"There's a custom among my people" the stranger said, "of sacrificing a cabbage at the end of the year."
"As the nights grow longer and the days grow colder, one cabbage is selected from the fields.
"It might be a large cabbage, or small. Fresh, or worm eaten. Green, or red. But every year, it is a special cabbage.
"And into that cabbage, we pour all our aggressions. The cabbage is split, and cored. It is boiled, and drained. Pressed, and chopped. Fried, then frozen. And then, after all that, it is boiled again.
"At the end, there is a ceremony of reunion and communion. The cabbage is eaten, with pomp and grandeur.
"And the year turns 'round again.