MURDER IN THE CABBAGE PATCH.....a fake story

Once upon a time, not long ago, like about three weeks ago or something, in an unmagical place called Fu-mfr, there lived a poor little cabbage by the name of Kraut. Kraut was the smallest cabbage in the patch. He longed to be large like the rest of the cabbages. But alas, it was not meant to be. Kraut tried everything in hopes of becoming bigger. He tried sucking the dirt dry, swallowing as much water as possible, sitting in the sun till his leaves burnt and he tried hiding in the shade whenever possible. Nothing worked. Just as he was about to give up his dream of being a huge cabbage head... a mysterious man appeared and gave him some "special juice". It was great! Kraut felt strong and powerful. He started growing to monstrous proportions. All the other cabbages were jealous at Kraut's size and begged him to tell them his secret, but Kraut would do no such thing and simply smirked. Time after time the mysterious man came by with the juice just for Kraut. One hot day the other cabbages held a meeting and decided to stay away from and ignore Kraut until he'd tell them what was causing his wondrous increase. Kraut still refused and thus the distance between them continued. One cool moonlit night the mysterious man appeared. He placed his hand over Kraut's face and jerked him out of the field. Kraut tried to yell for help but he couldn't, he had no mouth. All the other cabbages were fast asleep and unaware of the horrors that were about to take place. In the morning when the rest of the cabbages awoke, they were confused and frightened by the sudden disappearance of Kraut. They tried looking and screaming his name but it was useless, they too had no mouths. The cabbages gave up (because as everyone knows, cabbages are quitters) and soon forgot all about Kraut (like in 3 minutes, cabbages aren't very bright either). Meanwhile, up in the mysterious man's house, Kraut sat there helpless, unable to escape because he had no legs. The man stood there with his back to Kraut as he sharpened the dull rusty blade of his knife. He walked back and forth, silhouetted by the sunlight coming through the cracked glass panes in the paint-chipped window. He grabbed a banged-up pot out from the rickety cabinets, filled it with water and slammed it on the stove top. He threw in a good measure of salt and started toward Kraut. A wooden board in one hand and the knife in the other. The edge of the blade now glistened as it swayed in between the rays of light flooding through the window. The knife, the boiling salt water, all the metal instruments for stabbing, pulling, and digging into his foliage. Kraut was petrified. Try as he may, he just couldn't move. As the man approached, closer...and closer, Kraut managed to muster up just enough strength to roll over. Quickly the man reached out and grabbed Kraut, pressed his face into the wooden board and began slicing away layer after layer of Kraut's head. The man only took the back half and left Kraut lying there as he tossed the rest into the pot and dunked it into the boiling, briney solution. After a few moments the man pulled out the soggy cooked strands of the back of Krauts head, dropped them onto a plate and began eating them right in front of what was left of Kraut. When the man was done, he took the remainder of Kraut, shoved him in a plastic bag, tied it up and threw it in the refrigerator. The man never came back for the rest of Kraut. Mutilated, thirsted, starved, and frozen, Kraut died a slow painful death. As Kraut's body began to wilt and decompose, the man returned. In the evening, he took Kraut's rotten corpse back out to the patch and threw it in a pile, in the corner with the other victims. Cobs that had the corn sliced right off, tops and bottoms of carrots (the middles were missing completely), skins carved off cucumbers, and the red insides of tomatoes spilled everywhere. The cabbages awoke to a beautiful sun-shiny day filled with horror as they discovered the many pieces of their friends.
So what's the moral of the story?....Don't do steroids unless you want to be killed and eaten by a farmer.
EGABBAC!