TLI-Inferno, the Tater Caterer


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I wrote the first part yesterday afternoon, then this morning I decided to write another. For context, my villages have names like Tatertopolis, Gladitater, Yamsterdam, Potatortoise, Fort Spud, Yamgang, San Potato, and many more. I started world 120 late, but I'll be starting 121 right on time.

For non-native english speakers, Tuber, Tater, Yam, Spud, and Murphy, are all names for potatoes. (My picture, I can't seem to show.

You gaze upon the Tater Caterer, able to
Stack villages faster than flapjacks and pay-per-view cable fees.
If you ain't a root vegetable than you ain't related,
You ain't ready, there's no way that your army can make its way home soon, and
When I'm done with you nobody will say your name again.
Recall your troops, your order's belated,
you're too late to confront the yams who invaded.

You think you can fight then you frontin',
Up against the Spud Muffin,
Like your temp you be runnin'
Cuzz you sick of the Tuber Colossus,
Best peruse your losses, you oughta get off this.
Your Barracks train archers after I shredded your offense.
Don't even try to defend, I had enough of your nonsense.
The Murphy Monstrosity's on your turf, and no worse has been brought since.

Don't be a Tater Hater,
Prejudice against residents of the ground who provide contenment, and unabashadly.
Evidently you think this crowd of rowdy rooties deserves wide resentment, it's been established,
You see potatoes as way lower than radishes.
You better call a pay phone for a taxi, get
Outta our ground or we'll pound you to next flax season.

You like taters or leave cuzz you got issues.
My yams ain't come from no cans so they're not misused.
My words cautorize your thought tissues,
If you want more, then the waiter'll be right with you.

I don't cook food here, I serve myself out raw,
Uncut, a tuber that's too big for your jaw,
Fry your mind until your eyes are try'na get outta your skull,
To escape the rhymes and the size of the taters you just saw.

You're lookin' at the number one supporter of allies,
Deporter of poor men whose forces have never joined rallies.
Exporter of spears, swords, archers 'n cavalries,
You're for the alliance or you can hoard your own casualties.

You heard the tater rhythm 'n now you beckon for more,
You're right on time now sit and listen, I just got back from the store,
I got a bag of potatoes, don't know exactly what for,
But they were glistening with purpose, on sale for half of the cost.

While I was shopping somebody sent out an attack at my home,
They thought my village could be captured, while I was gone.
I'm not offendeded, I am defended, it's just a fact of the course,
But now I have a brand new use for all the taters I bought,
I tacked em onto a vest, now they're attached at the core.

I wear my spudded leather armor, head out to check the reports,
Inspect the state of defense, there's not a crack in the wall,
Bring your army 'round here, 'n you gon' get whacked in the balls,
I prepared well, you came to hell, sir would you fancy a tour?

I got shelves of elder recipes, left o'er from back from before,
To cook with flesh of the person, that's right, a man is longpork.
I'll make a stew of your blood, take taters out the sack for the course.
Add in the stew, your eyes, ears 'n tongue should you lack a response.
Then raise a chamber to smoke, and put a rack on the coals,
A set up I made to roast the ribs on the back that is yours.

My base attracted your army, and you contracted a loss,
If you ain't got nothin' for me I'm gonna sack your own fort,
Your barracks better be empty, warehouse be packed full of ore,
If you ain't got wood 'n clay then I'm comin' back to get more.
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