Abner gets turned into a Rutabaga by Dan Schwartz
(Story part of The Many Mini Adventures of Abner the Gopher)
One fine afternoon, Abner, the traveling gopher, was casually walking down a dusty road, when hunger pangs struck him. Abner stopped, removed his thick glasses to relieve some pressure on the ridge of his nose, and looked around. Abner noticed, not too far off was a farm. Abner made his way towards the farm, intending to find a fresh feast waiting for him.
Abner arrived at the fields and he had his choice between lettuce, strawberries, and carrots, and obeying his palate, Abner went for the carrots. Abner sat on a nearby log and enjoyed his snacks, eating one after another. The gopher was as happy as could be without a care in the world, until one of the carrots from his pile, stood up and stumbled its way towards him.
“Monster,” the carrot, who was wearing long dangling earrings, a jewel encrusted headband and frayed cloth, hissed at the unsuspecting gopher. “You know not of what you have brought upon yourself.”
Shocked and apologetic, Abner apologized, “I apologize, I was just hungry and needed to nosh.”
“Fool, you just needed to nosh, you just destroyed an entire gypsy clan,” the carrot reprimanded.
“I guess I will go grab some lettuce then,” Abner said, still crewing on a carrot.
“The damage has already been dealt, and in return you shall reap what you sow,” the gypsy carrot told, while muttering what sounded to be gibberish under his breath, before lying down and shriveling up.
“How do I always place myself in these predicaments?” Abner questioned as he rested his head on the log, feeling tired, and needing a nap. “Just a little break.”
Abner awoke from his nap, expecting to be bright eyed and bushy tailed, but he felt abnormal. Abner had an unsettling sensation in his stomach, and thought a drink of fresh water might cure his ailments. Abner remembered passing a pond right up the way, so he ventured towards the water. Abner approached the water and bent over to take a drink and what he saw was not easy to swallow. Instead of seeing the brown and gray, furry face Abner had grown to love, he a saw purplish, waxy, bulbous being. Abner was no longer a gopher, Abner was a rutabaga.
“The gypsy carrot,” Abner shouted, going into hysterics. “The carrot cursed me; I need to turn back to my normal self. This is horrible.” Abner ran about looking for anything that would help, but he had no idea what would reverse the curse. “Maybe a rival clan of gypsy,” Abner thought out loud, “maybe a shaman of sorts.”
In Abner’s panic he did not hear that he was approached from behind. He felt rapid breathing down the back of what was once his neck and Abner spun around. Upon the completion of his turn, Abner was greeted face to face with a rabbit.
“I am glad you are here,” Abner commented, “you wouldn’t happen to know of anyone with mystical powers in this area by chance?”
The rabbit stared at Abner, nose twitching wildly, but not uttering a sound.
“Excuse me,” Abner readdressed, “but I am in need of help and rabbits and goph…er, no.” Abner stopped as it came to him that the rabbit was not there to help, but rather snack on him in a similar way as Abner chomping on the carrots. Abner turned what was once his tail and ran as fast as a rutabaga could. The rabbit took off after Abner, snapping bites out of Abner’s back, mid stride. Abner screamed out in agony, trying to scope out a safe haven to hide, but the field was free of proper refuge.
As Abner ran for his life, he tripped on a mound, and fell face first. He decided to turn over and look his attacker in the eye as it feasted, but when he turned, all he could see was foliage. Abner was covered, and the rabbit hopped away unknowingly leaving him behind.
“You’re welcome,” a voice came from nearby.
“Who…who is there?” Abner questioned, his mind still racing from the chase.
“Your savior,” a carrot stepped forward, covered in tribal war paint. “The name is Rooty, and who might you be?”
“Abner,” Abner answered.
“Abner?” Rooty repeated, questioning the name. “Abner does not sound Rutabagan, where do you grow from?”
Not knowing how the carrot will react to hearing he was formerly a being who feasted on his people, Abner decided to play it safe. “My parents were not really into traditional names. They hung out in the weeds for quite a while, if you know what I mean.”
