Cabbage

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?