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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Humus me? My vegetated chokes ingest! (jokes all in jest) Hard to believe, I orange in a lee started life as barely visible speck! Just in the course of healthy growing season, this former minute nearly microscopic entity developed into quite pleasing nose cone herbivorous specimen, though modesty restrains me to rattle off an excess of adjectives to describe fine physique of this munch able mealy mouthed morsel. Though my existence the epitome of any ordinary carrot, the natural and man-made dangers got drilled into my cortex from the moment sprouts spring from that black kin décor fleck. Matter of fact, the bunch of family members frequently primed and trained in case creature with row of sharp front teeth seeks fancy feast These practice drills catapulted me, (and others in same graduating class) to cope with what crops up out of deeply grounded growing sense of false security. Although just equipped with only circular reddish trunk, and lack extra limbs to apply defensive maneuvers, the techniques taught to us at prestigious carrot league school focused on artfully crafty movements, sans wriggling deeper below topsoil in an attempt to thwart thumping hindquarters of one or group of rabbits. Now tis wise those once cute bunnies heed thy advice RUN RABBIT RUN! Ever since firmly anchored in the earth via number silvery tendrils as young whipper snapper, me dad constantly forewarned me to be on the lookout and take every measure to avoid the likes of Bugs Bunny, Kit Carson, Peter Cottontail, and their motley posse of voracious appetites for destruction. At prime of full-blown young adulthood, and essentially as grown prized well-rooted stew pen dis crème of the crop nose cone (built superbly shaft like), a promising adulthood awaited me. Unbeknownst to farmer Boyce Harris, this outsize conical vegetable would sprout into quite handsome inviting healthy snack. A thatch of tousled mop top red matted hair exemplify carrot teen years. So…hear me and listen up, ye hares who house a harem of hungry herbivores. Ye aint gettin to sink yaw choppers into me crunchy grate ‘C’ pulp and chamber that secretes savory sweet celluloid. I yam not stew ped! Over a goblet of fire me deathly hallowed juice will pots sub lee only grudgingly relent. Defense against the well red orange arts prepare this protean plant to avoid pursuits that whet an overly active appetite for suffering like fate of late mister potato head. At all costs, an orthodox upbringing instilled herculean efforts to steer clear of radical stirring raw bits, which subversive underground posse frequently met short, nasty and brutish outcome. Many accounts repeated detail brutish slave labor that often comprise 1. faux nose as ideal abutment to hold up bifocals for an aging frosty the snowman or 2. never volunteer myself in role of that metes outcome of scarecrow or strawman. These innocent furry creatures possess two sharp front teeth wreak havoc and rent asunder and turned many loving defenseless Daucus carota into pet trill like liquefied car rot.
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