Since we are discussing coffee, asparaggus and beets, here are some other
plants to chew about.
> Life in the Slaw Lane
> -Kip Adota
>> It was Cucumber the 1st. Summer was over. I had just spinached
> a long day and I was busheled. I'm the kind of guy that works
> hard for his celery, and I don't like telling you I was feeling
> a bit wilted. But I didn't carrot all, because, otherwise, things
> were vine. I try never to dasparagus, and I don't sweat the
> truffles. I'm outstanding in my field, and I know that something
> good will turnip eventually.
>> A bunch of things were going grape, and, soon, I'd be top banana.
> At least, that's my peeling. But that's enough corn -- lend me
> your ear, and lettuce continue.
>> After dressing, I stalked over to the grain station. I got there
> just in lime to catch the nine-elemon as it plowed towards the
> core of Appleton, a lentle more than a melon and a half yeast of
> Cloveland.
>> No one got off at Zucchini, so we continued on a rutaBaga. Passing
> my usual stop, I got avoCado. I haled a passing Yellow Cabbage
> and told the driver to cart me off to Broccolin. I was going to
> meet my brother across from the EggPlant, where he had a job at
> the Saffron station pumpkin gas.
>> As soon as I saw his face, I knew he was in a yam. He told me
> his wife had been raisin cane. Her name was Peaches -- a soiled
> but radishing beauty with huge gourds (my brother had always been
> a chestnut). But I could never figure out why she picked him.
> He was a skinny little stringbean who'd always suffered from
> Cerebral Parsley -- it was in our roots. Sure, we had tried to
> weed it out, but the problem still romained. He was used to having
> a tough row to hoe, but it irrigated me to see Arte-choke, and it
> bothered my brother to see his marriage go to seed.
>> Like most mapled couples, they had a lot of growing to do. Shore,
> they had sown their wild oats, but just barley, if you peas.
> Finally, Peaches had given him an ultomato. She said, "I'm hip
> to your chive, and if you don't stop smoking that herb, I'm
> going to leaf you for Basil, you fruit!" He said he didn't realize
> it had kumquat so far. Onion other hand, even though Peaches could
> be the pits, I knew she'd never call the fuzz.
>> So I said, "Hay, we're not farm from the MushRoom. Let's walk
> over." He said, "That's a very rice place! That's the same little
> bar where alfalfa my wife." When we got there, I pulled up a
> cherry and tried to produce small talk. I told him I hadn't seen
> Olive; not since I'd shelled off for a trip to Macadamia, when
> I told her we cantaloupe -- the thyme just wasn't ripe. She
> knew what I mint!
>> When we left the MushRoom, we were pretty well juiced. I told
> Arte to say hello to the boysenberry, and that I'd orange to
> see him another time.
>> Well, it all came out in the morning peppers: Arte caught Peaches
> that night with Basil, and Arte beet Basil bad, leaving him with
> two beautiful acres. Peaches? She was found in the garden --
> she'd be pruned.
>> Well, my little story is okra now. Maybe it's small potatoes.
> Me? Idaho. My name? Wheat. My friends call be `Kernel'.
> And that's life in the slaw lane. Thank you so mulch.
> It's a garden out there!
>>(the chorus, which is inserted a few times, is sung by his
>regular back-up singers. It goes:
>> Life in the Slaw Lane
> They say plants can't feel no pain
> Life in the Slaw Lane
> I've got news for you -- they're just as frail as you. )
>>
