All right, this is just a random fic I wrote for fun :3 I actually wrote it before I wrote "Trapped." P.S. I lied in the summary and was being sarcastic. This is more humor than dramatic. And a forward note, I know sweet potatoes aren't exactly vegetables, but I didn't know what else to call them... Enjoy anyway!
The world mocks me. I was brought into this world all wrong.
I am a vegetable.
How can I think? I may never know.
Nobody understands me. Not even my other fellow sweet potatoes. Whenever I tell them that we could gain our respect only by invading this world, they laughed. Someday, I shall make them pay. I swear it.
We have been cultivated out from the womb of the earth and stuffed in uncomfortable bags, where we bang against each other. Repetitive, pointless banging. I shall rid this world of it when I become ruler.
I believe they have stuffed us into trucks and shipped us off. When I finally see the light again, I am to understand we are in a grocery store. Suddenly, I am in a bag. Another place where I bang against my brethren. Now, we are being stuffed into a small, white box where I fear we—or at least I—shall never again see the light of day. Why, world, do you decieve me?
I'm starting to plot. Thousands of plots to rule this world are flowing to me. The world is in my veggie grasp. Yes, I will take over! I am the almighty! BUA HA HA HA HA H—
Suddenly, the lid to the box has been opened. A red hand is reaching for me. Could it be? Am I being freed? Perhaps I shall spare you, red hand, once I take over.
How wrong I was. The red hand just wants to bury me in a bunch of meanigless ashes. Ashes from lost dreams, dreams that can never become realities. Dreams of a sweet potato that once wished to rule the world but was buried in its own ashes of remorse. It's getting awfully warm in here. What's going on? Am I burning? What's happening to me? Why do you hate me, world? What have I done to offend?
Phew. I remain alive… for now. But what's this? The red hand is coming back, and it's splitting me in half. What does it hope to accomplish by doing this? Perhaps it wants an army of evil yams. Scheming sweet potatoes bent on world domination. The red hand is no longer holding me. Now I am in the soft, slender hands of some other being. The being lifts me to its mandible and I can feel my beautiful flesh being torn off. No! Don't eat me! Spare this wicked vegetable! Just because I'm delicious doesn't mean I have the right to die! Saliva encases me, a slick muscle wraps around my body, and I can think no more, only hope. Hope for freedom. How, I don't know. But this may be it. As I slide down a sticky tube of the substance and into what I can only presume to be Hell, I hear the two words that shall now become my final mortal enemy that I shall drag with me into the world of death.
"Thanks, Giroro!"
End of life
Please review! I'd love to hear what you guys think about my... completely... random and undramatic... story. Yeah. Next time you eat, think about how the food feels.