The Tuber

Kassima: "I just don't understand how anyone can *like* those Evil Slug-Like Veggies."

The Tuber

Once upon a dark day dreary,
While I slaved, all weak and weary,
Over a stew pot that had been in use for thirty Turns or more--
As I toiled there, nearly napping,
My last ounce of mind close to snapping,
I saw a piece of something flapping, something left from meals before.
"What is that thing," I asked, "left over from meals before?
'Tis a veggie, nothing more."

Ah, so bleakly I remember
Having veggies to dismember
As each seperate dying ember burnt my foot, upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow,
For long had I sought to borrow
From my coz, surcease of sorrow--sorrow for marks lost before.
For marks wagered and won, but not repaid, that made me poor--
I'll bet with Thera nevermore.

And now my thoughts turned quite uncertain
As I stared out at the curtain
Of dark rain, my hand still hurtin' from knife strokes misdealt a'fore.
I cast a worried glance quite fleeting
At the pot, and stood repeating,
"'Tis some veggie no one was eating from dinner a night before.
Some old piece of veggie that no one had cared to eat before.
This it is, and nothing more."

Soon enough, my eyes grew stronger,
Blinded by cooking smoke no longer.
I peered down in the pot, kicking aside a snake upon the floor.
And I saw the foul thing flapping,
There against the pot's side snapping
Was a tuber! Evil tuber, like many I had seen before.
'Twas a foul and reeking tuber, caked on the pot from meals before--
I screamed and threw it to the floor!

Deep into that stew pot peering,
Long I stood there, nauseous, fearing--
Doubting anyone was sane who'd eat tubers, one or more.
But the pot was still unbroken,
And the tuber was a token
That someone had eaten of the foul things only one night before.
Someone had put those vile things in their mouth only a night before!
I said, "Ugh," and then no more.

Back to my grim workload turning,
Yet curiousity was burning.
What, I wondered, did a tuber taste like? I'd not had one before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is
Not so bad as bean or radish--
Let me see then what this taste is, and this mystery explore.
Let my stomach stop being queasy and this mystery explore."
I picked the pot off of the floor.

Repressing a final shudder,
And my strong disgust so utter,
I took the piece of tuber out from the pot, and it flapped no more.
It did not look one bit tasty,
And I thought my choice was hasty,
But before I could replace the tuber in the pot as 'twas before
I bit into the veggie, as I had never done before--
And spit it back upon the floor.

And the tuber, never flitting,
Still is sitting, still is sitting,
Behind the kitchen stove, on the otherwise clean floor.
And its blahness is still teeming
With more vile taste than you'd be dreaming.
And I know from that experience with the tuber on the floor,
With the wretched taste of that foul tuber on the floor,
I shall taste tubers--nevermore!

		---Written by Kassima.

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