Concerning Apples and Knives It started with a fairly simple problem with a simple solution. The apples Mom got from Publix are kept out on the counter, not in the fridge where they might last longer than a week at optimal freshness. After a neglectful few days of squatting in the humid Florida kitchen, an apple starts getting bed sores. The once crisp crunch of fresh doctor repellent becomes a yellow clumpy shadow of its former self, with huge brown bruises of “why didn't I eat ice cream instead.” If a teenage girl who, by self-proclamation desires to fain the act of dieting for the afternoon, finds only sacrificial, virgin fruit that the gods have forsaken so long as to meet them now in the throws of menopause, then she is going to be pretty pissed off! Or a bit miffed, at least.Concerning Apples and Knives by ~plucky-ducky
“Now how in the heckie am I supposed to eat a good lunch if all my fruit starts going bad before I even eat it?” Lips pursed and
a story brook might tellMy father was a good man. He was good and steady and brave. He deserved better than what he got, and now he's dead, so don’t talk bad about him.a story brook might tell by ~plucky-ducky
If you'd asked me on the street, that’s all you would get outa me, that would be all there was to the story. Good-bye stranger.
But your not just some stranger, are you? Or do you at least know that there has to be more story than that. Pop used to go to all these exotic places and do all kinds of crazy heart pounding stuff. Ask him, “Hey Pop, tell me about the time you went to Xenna. What was it like? What did you do there?” and he'd tell you in little nitpicked sentences about the soil or the rainfall or some inedible fungus he sampled.
“Well, it rained nearly everyday at noon, and the caves there did not go deep under ground, so I worked in the damp and dark every day.”
“But what kind of work did you do?”
“I cataloged plants and minerals, took pictures and samples until I was call