You there, chewing on that fruit - please look close and vouchsafe me that it is no pomegranate!
You there, stranger, approaching me around the street corner - what shocking pomegranates lie up your sleeve?
Hey, Mr Television Network Executive - can you procure me a 30-second primetime PSA, so that I can implore the nation of my pomegranatory peril?!
Hello, Father Churchly, my priest and confessor- I must tell you of the loathing in my heart for all pomegranate farmers in Louisiana and elsewhere.
Dear Dr. Shrinkbrain, show me to your chesterfield - I have nightly dreams of pomegranates; can you unlock their Jungian portents?
Good morning fine reader, good soul, smiling audience member - yes, you happy online pig. As you can tell I have serious issues with pomegranates. It all started when I was mere boy of 26 and a pomegranate fell high from a fruit crate landing upon my head. Juice erupted all over my neck, shoulders and clavicle, or collarbone. I thought it was blood, not pomegranate juice, and I fainted. I awoke minutes later to the hysterical taunts of my coworkers in the produce department. They nicknamed me 'frightful of pomegranates', 'pomegranate girly' and 'he who mistakes juice for blood.' And so they continued their snickery unabated; quickly I was to be doomed by their mocksome epithets. The pomegranate affair continued well into the morning, and by 11:30 I was forced to tender my resignation. That was the first time.
(more to come?)
1 comment:
oh. i thought it was a bloody bird turd...
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