My husband said I should write a fairy tale, I can't imagine he was expecting this....
The Little Potato Masher
Pearl was the best potato masher in town, maybe even the universe. No tuber was safe from the wrath of her unfailing arm.
One day, while Pearl was mercilessly smashing a pile of boiled sweet potatoes, a tiny voice spoke up:
“Please,” the voice begged, “Take pity on an old soul! Pray do not mash me!”
“I must be mad,”Pearl said to herself, “for it seems as though a potato is speaking to me. Maybe mashing for 9 hours straight was a bad idea ”
“You are not mad, child,” the voice answered, “and I am not a potato. Come closer and you will see my true form.”
Pearl peered into the pile of peels and she saw a small orange creature that truly was not a potato.
“So it is not a potato, but rather a carrot that speaks to me,” Pearl mused, rubbing her eyes with a starchy hand.
The carrot sighed loudly.
“Sure, sure, whatever, I'm a carrot fairy. Hold my hand and I'll grant you a wish.”
Pearl took the carrot fairy's delicate hand and closed her eyes to make a wish. When she opened her eyes, she found herself in a strange land with purple grass so bright it burnt her retinas.
“This isn't what I wished for,” Pearl said.
“No? Well, I'm not really a carrot fairy.”
“Oh,” Pearl said, disappointed, “Do real carrot fairies grant wishes?”
The orange being glared at her, “Idiot,” it muttered.
Pearl opened her mouth to complain but a deep rumbling shook the earth beneath her feet and made the purple grass tremble.
“What's that?” asked Pearl.
“That,” said the orange creature, “is the reason I brought you here. You see, my people are embroiled in a violent political conflict with....deep roots.”
With that, the creature winked and disappeared, leaving Pearl alone with her masher as an army of raging potatoes burst from the dirt beneath her feet.
Moral: You can't trust your vegetables, so you might as well eat them.
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