the inspector in a black suit & shades strode down the field, head turning here & there @ what seemed to be a valley barren o’ all but naked black trees while the property owner watched her curiously, shivering & trying to ignore the way the loose sleeves o’ his dress shirt flapped in the cold november wind.
then the inspector stopped with brows raised, hurried forward a few steps, & then bent down & pinched the ground. she rose back to her feet, pulling with her a long stringlike root. halfway up the root stopped & would not go up any mo’, so the inspector began to use greater & greater force till, finally, she was able to pull it out, yanking out with it deformed lump, sickly white with green splotches.
the inspector walked up to the property owner, hanging the lump in front o’ her, swinging left & right like the pendulum o’ a clock.
this is the cause for this field’s ailments. this is the tuber tumor.