I woke up, in a box of cabbages. A box. Of cabbages. I could feel them all around me, their evil tentacles wrapping around my head. I could tell they were cabbages because they were snickering at me, as cabbages do. No other vegetable was so mean and back-stabbing as the cabbage. By now I had used the word ‘cabbage’ so often in my head that I wasn’t even sure it was a word anymore, so I tried to fondle for my phone which I always kept in my back pocket, to see if I could search for compromising cabbage pictures on the internet, when I suddenly realised… where the fuck are my arms?

I couldn’t feel my arms. They had gone. Gone like an ice-cream on a hot summer’s day, only with more despair and general flailing. Well, flailing, had there been any arms. But I had none. They had been taken. So I tried to kick my legs… gone, too. Someone had removed all of my limbs! I was starting to get pissed off.

I tried to remember where I was before I had been put in this cabbage box. Was I drunk? Was this some kind of joke? Some kind of ‘steal the limbs and put in a cabbage box’ joke? I wasn’t sure… had I been at work? In the bath? Stealing cake from the ‘Support the Orphans’ bake sale? I couldn’t remember, but I sure hoped I’d been stealing cake.

I tried to yell for help, but found I didn’t have the facial functionality for yelling. So I tried rolling around, but also to no avail- rolling wasn’t quite the same without any arms and legs. The question now was then whether my limbs and face had been removed, or whether some bastard had actually turned me into a cabbage.

I was about to find out. From above me, I heard someone prise the top off the cabbage box and start to remove the vegetables. It grew lighter and lighter, and now I could see my wretched companions: all green and evil and cabbage-like. How I hated them. Sat there, laughing at me. They had probably stolen my phone and were using it to watch hilarious internet videos, the brainless brassicaceaes.

The person removing the cabbages eventually picked me up and moved me outside, his hairy hands all over my body, the total pervert. He placed me on top of some other cabbages and I could finally see my reflection in the wheelbarrow sat opposite.

Alas, I was a cabbage too. I would later be consumed either by fat people pretending they were thin, or thin people pretending that dieting made them happy. My leaves drooped somewhat with this realisation. This was literally the worst day ever.

32 thoughts on “Cabbage

  1. I wanted to write something amusing and witty to compliment your post, but I see the rest of the produce section beat me to it. Great post. Very entertaining.


  2. Hi, young lady–say I got an email saying that you had a new post called “Test” or “Test Post”. It doesn’t show up on your site for me, though, and if I click directly on it from the email, it goes to your blog, but comes up with “site not found” or some such thing. So, if it was a test of wordpress today, Oct. 2, 2011, I’d say they failed.

    Great “Cabbage” post, by the way. But I expect no less from you.


    1. No, they were a success! I was testing out the ‘schedule’ feature for posting automatically at a certain time, and these posts were labelled ‘Test’ and ‘Test Post’- and they worked! I deleted them off my site though as they didn’t contain any text, so don’t worry, you haven’t missed anything :) I was just trying it out because I’m ridiculously tired this evening and I don’t think I’ll be up to post at midnight, as I usually do, so I’m scheduling tomorrow’s blog post now instead, but I wanted to test out the feature first to see if it worked.

      I’d post my new story now, but as it isn’t Monday yet, I’d hate to break tradition! Keep your eyes peeled for about 00:01 though ;)

      And thanks for the comment! Sorry for any confusion.


  3. Hmmm……I didn’t know that besides being a good writer, that you were clever and funny as well. I love the humor. Keep up the good work.


  4. Lettuce pray for your deliverance soon! Some would say, “Quit, while you’re a head.” I’m not one of them. I may get a dressing-down, but I would not go gentle into that good meal.

    Nice mix of anguish and absurdity, Anna! Kafka at a salad bar.


    1. Fantastic reply! My rebuttle would be equally as witty, but my search of ‘cabbage puns’ on the internet came up blank. You have defeated me again, cursed internet! *Shakes fist dramatically*

      Thanks for stopping by :D


    1. It’s not my fault! It’s the other nasty cabbages giving good cabbages like me a bad name.


  5. Wonderful, I love how I was drawn along in the box also. I once became a bird and my cat almost ate me. :D


  6. You be careful, someone might shred you, add carrot and pour horrible salad cream over you and then what would you be? You’d be a dish of coleslaw.

    :) (The smiley is not the thought of you being shreddied or covered in salad cream, but for my delight at reading this story!)


    1. Oh, I do hope I don’t get shredded! If someone starts approaching me with some kind of grater-esque machine, that’s it… IT’S WAR!

      Thanks for the comment, Val :D


    1. Bloody Hell, that does sound terrible. We need to stop turning into leafy vegetables, it’s not good for our social lives.


  7. lol, “Some kind of ‘steal the limbs and put in a cabbage box’ joke?” is it too soon in The Anna Career to say, this is Classic Anna. I have to admit though, you did a magnificent job at putting the reader, inside the heart of the cabbage, lol. It’s like you are this Bright Floating Image, going from Description to Description, and we the readers have absolutely no idea where the ending will fall.

    Nice Clear Piece, you’ve once again delivered the reader no where they thought they’d ever go… At least not this reader, lol



    1. Thank you so much for your lovely comment, it really made me smile! I never want the reader to know where they’re going to end up… it makes the journey all the more exciting! :)


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