“No! Please!” cried the elderly motorist from within the guillotine.

“You said you wanted fresh tomatoes,” said the roadside vendor. “The sign was very clear: fresh tomatoes a head. One head for one bushel of tomatoes.”

“I thought it was just a misspelling!” the motorist said.

“It’s not my fault that you didn’t read the terms of the legally binding contract you entered into upon accepting my tomatoes,” replied the vendor.

“The license is at the bottom of the basket! How could I have read it before I had the basket?”

“That’s a matter for the courts, I’m afraid.” The roadside tomato-seller yanked the cord and sent the blade on its way.

He gave the bushel of tomatoes to the motorist’s headless body, which accepted them gratefully and toddled back to the car before driving erratically off down the highway. As for the head, he threw it with the others in the back of his pickup truck…the Creature was hungry, after all.

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