“I do, my parents uprooted me and moved me to a contained above ground community. They took to the pot real quick. I can not stand users and beetniks, no offense to your spawners,” Rooty said.
“None taken,” Abner schmoozed. “I see my parents as nothing more than seeders.”
“It would be best to relocate before that rabbit realizes it lost your scent and doubles back,” Rooty declared as he turned and ran.
Feeling like his best chances of survival were with the intimidating carrot, Abner followed Rooty to what appeared to be an underground commune. Abner entered the commune through a series of tunnels burrowed in the soil and entered a fantastically built village with wondrous architecture.
“We are a dying breed,” Rooty blurted out to break the silence, as Abner marveled at his surroundings. “Harvested and slaughtered, this village is what we have left of the resistance of free radicals.”
“This is magnificent; do you live in the pyramids over there?” Abner pointed off at miniature pyramids lining the extents of the village.
“Not live,” Rooty explained, “of our fallen, those that can not be composted or recycled, we built into food pyramids.”
“Recycled?” Abner asked.
“Yes we make furniture out of the dead, it is better than letting them go to waste,” Rooty gestured to a couple of turnips carrying a large table, “that veggi-table was just crafted out of their cousins. We also have potato couches for the true couch potato.”
“I am astound…” Abner stopped short as he tripped over himself and fell to the ground, as he was gazing about.
“First day with the new feet,” Rooty joked as he helped Abner up.
“Actually, first day without mine,” Abner answered honestly.
“I wish I had time to give you a better tour, but we are preparing for battle at the moment. I was just on my way back from a reconnaissance mission to find what can be learned from the Leek Information System, when I ran into you,” Rooty explained. “Tonight we launch an all out assault on the rabbits. If you are trained in battle we could use another body, but do not feel obligated. Ever fight a rabbit?”
“Actually I have killed a bunny before,” Abner revealed, “not my proudest moment, but I was in a better shape back then. I do however owe you my life, so I will fight amongst you. Plus, I am a little bitter about almost getting eaten earlier.”
“Bitter?” Rooty questioned, “I thought Rutabaga were sweetish? Never mind, here we are.”
Abner and Rooty entered a hut, and there stood a fine assortment of vegetables talking amongst each other about the battle.
“We must attack while they sleep,” a tomato screamed.
“There is no honor in that,” a potato yelled back.
“They hold no honor, why should we?” A mushroom added.
“Attention,” Rooty barked, “we have been planning for too long to change the plan of attack now. We attack at sundown, and we all grew in the soil, we should have no problem fighting dirty. You all knew what you were getting yourselves into. Beet, run down the schedule one last time.”
“Right away sir,” Beet started. “At sundown we send in the Scallion Battalion for the first strike in the resting grounds of the rabbits. Their speed and agility should be used to inflict many non-fatal wounds to slow them down, but we should not suffer many casualties. We do not anticipate that the rabbits will stay asleep for long, so once the commotion is in motion, we shall release the potatoes, beets, and tomatoes into the mix. Their strength should be the best match to weaken the rabbits. Once the rabbits start to tire, the carrots, garlic, and mushrooms shall charge and try to deliver as many finishing blows as possible.”
“We also have a newcomer, a rutabaga, he should prove useful,” Rooty added.
“Can he be trusted,” a potato sneered, as he approached Abner.
“He is vegetable, we are united under a common enemy,” Rooty spoke boldly, “we need all the help we can get.”
“Rutabaga do not grow in these parts for just reasons,” the potato shouted as it stormed out of the tent.
Another potato with a softer feminine look stepped up to Abner, “do not mind Starchy, he gets this way before battle.” The second potato then followed the first out of the hut.
“Pay no mind to them,” a mushroom said, “Starchy is as mean as they come since most of his family was lost to the potato famine. His wife though, Atapa, she is as nice as they come, a genuine sweet potato.”
“Fungarus, backgrounds of our warriors are irrelevant to us at this moment,” Rooty reprimanded the mushroom. “Keep your head in the game.”
“I shall go check our weapons one last time,” the garlic stepped up.
“Excellent, take the rutabaga with you, give him a quick introduction to our weapons and find him one that he is comfortable with,” Rooty ordered.
