making his way to the bar, he spotted the beautiful Coriander making her way there too. She had been dancing a Salsa with some Chiles and Tomatoes. Rocket walked over to her.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

"Sure, big boy."

They walked to the bar together, Rocket could smell her pungent perfume, it was intoxicating. He ordered two olive oil martinis with a dash of lemon and they sat and chatted. After a while he realized they had a lot in common, two spirits that had strong personalities. After her dancing, Coriander was a little frayed, and pieces of her were falling onto Rocket. Suddenly, somebody bumped them and their drinks spilled onto each other. Their strong personalities merged into a very pleasing whole and Rocket realized that marriage was a distinct possibility.