:smack:
Yeah…so…forget that last one. This is what I get for trying to think and communicate prior to 8am on a Saturday.
“Run lads, it’s the copse!” 
I would like to cross the Parrot with the Carrot. They’re very much alike, so it should be easy.
I’m partial to vegetables, particulary broccoli, cauliflower and asparagus. My planimals would be:
Broccodile: Crocodile body + head of buttered broccoli
Caulischnauzer: Schnauzer body + head of buttered cauliflower
Asp-aragus: Body of snake + head of buttered asparagus
In each case they would come on demand, let me bite their heads off, and then grow another head.
I would also like to bite the ears off of corn dogs.
Isn’t that what those spiders do when they bite the heads off their mates?
It would be interesting to see a cross between Heracleum mantegazzianum (giant hogweed) and Katie Couric. In that event I would be willing to tune in to the CBS evening news.
In fact, it might even be mandatory. :eek:
Yes, especially if they dropped ribeye steacorns.
Then there’s the Boxed Lunch/Lunchpail Tree from the Wizard of Oz books…
True, it doesn’t seem especially animal-like, but I think the lunches had either eggs (hard-boiled!) or honey in them.
Cows and Potatos. Cowtatos. It would be like a burger and fries in every bite. Then all I’d need is some ketchup.
What about the lemonlope ?
More wacky fruit/animal combinations here . (Some of the content on that site is NSFW in a fantasy art sort of way… dig around at your own risk).
You know what would be scary? A vampire tree.
You could only kill it by driving a steak through its heart.
or having the bulltato charge it.
How about a marsupial crossed with flour and olive oil: yes, that’s right, a Kangaroux
And what about a Dromedary Date?
How about a nice, tasty Carob Beetle?
For a plant mix, I’d suggest Raisin Cane.
An exotic combo would be Maniyak.
And of course Auberigine for the Aussies.
No thanks, I’ve been on one of those before. :smack:
A duck and spuds??
A Ducktator
Coming next March from Wholecloth press:
*"Not to take root; that is the law....
Not to photosynthesize; that is the law....
Not to fix carbon; that is the law....
Not to exhibit tropism; that is the law....
---Are we not men?"*
THE ISLAND OF DOCTOR MOREAU’S FRESHMAN LAB PARTNER.
Excerpt from Chapter XV: The Vegesectionist Explains:
“Now, my dear Endprick–” began my host, but I interrupted him: “Excuse me, but my name is Prendick.” “Is it really?” said the scientist. “Sorry, but it’s an easy mistake to make, you’re such an annoying little drip. Anyway, my dear Prendick, late of the Lady Vine, you realize now that what you’ve seen here is not the debasement of man to a vegetable state, but rather the exaltation of plants, that they may aspire to humanity. The surgeon’s art is equal to this and more. But this is hardly unknown in the outside world: it is referenced in Victor Hugo’s ‘L’ Pomme qui Rit,’ among other works.”
“Such power must necessarily corrupt,” I accused.
“Well, obviously there’s a little graft here and there,” retorted the Doctor. “But I’ve also made it my mission to educate and train my creations as well. Most of us have experience working with pea-brains, especially if we’ve ever worked in customer service. I find my methods effective with most other species as well.”
“And if the training does not hold – if they revert to their natural state?” I asked insistently. The scientist’s eyes flashed in anger as he replied. “The training does hold! In … almost all cases. And if it does not, I still can protect myself, protect the community. For extreme examples,” he said, indicating the mechanical monster in the corner, “there is always the Juicer.”
“You aspire to become God!” I cried, emoting excessively.
“I do not! I would strive for a world in which all we living creatures under God are equal!” replied my benefactor. “We live in a society in which murdering a man is condemned, but weeding your garden is applauded! Prostitution is illegal, but the Pastor’s wife is admired for engaging in a little hoeing now and then! If I have my way, the petty distinctions barring plants from the protections of society will be erased. There will be no such thing as ‘homicide,’ no such thing as ‘herbicide,’ there will just be plain ‘cide.’ Or, occasionally, cider.”
Hmmm, guess you’d need my tomanto, hoardes of tiny tomatoes walk towards your picnic and wait to be squished over your food.
I actually had a go at splicing pig genes into a hickory tree, in the hopes of raising some nice vegetable-based ready-smoked rashers of breakfasty goodness. Unfortunately my “bacon tree” proved to be a rather stunted specimen, and, which was worse, showed no signs of bearing bacon.
And then, as I was on my way back from the potting shed, it leapt out of the “herbivorous” border and attacked me. :eek: It’s only the pruning shears that let me escape.
It seems that what I’d grown was not a “bacon tree” at all…
it was a “hambush”.
You should have built a greenhouse and grown the more difficult, but much more docile, porchids. Stay away from the cattleyas, though – they’re pure beef.
(Good Lord, “Run, lads, it’s the copse,” I swear the man deserves more punishment than I can give out).
I bow to your superior terminology. 