Potato Knishes

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The square shaped sun rose in the east as it did every morning. A field of thousands of potatoes grew proudly underground, not a single Red Gem Beetle snacking upon their leaves. The door to the Centipede stalls opened with a creek. Emerged was a Big Wooden Tumble Blade which scooped up the potatoes one by one. Eventually it had acquired enough potatoes and re-entered the auburn stall. Inside the Tumble Blade dropped each potato into the heated furnace. Emerged through a complex piping system were the most perfect Potato Knishes. From the comforting dark recesses of pipes emerged the face of the Rat King.

His neck stretched silently to get a better view. He knew he wasn't allowed in the stalls, but the owner of this marvelous factory would not awake for another three hours. This was the perfect time to marvel at the miracle which took place before him." They're perfect. Each Knish is absolutely perfect." the rubbery, somewhat sweaty Rat King admitted. He spent many days overlooking the process, and searched for any flaw, but as of late he could find none. "Just absolutely perfect..." The Rat King wiped his sweat from his brow, and allowed a few drops to land on each Knish as it passed him by. "Now part of me is within each. I am so proud to be part of this."

His daily morning routine was not near complete. He still had to overlook the Little Black Squash Ball maker. And the Centipedes... oh man those were his favorite. How he turned giddy as he watched thousands of little black worms become transformed almost effortlessly into Centipedes. Although being a Centipede was good enough, the Rat King knew he must bestow upon each a tender kiss, as if he christened them into their new flawless existence. Truly superior to their previous form, being a Centipede must have been nothing short of heavenly. For three hours the Rat King rubbed and whispered his admiration to the non-judging efficient machines. He knew that he would soon be caught by the owner, and flogged like he usually was, but that didn't matter to him. He would endure all the pain and punishment if only to see one more Potato Knish be formed. There truly is no better life than that of a Centipede...

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