The garlic nodded and took Abner to the weapons storage. “I do not have to call you rutabaga. I could call you by your given name if you would like,” the garlic commented to Abner as he rummaged through crates.
“Abner,” Abner announced. “What may I call you?”
“Vlad Garlac,” the garlic declared. “Ever use a Blade of Grass?”
Abner was handed a sword tightly woven from sturdy grass blades. Abner took the sword and practiced some maneuvers. “This works,” Abner nodded. “Rooty said I had an uncommon name, but Vlad Garlac seems out there as well.”
“The name was not always Vlad Garlac,” the garlic said with remorse, “I had to take the name after I was bitten by a vampire, and it has become me.”
“I thought vampires hated garlic,” Abner remarked.
“They do, it was accidental,” Vlad Garlac explained. “I was being worn as a necklace, by a young human, trying to ward off vampires. Unfortunately, the vampire prowling the night, happen to have poor eyesight, as well as a cold that impaired his sense of smell. He closed in on the girl, went to bite her neck and sunk his teeth into me instead. Ever since then I have been a vampire and decided to go by a more vampiric name.”
“Are you affected by garlic the same as a normal vampire?” Abner voiced concern.
“More so,” Vlad Garlac revealed, “I hate myself. I can not stand being me; I would not look myself in the mirror even if I did have a reflection. My only solace is that I may die on the battlefield tonight.”
Abner did not know what to say, so he stayed silent. The two of them went through the weapons and checked them to assure they were battle ready. After a thorough inspection, the two reported back to Rooty, who was finishing his prep talk to his troops.
“…and he ate the whole thing,” Rooty finished, and was met by a round of applause and cheers. “I would now like our religious advisors to say a prayer for those of us who will fall tonight. Please allow the Collared Greens to warm your spirits.” Rooty walked out from his podium, as the vegetable priests approached.
“Weapons are in tip top shape,” Vlad Garlac whispered to Rooty.
“Excellent, the time for the vegetables to rise is upon us,” Rooty smirked. “Arm the troops, and then we march.”
After the inspirational speech, the vegetable army grabbed their weapons, and fell into order in front of Rooty. Abner stayed close by to Vlad Garlac as to not get in anybodies way. When all the soldiers were present, Rooty raised his sword and led the march.
The edible army marched in silence until they arrived to the battlegrounds. They heard the muffled snoring of the rabbit beasts mid slumber. Some shivered in fear, others rallied in angst, but Rooty stayed calm. He glared into the bushes where the rabbits camped and signaled for the Scallion Battalion to unleash their fury. The scallions valiantly ran into to rabbit nesting grounds, out of sight to those who bravely waited for their time.
“I do not hear anything,” Fungarus nervously stated after some time passed.
“We should have heard some commotion by now, something is askew,” Rooty said. “Prepare the potatoes, beets, and tomatoes.”
The three food groups readied and on Rooty’s orders began for the rabbit grounds. Just before they entered the bushes, the tomatoes stepped aside and the potatoes and beets continued on. Moment later, the screams of the vegetables could be heard.
“Tomatoes, what are you doing,” Rooty shouted, “this is war, what are you doing?”
One tomato spoke up, “we are not with you anymore. We have made a deal with the rabbits. We were to deliver them a feast, and in return they were no longer going to eat tomatoes.”
“Cowards,” Rooty screamed, “traitors, we are brethren.”
“We were never brethren,” the saucy tomato scoffed, “we tomatoes were ousted by the fruits and vegetables alike, no one will take claim to our kind. This is about survival. Tomatoes, lets go home.”
The tomatoes turned and headed off while the rest of the vegetables witnessed the shameful display. The tomatoes marched into some lightly colored brush that started to rustle at their arrival. All the leaf-like beings around them started to shuffle and started attaching themselves to the tomatoes. “Hornworms, run,” the tomatoes yelled, but it was too late. The tomatoes had too been double crossed, and were sold out by the rabbits.
A slight glint came to Rooty’s eye as he witnessed some fine comeuppance, but did not take any further moment to enjoy, “everyone get in there. Give it your all. Show them your raw uncooked power.”
