There lives a grumpy old man. There lives a grumpy old woman. The old man is smarter about some things than is the old woman. The old woman is smarter about some things than is the old man. Together, they live in a dumpy place known as "the grumpster". Whether they are grumpy because they live in the grumpster, or they live in the grumpster because they are grumpy, I don't know. Life at the grumpster is tough because of the old man's obsession with Colston Bassett Stilton cheese. You see, this cheese is very expensive, and there is very little money at the grumpster for expensive cheeses.
The old man sells rabbit-hair scarves at a roadside stand next to a road where the cars don't go by as often as they once did. The ones that do go by, do so faster these days, and with fewer people inside. None of them seem to contain the kind of people who would stop at a roadside stand to buy a rabbit-hair scarve from a grumpy old man. The scarves are expensive, as the old man breeds mini-lops, not Angoras. Thus, he's really left to make scarves with the hair he collects from the furniture in the grumpster, where the rabbits lounge. The old man finds cable chenille fabric very nice for attracting rabbit hair. Anyway, the hair is not plentiful, short in length when found, and so the scarves are very small, indeed.
The old man was mowing his lawn one day when he noticed a sinkhole. It had to have been of considerable size to distract his thoughts from ways to earn more income so that he may buy more Stilton cheese. Mumbling something not-so-very-nice about his septic system (for which his paper products are safe!) he fell through the ground only to find himself underground next to his root vegetable garden.Present were potatoes, carrots, turnips, and the like. And they were angry. "We have finally caught you, and now we condemn you as you would condemn us!" Having been addressed by a vegetable, the old man was startled and more than a little confused. The bad-carrot continued, "You would pluck us from our domain to enter yours.....never to return.." That's something, as bad-carrots are nowhere near as bad as bad-tomatoes, who wear berets & aviator glasses, smoke Gitanes Brunes cigarettes, and would kick you in a ditch and call it your grave so much as look at you.
"Please, have mercy on a foolish old man," he pleaded in return "I am only the product of what I have been taught...I promise you will all remain in your rightful place if only you'd set me free." Furrowing his lip, he added "For how can I tell my wife not to pluck you from your place in the earth, should I remain here with you?"
The grumpy old man's logic impressed the simple, but angry, vegetables. After conferring with his comrades, the bad-carrot told the old man that were he to leave, another must take his place, or their wrath would surely be felt.
The old man felt the viney roots peel back and form behind him in a paddle -- pushing him up through the sinkhole, depositing him in a grungy,muddy heap on his lawn next to the still-roaring mower. "Maybe", he thought, "I've finally found a way to get rid of that grumpy old woman!"
Shutting off the mower, he stomped back towards the house, navigating through the house straight towards the shower. "Where's my robe, old woman?" he roared. "Above the hamper, dear" she chuckled, "Lunch will be ready when you are done."
The old man showered with glee, thinking himself just hours away from being rid of the old woman. Sitting down to lunch afterwards, she served him his lunch of fresh garden vegetable soup with a grin. "Oh, and I'm sorry we have no cheese to go with these, dear" she sneered through her seven-inch smile.
The old man is smarter about some things than is the old woman. The old woman is smarter about some things than is the old man. The bad tomato is mean as hell, and still quite alive.