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Tuber War
by John Ward
They all gathered in the cellar, an old badger den, hollowed out and accessorized with a single bare light bulb. The light was for the potatoes. They had eyes. The others could have gotten by in the dark.
It was an underground meeting, not only in the sense that they it occurred in subterranean space, but also in that it was clandestine and subversive, a challenge to the established order.
“Are ye with me?” asked Teddy Turnip. “I’m tired of being rooted up and nibbled to death. It’s time to make a stand.”
“Aye,” said Billy Beet.
“What’s yer plan?” asked Yancey Yam.
“The way I sees it,” said Rudy Rutabaga, “we should lay low. We’d be useless in an attack. We’ll wait for them to make the first move and fight them on our own ground.”
“Aye,” said Billy Beet.
“The next time some rabbit grabs me by the greens and tries to pull me out, I’m digging my roots in,” said Teddy Turnip. “I’ll pull back, yank him into the hole and stuff his nose and mouth with dirt. Then I’ll tie his ears together.”
“Aye,” said Billy Beet.
“They won’t be so feisty when they’re taking a dirt bath,” said Yancey Yam. “We’ll have the advantage there.”
“Rabbits live underground, too,” said Rudy Rutabaga. “How do you know it’ll take ‘em by surprise?”
“Aye,” said Billy Beet.
“It was your idea, Rudy,” said Yancey Yam. “Are ye having second thoughts now?”
“It’s good to look into all of the details of the plan,” said Teddy Turnip. “I think we’re all right. Rabbits go into their holes to hide. They’ll be scared underground.”
“What about the moles?” asked Rudy Rutabaga. “They live underground. They ain’t like rabbits.”
“Aye,” said Billy Beet.
“We didn’t think about the moles,” said Yancey Yam. “That’s the fly in our ointment.”
“We’ll have to make them allies,” said Teddy Turnip. “It’s the only way.”
“How?” asked Rudy Rutabaga. “They eat us, too.”
“We’ll feed them the rabbits,” said Yancey Yam.
“But they’re vegetarians,” said Rudy Rutabaga.
“We’ll tell them it’s meat made from soy beans,” said Yancey Yam.
“But that’s a lie,” said Rudy Rutabaga.
“All’s fair in tuber war,” said Teddy Turnip.
“Aye,” said Billy Beet.
John A. Ward was born on Staten Island, attended Wagner College in the 60's, sold his first poem to Leatherneck magazine, and is now a biomedical scientist running, writing and living with his dance partner in San Antonio. Website: http://boogerjack.blogspot.com/
