Gretel Beljar

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Crunchy Crafts
9/21/2019 11:36pm


“That was the best salad I ever et!”

Young Jimmy Apples pushed the giant wooden bowl away and burped.

"Fan go dtí go músclóidh spiorad an duine sin thú! Tá tú díreach tar éis spiorad a chur ort. B'fhearr duit a bheith ullamh nuair a dhúisíonn sé!"

Fecund Bogsoil looked at another forkful, then chomped it down.

After our epic quest through these caverns of unspeakable vegetative horror, it was a feast well deserved. The malign cellulose monstrosity that had absorbed the consciousness of @Herbert Albert had been defeated. Y-971's julienne mode made quick work of the Cabbage King and his army, and our famished party was more than ready to apply the coup de grâce to its remnants.  

"I suggest we leave the catacombs the way we came," said Y-971 between bites. "I could bore through to the surface directly from here, but we should not create more entries into this pocket of botanical proto-consciousness."

Y-971 was right. We needed to make sure no other unsuspecting visitors fell prey to this dreaming mass of vegetation, like a venus fly trap just below the surface of the earth, waiting to swallow the soul of another unsuspecting visitor. 

"We'll retrace our path and seal up the entrance. Maybe move the dumpsters around to cover it. It's too dangerous to allow anyone near. Some yellow caution tape should do it."

One more night in this highly oxygenated green gloom, then it's back across the Cucumber Sea, through the Nostril Plains, and up the Central Shaft.

Suddenly those Pringles @Herbert Albert left near the front door are sounding mighty good.

Yours sincerely,


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Crunchy Crafts
9/1/2019 8:18pm


“It was just one puny carrot!” whined Young Jimmy Apples. “I seen baby carrots outuva bag bigger than that shrimp.”

“These viny bonds,” whispered Y-971, “while resilient, could be sliced through quite easily in my diamond form. Shall I assume it?”

“Not yet, Y-971. I’ll let you know.”

The Vegetable People did not take kindly to our gleaning of their fertile land. Perfect rows of carrots and cucumbers, tomatoes and beets, stretched as far as the eye could see under the green twilight. Famished from our travels, Young Jimmy Apples snatched at the first thing he laid eyes on. Frankly we weren’t prepared for the coordinated response—the rows and rows of produce seemingly ripe for the picking were in actuality breeding grounds for a massive army. Ranks of carrot soldiers with tousled green hair pulled themselves from the earth and shook off their clods. Cucumbers rose above their beds, dangling like pickles in the air and wearing mad grins. Tomatoes waved their acid bomb arms while the beets showed their needle teeth and hissed.

We were quickly overwhelmed, trussed like deer and hung from poles, and brought before their king. He presided over a bubbling well of black and green ooze.

"Aaayeeeeeee! Gan filleadh ar an móin arís! Ní féidir liom!!!" Fecund Bogsoil cried.

The king was a wizened old cabbage the size of a truck. His leathery leaves rustled as he turned to face us, and as he did, the giant, puffy vegan features of @Herbert Albert looked upon us once again.



Crunchy Crafts
8/25/2019 9:55pm


We lost track of time crossing the Vegetable Sea. Young Jimmy Apples had discovered a beautiful pea-green boat on the soggy shore, just big enough for the four of us. Y-971 maintained a steady pace, oars splashing in the cucumber water like a motor boat.

"Téann na tuar aislingí i dteagmháil le cladaí i bhfad ó bhaile," Fecund Bogsoil mused from the back of the boat.

Our food supplies from the Psyhigh Student Craft Market dwindled to a few slices of quince, which we ate with a runcible spoon. The cucumber water was satisfying, not to mention anti-inflammatory, but soon it would be time to gather more sustenance, on the far side of the shore.

"There!" cried Young Jimmy Apples from the bow. "Land ho! Vegetable land!"


Crunchy Crafts
8/4/2019 10:37pm


"It's got my leg it's got my leg gemme out gemme out hallllllllllllllllllllp!!!!'

Young Jimmy Apples' leg was sunk in a hole in the soft vegetable floor of the cavern.

"Quick! It's warm and mushy and it's going to eat my leg right off! Hurry!"

Y-971 knelt down to examine the hole Young Jimmy Apples was stuck in.

"There are what appear to be flat teeth, but they are not--"

Suddenly Young Jimmy Apples was flung up into the air.

The hole sputtered, and from behind came an ear-splitting croak.


Great vents, or blowholes--a pair of them extruding from the vegetable surface.

"Stay away from that hole," I ordered the team. "And watch your step. Walk this way."

"Dá bhféadfainn siúl ar an mbealach sin, ní bheadh ​​an cána draíochta seo de dhíth orm," muttered Fecund Bogsoil.

"Now careful, don't step, but look."

The soft undulations of the squishy green floor had seemed random, but, when looked at as a whole... there were great sleepy eyelids made of leaves, with parsley eyebrows and eyelashes; gourd-like protuberances dotted with nostrils poking up here and there; soft bog holes of grassy lips and slimy green tongues.

There was a giant, mutated face in the vegetable floor. The distorted vegetable face of @Herbert Albert. And it was snoring.

"Ní dhéanann sé ach aisling na nglasraí a aisling, a dhéanann sé," Fecund Bogsoil said ominously.


Crunchy Crafts
7/19/2019 8:26pm


The central shaft was ribbed with celery, and offered no resistance to our flimflams and pitons as we made our descent into the pit of unknown vegetable madness.

“Weeeeeeeee!” cried Young Jimmy Apples as he unfurled his Calabari rope and flew into the darkness below us.

“Aieeeee buachaill! Má choinníonn tú ag léim thart ar nós gabhar buí beidh tú ag fáil bháis dúinn uile!” Fecund Bogsoil hollered after him.

“You stiiiiiiiink!” cried Young Jimmy Apples, still descending far below. How deep did this shaft go?

“He is objectively correct,” added Y-971, sidling down beside me. “The Druid still carries the scent of the peat in which she was encased for so long.”

Cool, heavily oxygenated air wafted up from below us. A quick estimation of the flow indicated the size of this vegan catacombs must be enormous.

“I’ll make a point to stay upwind.”

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaah!!!!!” Young Jimmy Apples’ scream was faint but audible.

“Ní fearr an buachaill sin a bheith ag imirt ceann dá cleasanna arís,” grumbled Fecund Bogsoil as she whisked past me down her rope.

I almost threw up in my mouth from the stench.


Crunchy Crafts
7/14/2019 3:52pm


Upon arrival at the temperamental and untidy @Herbert Albert's Bunny House, chaos reigned. Pringles containers half empty and smashed, cans of Monster, Bang, and Fang strewn around the entrance. The Bunny House itself loomed like a great green cabbagey chapel, roughly three meters in height, its sturdy ribbed outer walls coming together to form the folds of a frilly, slightly parted entrance, much like a tent or canopied bed. Though more taunt. And made of vegetable matter.

My team consists of The Dream Team, so named because they first met each other in their dreams, and endured tests and quests to finally come together here at Psyhigh. They are: Y-971, genetically enhanced and modified bio-form; Young Jimmy Apples, immortal child; and Fecund Bogsoil, recently unearthed druid priestess.

We apportioned ourselves well at the Student Market beforehand. Sensitive Calabari ropes, which become responsive upon repeated handling; Neverlasting Goglobes, attached to our epaulets by incredibly thin invisible wire; various handclaws, footspikes, and clingons based on designs illegal in this sector. Plus a delectable assortment of jams, scones, and bottled psychoactive teas.

I leave this record at the entrance as insurance that, in the event of our disappearance, there will be at least the beginning of trail of clues as to our fate.