I "produce" a story...

Karl here.  Today I have prepared this for you…

Once upon a time there lived a young man named Rudy Bega.  He liked to play squash in the fields till one day he was almost gourd by a bull. 

“Beets me why you play in that field all day, Rudy,” his mother would say.  “You should find yourself some cute tomato and take her on a date.  Lettuce go out and look for one or don’t you carrot all?”

Rudy wouldn’t listen though.  He would just turnip the volume on his stereo and go on picking at the corn on his toe.  He couldn’t afford a girlfriend.  Not on his celery.  Besides he had just ended a relationship with a girl named Barbara but she treated him badly and he had come to rue Barb.

One day Rudy said to himself, “I have to pea.  I wonder if the pumpkin provide enough water to flush the commode.”  So he mustard his strength and rose out of his chair…

No, no, no.  I can’t go on.  It is too cruel to you, dear reader, to continue.  And so that I may make amends here is a sweet love poem…

Hearticulture

My spirits rose the day

I saw you on the beech.

I had searched fern wide

For a love like yew.

I kissed your tulips,

And caressed your palm.

I gazed into your irises for hours.

We rode in my two cedar sportscar.

Then I refused you a fir coat

And our love didn’t go as plant.

You decided to leaf.

And now I sadly pine.

Ok, I’ll stop.  I dare say you’ve been pun-ished enough. 

I’m Karl Fogsen.  Thanks for reading anyway.