A Story About A Cabbage Butt

It was meant to be a story about a cabbage borscht, but the auto spelling had decided that this would be a better title.

If I'm really honest, I don't really know what a cabbage borscht is. I could look to the heavens to find out what it is. Last time I did that, I was told to “put it in Google.”

“How do I do that?” I cried.

“You need to go online.”

“What do you mean?” I cried, again. I'm doing a lot of crying.

“You need to go on The Web.”

“Like a spider?” I asked.

“No, willy.”

“Willy? Why did you call me willy?”

“I meant to call you silly. It was the auto spell.”

“Why am I silly?” I cried.

“Because you don't have a Scooby Doo.”

“What are you talking about? What do you mean?"

“You haven't got a clue.”

“A clue about what?” I asked.

“Anything.”

“What is a cabbage borscht?” I asked, again.

“Put it in Google.”

“Is there any other way I can find out?” I asked.

“Of course. There's always alternatives.”

“Fantastic,” I said. “I would really love to know. How else can I find out what a cabbage borscht is?”

“Put it in Bing!”

“What is Bing?” I asked.

“Why don't you ask Google?”

Thank you for reaching.....

...... I meant reading (auto spell).

Task by @mariannewest

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