One fish, two fish. Who threw fish at you fish?

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The "outdoor smorgasbord" war. From, "Five Score More Tails From Offshore with Mythic Fish Mischief Galore. (unpublished)

 

 Most gardening years I grow way too much stuff.

Coming out of my ears, just can't eat enough.

Canning to tears and gave to those with it rough.

Now for a few beers and some fun food fighting fluff.

 

 Compost for sure but it's good low fat fun

and most can endure butt splats with a melon

or the rat-a-tat-SpLaT! of a radish machine gun

and pick up and whack back with a cabbage cannon.

 

 The icky lettuce and spinach is only for grinnage, 

it tickles and itches when it gets in my finnage. >-=^;>

...'The eggplant in the sky', a profound, frightening image

as the peppers fly by in this veggie fling scrimmage.

 

 The tomatoes have taste but, they're all over the place

and seem just a waste not to paste to your face.

Now it's hard to make haste in a pumpkin embrace

but what a lovely lambaste, just in case.

 

 All hail the kale, sent high speed air mail

now so slimy and pale just the thought makes one wail

as it sails with a flail and the composting pail,

though the impact won't ail, that smell's a detail.

 

 ...And now smell the power of brown cauliflower

raining down like a shower and reeking so sour.

I take cover and cower by the bean trellis tower.

This war was a wower in the gardens last hour.

 

 I stagger and stumble...I took an incoming number!

I manage to mumble, "you're not supposed to throw lumber!"

While I fade, I just grumbled, as my head slips to slumber,

"taken out and encumbered by a concretious cucumber!"

 

 With a recluses refuse, the blast we've all had.

Profuse "pew juice' is the gardens last ballad.

Coming to from my snooze, my state's deduced, sad.

I'm in a bowl full of offal, stale produce salad!

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