Original, non-AI-enhanced text: Never a Dull Moment at Arbor Ring Farm, Part 2
Joy and her fellow potatoes were agog with disbelief. Hundreds of fresh-faced young spuds were gallivanting about, free of their skin and utterly heedless of the impact their youthful exuberance was having on the farm’s bottom line.
Self-styled poletons, this new crop of Arbor Ring’s potatoes had taken the unconventional ways and outré fashions of the local skeleton subculture to the extreme, eschewing their skins and mutilating their flesh in a brazen attempt to resemble skeletons. Their appearance was so outlandish and unappetizing that the farm would be hard-pressed to sell them, cooked or fried, to pig farms, let alone to area food pantries in their unprocessed state.
In the barn, behind a bale of hay, Joy discovered an industrial-scale potato rumbler—a fearsome piece of equipment that had long been banned in the county—surrounded by scores of empty syringes used for iodine injection. Though she was not one to lay blame on others, she could not help but harbor suspicions.
Mr. Funny Bones 