The carrots had come a long way since they had risen above ground, taking even grown cabbage hostage and leaving only wilted lettuce in their wake. Oh how the zucchini children had cried over their lost parents, dark green skin peeled away to reveal the pale core beneath. The orphans had been taken in by tomatoes, still safe hanging above the ground.

Pumpkins lay shattered in the dust, orange shell and fibrous innards scattered across the dead and dying strawberries. Oh, they had been the first to go, hanging so low to the ground as to tempt the orange tyrants from their placidity beneath the ground. Parsnips and potatoes had fled in fear, lecturing their children of the happiness the carrots were giving up. “To live below ground,” Tuberus, their wise elder told them, “is to truly live.”

The fruit trees remained a staunch sanctuary for those fleeing the wrath of the mad vegetables. Apples and oranges had come together, gathering berries among them.

The bloodthirst of the orange army was not quenched.