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A Beet by  Anne Cook

A Beet by Anne Cook

I am not a picky eater. 

I eat veggies, fruits, and meats. 

There’s only one thing I despise, 

and that, dear friend, is beets. 


Last night at the dinner table,

my mother offered me a plate 

and on it were oozing red slices

of the one food I hate. 


“They’re really quite good,”

my father said with a grin. 

“Try one, and you’ll find out.”

Beet juice ran down his chin. 


“Yeah!” said my brother. 

“They may taste bad, but it’s cool. 

“When you eat a bunch of these

“you’ll have dark purple stool”


Before I could ask him

what he meant by that,

my mother shushed him

and gave my head a pat. 


“Darling child” she said. 

Her voice was nice and sweet

“I won't ask you again,”

she stabbed a juicy beet. 


She lifted it up to my face.  

“You’ll see just one won’t hurt,”

she shoved it right into my mouth. 

It tasted just like dirt.


I tried to spit it out,

but my father shouted, “Don’t you dare.”

So I twisted my face,

and I gave him a really mean stare. 


No Dessert??? by  Anne Cook

No Dessert??? by Anne Cook

“Don’t give me that look, he said

“Beets are good for your liver

“No dessert until it’s eaten up.”

I felt my stomach shiver. 


I chewed it and forced it down. 

My gross task was complete. 

Twenty years have passed,

and I still hate those nasty beets


Grumble Grizzly

Grumble Grizzly

The Princess, The Plot, and The Future

The Princess, The Plot, and The Future