As a cohort, we have agreed to take one narrative on a journey through various styles. Today, the Cucumber saga continues as we delve into the world of live Slack performance. The following is a transcript from a guerrilla poetry experience that was neither asked for, expected, appreciated, admired or enjoyed.

A studious group of Boaters were lambasted with an unequaled lyrical prowess that dragged the journey of our fabled Cucumber further into the darkness.

Chip & Duncan will now guide you through the early middle age of our protagonist in the style of gin-soaked slack poetry. Enjoy.

7:39 PM Chip We could post the lyrics of a muse tune?

7:41 PM Chip Is that the cucumber from Down Under?

7:45 PM Chip Aye! A Pirate Cucumber he be!

7:58 PM Chip A fish hook for a hand and a peg for a leg

8:20 PM Chip But that was only the beginning of his addictions

8:21 PM Chip There was cough syrup at first

8:28 PM Chip Bags of glue, huffed

8:31 PM Chip Shoe polish polished

8:37 PM Chip  Cans of lynx africa through jumper sleeves inhaled

8:46 PM Chip He rejoiced in the squelch of outdated venison

8:48 PM Chip His birth certificate he found and burned

8:57 PM Chip “You’re half the cucumber you used to be,” she said as he once again lost his composure.

8:59 PM Chip There’s only one thing for this he thought, suddenly overcome with phantasmagoria

9:02 PM Chip A sea of petals in shades of purple

9:04 PM Chip He often looked at things and said aloud “Nice and purple.”

9:11 PM Chip Their names, Irvin, Ivan, Irvine, Evan, Eavan, Ivine, Eavane, Iaeavineane and Purple.

9:34 PM Chip He had a clear favourite, named after his childhood dog, his eldest son, Purple.