Adventures of a Rotting Celeriac

As a good healthy stu­dent I purcha­sed myself a roun­ded, tasty and nutri­tious Cele­riac from Tesco (for those not in the know, this is the base of Celery, the thing we use to do all those kiddy dye expe­ri­ments). In my halls of resi­dence I have a three shelf cup­board and place fresh veg’ on the top and in the middle. These shel­ves are above my level of sight. Follo­wing a week or so I bought some onions, pasta, veg’ etc. which began to obs­cure the tur­nip like vege­ta­ble from view. Come today and I reached to the back to fetch one of the onions nee­ded to make a Con Carne mix, alas it loo­ked wet and a little rot­ten on one side. No worries, I shall get another onion — this too, des­pite being fresher, sho­wed the same symp­toms. Upon clo­ser ins­pec­tion I now noti­ced a yellowy cele­riac smegma cove­ring the base of the shelf and drip­ping down to the lower levels. This brown, gooey yuck ree­ked of a celery that had tra­ve­led the world of Hades and retur­ned via the slums of vege­ta­ble pur­ga­tory, where all the unwan­ted Brus­sel Sprouts are tormented. 

Now I grew dis­tres­sed — this see­ping atro­city had infil­tra­ted my pasta reser­ves, the pars­nips, the onions, the malt loaf, the apples, the pota­toes and most impor­tantly the dry nood­les. These nood­les now esca­ped their pac­ka­ging; as liquid brought them to life they spla­yed across the bot­tom shelf as if worms esca­ping an apo­calypse. It was at this point I redis­co­ve­red my gag reflex. The offen­ding Cele­riac itself, ins­tead of being a firm and solid sphe­ri­cal object more clo­sely resem­bled a spongy and dis­gus­ting sea crea­ture of the nether world. 

It is beyond me how it could have reached that con­di­tion, now that everything has been remo­ved it all stinks to a point that is unbea­ra­ble. Yet I had been hap­pily using the cup­board for many days before without noti­cing the sligh­test of pro­blems. Maybe those onions were absor­bing the smell, who knows. Any­way, I must dash as I am to play Scattergories. 

May the horrors of the Cele­riac be now known to you. Have a plea­sant evening.