Reading this comic in 1980-something was the first time I ever heard of people peeling carrots
My family would wash them, cut them (or not) and bake, fry or steam them
And the Angel of the Lord came unto me
Snatching me up from my place of slumber
And took me on high and higher still
Until we moved to the spaces betwixt the air itself
And he brought me into a vast farmland of our own Midwest
And as we descended, cries of impending doom rose from the soil
One thousand, nay, a million voices full of fear
And terror possessed me then
And I begged, “Angel of the Lord, what are these tortured screams?”
And the angel said unto me
“These are the cries of the carrots, the cries of the carrots!
You see, Reverend Maynard
Tomorrow is harvest day and to them, it is the Holocaust”
