Ey up! It's A I

When you pick up a piece of ginger at the grocers which looks this much like a horse, you have to blip it.  A nice online (copyright free) photo of the Wild West for a backdrop and Bob's your uncle.  I thought of trying to do some witty commentary but my mind went back to a conversation I had yesterday with our decorator when he asked if I'd tried any of the AI tools online.  I hadn't, but it sounded interesting.  So I had a look.

Google have one called 'Bard'; I typed in "Write a short but amusing story about a piece of ginger that looks like a horse in the American wild west".  In about two seconds it gave me three texts; I've added the best one below.  Amazing stuff, but just a little bit scary?  You decide.

Thanks for the hearts yesterday, by the way!

Barnaby wasn't your average root. He wasn't content to loll around in the crisper drawer, dreaming of stir fries and ginger snaps. No, Barnaby yearned for adventure, for the wind in his... well, non-existent mane, for the thrill of the open range.
One fateful day, a rogue tumbleweed (think tumbleweed tornado) swept through the supermarket, scattering vegetables like tumbleweed poker chips. Barnaby, propelled by a gust of destiny, landed with a plop in the middle of the Wild West section, nestled amongst cactus-shaped candles and dusty cowboy hats.
He was a sight to behold. Knobbled and knobbly, with knobbly bits sticking out like ears and a knobbly extension that could almost be mistaken for a tail, Barnaby was the spitting image of a miniature Palomino pony. His knobby mane even seemed to be windswept in an imaginary gallop.
The cowboys, rough and tumble as tumbleweeds themselves, did a double take. "Is that... a ginger pony?" one drawled, squinting at Barnaby through the brim of his Stetson.
"Nope, pardner," another chuckled, "just the fanciest rootin' tootin' ginger I ever seen."
But Barnaby wasn't just a pretty root. He was a natural-born gambler. He challenged the cowboys to a game of "High Noon Spice-Off," a fiery test of heat tolerance involving habaneros, ghost peppers, and a dash of wasabi for good measure.
The cowboys, mouths watering and eyes watering harder, dropped like dominoes after a single bite of Barnaby's fiery flesh. He, on the other hand, remained stoic, his knobbly body radiating a warm, spicy glow.
Impressed by Barnaby's grit, the cowboys adopted him as their mascot, the luckiest charm this side of the Rio Grande. He rode on their shoulders, his knobby mane flapping in the wind, and brought them victory in every poker game and cattle drive. He even earned the nickname "Spicy Spud," a name that fit him like a well-worn Stetson.
Life was good for Barnaby. He had adventure, he had friends, and he had the satisfaction of knowing he was the hottest darn root in the whole Wild West. He may have been born in the crisper drawer, but he found his true calling in the saddle, proving that even a little ginger can have a big adventure.
So, the next time you're at the supermarket, don't just toss your ginger in the stir-fry mix. Give it a good look. You never know, you might just find yourself face-to-face with the fieriest little cowboy you've ever seen.