Gromit, sipping his tea, raised a skeptical eyebrow. The machine looked like a drunken octopus made of plumbing. But ever the loyal companion, he strapped on his leather gardening gloves. That night, Gromit was woken by a strange thrumming sound. He peered through the window. The vegetable patch was… moving. Archibald the Marrow had doubled in size, now the bulk of a small car. But that wasn’t the problem. The runner beans had grown into thick, woody tendrils that were coiling around the fence like pythons. A rogue cauliflower had turned a sickly purple and was pulsing .
Within seconds, the garden was just a garden again. The only evidence of the battle was a few broken fence posts, a very confused cauliflower, and a small, ordinary potato sitting on the lawn. Wallace stood in the wreckage, his dressing gown torn, a leek leaf stuck in his hair. He looked at Gromit. Gromit looked at him. Then they both looked at Archibald the Marrow, which had returned to its normal, non-threatening size.
Gromit dropped his teacup. By dawn, the garden was no longer a garden. It was a jungle. And the vegetables were no longer plants—they were soldiers. Wallace y Gromit - La batalla de los vegetales ...
“Brilliant, Gromit! Load the mushy peas!”
The Horti-Matic 3000 was still running, belching out the Super-Gro formula. But if they reversed the polarity… Gromit, sipping his tea, raised a skeptical eyebrow
Wallace grabbed a half-eaten wedge of from his pocket. The most potent, pongy, blue-veined cheese in all of Lancashire.
The machine roared. A cloud of pungent, cheesy gas exploded across the garden. The vegetables recoiled. The Brussels sprouts shriveled. The leeks wilted. The King Potato let out a terrible, high-pitched squeak as he deflated back into a normal, lumpy spud. That night, Gromit was woken by a strange thrumming sound
The battle raged across the garden. Wallace swung a baguette like a club, parrying leek thrusts. Gromit, wearing a colander as a helmet, rode his motorcycle sidecar through a squadron of angry onions, making them weep (which, admittedly, gave him the tactical advantage).