Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Conan The Marauding Pink Fur Apple Potato



It’s been a terrible year for vegetable growing. From the wizened tomatoes, dangling from their stems like the scrotums of badly beaten badgers, to the sorry sprouts of chili peppers masquerading as fairy thimbles, every single thing I planted in the spring has been a disappointment.

So imagine my glee when I was woken this morning by hearty cries of ‘have at thee, thou menacing slug fiend!’ I dashed downstairs to see this feisty beggar scything his way through the grass surrounding the potato patch.

I’ve had to lock him away in a biscuit tin. Problem is — will he get any bigger if I feed him another dog?

39 comments:

writtenwyrdd said...

He might be just fine with mulch, Whirl. But you could try a very small dog, say a Chihuahua...

You know that bit of flash fiction I wrote for your contest? It's been accepted by a publisher. It's nice to get positive feedback, even if there's nearly no money in it!

Kiersten said...

Good heavens, how terrifying.

Mom In Scrubs said...

Wooo...he lookslike a fearsome beastie! I'd keep him locked away until he sprouts.

We here in the US Midwest have an annual State Fair...ours has a contest specifically for "ugliest vegetable." Though he is, in practicality, a tuber, I imagine he might have taken top prize!

And I feel "ugliest" is a poor descriptor. "Most Unique" might be a less judgemental term... Though Conan doesn't look like he would mind.

Whirlochre said...

Glad to hear something good came of it, WW.

blogless troll said...

I wouldn't mess with that dude.

Robin S. said...

Wow to two things.

1- That's one wacked out spud.

2-You garden? I'm shocked and impressed in equal measure.

writtenwyrdd said...

I meant to mention it reminds me of the mandrakes in harry Potter. The idea back when was that if the root resembled a human being it had more potency. Weird symbolic magical herbalism stuff.

Perhaps you might have him out on Halloween/All Hallows Eve or whatever you guys call it? Do you carve turnips in the UK like my Irish friends do?

Natalie said...

That's pretty freaky.

Whirlochre said...

Yes, we carve open all manner of veg here on Halloween — including the skulls of elderly neighbours.

writtenwyrdd said...

"Including the skulls of elderly neighbors." Hah! That would make an interesting twist in a story, wouldn't it? Hmmm...thinking cap on...

Whirlochre said...

Go get 'em, WW.

Robin S. said...

Hey, Whirl. Are you OK? This is a long time not to be seeing a comment from you, ya know...

Whirlochre said...

Whirl threw open the lid of his casket and checked his Minnie Mouse alarm clock.

'Hmmph,' he said. 'Last time I buy rechargeable batteries from a mutant.'

He yanked a brass lever above the mini bar, listening out for the tell-tale whirr of cogs that would tip him down the wooden chute to his writing desk. When nothing happened, he sat up and called for his servants to line up a selection of conveyances. One by one, they limped into the dank tomb bearing wheelbarrows, sedan chairs and a wickerwork hammock slung between oxen.

Whirl dismissed the wheelbarrows out of hand. Filthy. He brushed the cat hairs off the sedan chair cushions. Furry.

'The hammock,' he commanded, with a swish of his cape.

The servants hauled him aloft to riotous applause. Whirl swang himself from sise to side like a pendulum.

'Forget writing,' he said. 'Wind up the Wheel Of Death! I crave sensation!'

Anonymous said...

that's so cool. where's the rest of it? ww

Whirlochre said...

The knobbliest of the servants unleashed the key from its cage and everyone ducked while it span and dived overhead like an enraged spitfire before clunking into the angular keyhole set into the wall.

Whirl grasped the ornamental metal loop and turned it over and over till the floor vibrated and the lesser servants fled. A giant wooden barrel descended from the ceiling on chains, spinning like the drum of a washing machine. Whipping the oxen hard with a rolled up manuscript, Whirl ordered them into the revolving woodwork.

'Fly, my pretties, fly,' he screamed, adjusting his head on the wickerwork hammock for maximum comfort...

Robin S. said...

Love it. Truly.

Kiersten said...

See, clearly, you were just being lazy.

Your brand of lazy sounds much cooler than mine though.

"Please, please, just leave me alone for a few minutes, okay?" Kiersten whined to her kids, collapsing on the couch. Naturally, they ignored her request and proceeded to climb all over her, kneeing and headbutting and elbowing every tender or painful place possible until she finally stood up and fled lest she begin to yell.


I'd rather have a hammock and oxen.

JaneyV said...

I'm sorry but when I saw Conan first I thought he was something a dog had eaten previously. My sincerest apologies Conan. You are one heck of a spud.

Whirl - the hammock and oxen - can you buy them at your local Tesco or do you have to go out of town to a Superstore? I want me some!

Whirlochre said...

Try DFS (Desperately Frivolous Scenarios).

JaneyV said...

I thought that was Disgusting F*%£ing Sofas - glad to hear their branching out into livestock.

freddie said...

Whirl, is Conan missing his butt? Because, seriously, I have a potato that looks like a butt. I think it might be Conan's.

I'd send pics, but my phone no longer has web service.

writtenwyrdd said...

Conan is the most blobular of potatoes, but I'd just boil him up with garlic.

I am cruel, yes. Bwahahaha!

I hope you keep the tale going. Chapter 3 hoves over the horizon, yes?

Whirlochre said...

Freddie

It's an awful thought, but maybe all the potatoes we've been tucking into over the past fortnight, if gathered together and assembled into one huge potato...

freddie said...

. . . they could terrorize both sides of the Atlantic until the U.S. and Great Britain build the world's biggest KitchenAid mixer. Then we trap the big potato, pitch him in (butt and all) and make the world's biggest bowl of mashed potatoes.

I think the world would be a more peaceful place. Don't you?

No, I'm not drunk. Why do you ask?

Whirlochre said...

Hey — we're hosting the next olympics. I might suggest the events take place in waist-high mashed potato (except for the high diving, which would require the full depth).

ChrisEldin said...

I want this visual out of my head.

Whirlochre said...

I have mange tout primed with suction pumps.

Kiersten said...

Hi Whirl.

How's your Spud? How's your Spawn? How's your (Some other cleverly alliterated word that starts with S)? And, most importantly, how's your WIP?

Also, hi. (I know! Original, huh?)

Whirlochre said...

I'm sitting on three or four chapters, more or less complete but for odd niggly lines and paragraphs, so hopefully some of thses will leap across the word count threshold soon.

Robin S. said...

You know, it just occurred to me to ask...what's Mr. Potato Head covering up with his left arm?

Whirlochre said...

He has an embarrassing mole just below his navel.

McKoala said...

That's a scary spud. Looks just like his master.

Hang on, I've a feeling I'm supposed to be doing something for you... I am, aren't I? *scurries to email*

Mary said...

You could try feeding him corn dogs instead. I just read about them on Travis Erwin’s blog: http://traviserwin.blogspot.com

Whirlochre said...

Corn dogs? Yuck!

There's something horrible about the thought of touching a corn dog — worse than swallowing a slug.

Kiersten said...

I know something worse than touching a corndog--cleaning up after my son has eaten and then thrown one up.

Yeah, I coulda used Conan on that one.

Whirlochre said...

It's true — his eyes are vomit-absorbent.

sylvia said...

Wow, he's great!

fairyhedgehog said...

I don't remember this from the first time around.

I wonder if this is what a mandrake looks like.

Robin S. said...

That sucker looks like it should be able to walk and talk. Kinda freaky.