I’m sure grandfather carrot grimaced as I pulled him out of the plastic bag; the one from the grocery store that identified he and his fellow carrots were “organic.”
I examined grandfather carrot closely, noting the white gnarly loopy hair that covered him, head to toe.
A raspy voice boomed out of grandfather carrot, “What are ya lookin at? You’d think you never saw hair on a carrot before.” As a matter of fact, I’ve never seen old-man-white-hair on a carrot before, and I didn’t hesitate to retort that truth to grandfather carrot.
He rattled an asthmatic-sounding cough, and I said, “You are not presenting yourself as edible. I may have to reconsider chopping you up for my chicken stew. Grandfather carrot laughed and said, “Go ahead, brave lady. Give an old carrot a shave, and I’ll show you what I’m made of!”
Grandfather carrot, after his shave and chopped to perfect bite-sized bits looked as marvellous as his fellow carrots from the bag. “Grandfather carrot, beneath your wizened old skin and copious aged white hair, you truly remained a wonderful addition to my stew.”
Of course, Grandfather carrot did not respond to me, I’d chopped him up you see?
1 thought on “The tale of grandfather carrot”
I love your imagination!
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