The townspeople say I'm mad, but I'm not really crazy. Just scared. That day haunts my dreams, leaving me housebound; afraid to go outside. When I look out the window, my day mares begin.
It all started when I invited the towns folks to see my lovely garden. One of them screamed, saying, "It's got his leg." Then they all screamed and ran away, leaving me wondering why my ankle was aching. I looked down and a vine had wrapped around my foot and began constricting my ankle. Quickly I pulled my machete from my jeans pocket and hacked it away, but there was still vine on my leg. I ran inside and started pulling it off my leg and at the same time it grew cucumbers. Finally, I got it off and slung it out the back door.
Winter's on now. Snow covers the ground, yet they grow.
Vine vine vine I thought all I could think of vas vine. I vas grateful for my German heritage and my love of the juice from squeezed grapes that had been allowed to sit for awhile. I thought if vine could be made from grapes, blackberries, watermelon and even garlic vhy couldn't vine be also made from cukes and cuke vines? If I made this vine who vould want it? Probably no one unless that I lied and said that cukevine vine vas goot for taking varts off of your hands, giving women long lustrous hair and kept men from coming down vith dicedious gruntitus how long before the cucumbers and it's vines would be gone?
I am a good lier and so made the vine and spread my lies. To make my lies vork i vhispered my vords about the vine every vhere I vent. I vas unprepared for vhat happened but that that vas OK though. All of the cucumbers, all of the vines, all of the snow and all of my best top soil was gone vhich vas all right since I gained so much vealth from the venture that life has become vunderful for me, so vunderful, Vould anyone like some cucumbervine vine on me?
Finish the attack of the cucumber story. You can re-word what I wrote or use your own words, but stick to the theme.