So there I sat, mowing my lawn of destiny and being caught in the
face by the slanty red rays of the setting sun. Behind me across the
verge the beetroots grew quietly bigger, dreaming peacefully of the days
near at hand when they will blissfully garnish someone's hamburger.
Or
so I thought. For as I completed another neat row of the lawn, something
caught my eye... something long and green and red lurking in the scrub
of the verge. As I trundled closer more and more of them became
apparent. All watching me as I mowed.
Beets! They shuffled slowly out of
the scrubby grass to stand in neat rows upon my lawn. MY lawn. The Lawn
of Destiny. Fuckers. I pulled up in front of them, my eyes glittering
with the sunset light.
"What ho, Beets?" I demanded in my best British
General's voice.
A beetroot raised a finger and took a breath... and my
dream went pop. Still I found myself in this place bereft of certain
thingies. Beetroot grew everywhere, from the slushy tundra to the sweltering tropics of this place. I pooed beetroot, I sweated vomited
and pissed beetroot.
Goddammit.
What I wouldn't give for an honest block of Gruyere.
Ranted by Doomboy
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