The entire brigade ran through the bushes to an unappealing sight. The rabbits had been waiting for the vegetables with empty bellies. All the vegetables from the two previous waves of attacks were in shambles, covering the ground in tattered parts, or hanging from the mouths of gnawing rabbits.
Abner saw Beet gasping for life in front of him, and ran to his aid. Beet was barely recognizable with the damage he was inflicted. Abner could not believe the atrocity before him, “this can’t be Beet,” Abner cried.
Abner bent down to console the dying bloodied beet, but Rooty grabbed his shoulder preventing him from going further, “be careful he stains.”
The battle continued on, with the vegetables being severely outnumbered and overpowered, but still they persisted. Abner tried his best, but fighting in the body of a rutabaga is not an easy task for beginners. Rooty and Fungarus however were as skilled as they come. Swiftly running from rabbit to rabbit and cutting out aortas and tracheas. The battlefield was being overcome with gore, matted with fur and vegetable shreds, it looked like a macabre tossed salad.
After many hours of combat, the rabbits began to back off. The vegetables claimed the retreat was a victory, but a keen observer could identify that the rabbits had simply eaten there share of opponents and were full, and no longer saw a need to be there. Either way, the night was silent, and Rooty tallied up the casualties. Many brave lives were lost, reducing the vegetable resistance by great numbers.
Abner, tired and bruised, was grateful to have not seen his death. He made his way through the mess and stumbled upon the body of Vlad Garlac lying lifeless. “He was a tortured soul,” Abner mourned, “but this is the outcome he desired.” Abner shed a tear for the garlic, and in front of the surviving army Abner transformed. Abner took to his original shape of a gopher. The vegetables screamed in horror at the thought of allying themselves with the enemy.
“First the tomatoes, but now the rutabaga,” Fungarus shouted as he steadied his sword. “I feel like I am over boiling water, I am getting so steamed.”
Not wanting to have to fight his former army Abner tired to explain himself, “it is not what it seems.”
“So you were not a gopher into turned a rutabaga, seeking refuge with the vegetables, fighting with the vegetables just to break the hearts of the vegetables upon seeing you turn back into gopher?” Rooty asked.
“Well, if you put it like that, it is exactly what is seems,” Abner confessed, “but I have learned a valuable lesson. Being a vegetable was rad, well not completely rad, just rad-ish, but the way you took me in and accepted me. I have changed because of it.”
As Abner tried to win over the crowd, the shaking of leaves in the bushes caught everyone’s attention as a hideous purple eggplant emerged, toppling its way towards Abner.
“I fight alongside you and you unleash this upon me,” Abner yelled in frustration.
“He is not with us,” Rooty declared, “the eggplant is neither egg, nor plant, it is an abomination.”
“Wow, I guess Piffle got one right,” Abner commented to himself as he prepared for the equally sized eggplant to attack. The eggplant clumsily lunged itself at Abner, who quickly evade, took hold of the eggplant and ripped it in half.
The vegetables watched in awe at the spectacle. “He surely would have finished us off,” Fungarus solemnly said, “the gopher saved us.”
“Like I was trying to say,” Abner pleaded, “some of my closest friends were corn. One had an entire corn army at his disposal, and for me he was always there to lend an ear. I am not a bad gopher, and as a result, I vow never to eat another vegetable. From this moment hereon, this gopher is a carnivore.”
“We are indebted to you gopher, I mean Abner,” Rooty thanked. “If you ever find yourself in these parts again, do not hesitate to not be a stranger.”
Abner hugged the vegetables and walked away a changed gopher. He tried to turn over a new leaf of becoming a carnivore, and gave it his all. He was doing well until a scenario involving a chicken nugget, a hospital and a stomach pump, and then Abner decided it may be best to stick with a normal gopher diet, but he did try.
If you enjoyed this story, the full collection (The Many Mini Adventures of Abner the Gopher) is available on smashwords. Abner is also a feature character in No Cure for Nature – Part I and Part II, and as you may have guessed, both are available on smashwords.