APPLE

I’m an apple. Yep life is pretty sweet for this plump, juicy green hide of mine. You may think being an apple is easy but I can tell you it’s not! Okay we apples might not have the same “problems” as say you humans, but we still have them! Yeah, you worry about making enough money to pay for your toys and those fancy skins you all have. But do you have to think about if you will find yourself stem deep in a mixing bowl staring a beater in it’s grinding little teeth, trying to make you into an apple sauce. The feeling of a sharp pain of the cold steel of a knife, slicing and dicing through your tiny defenseless body, just so they can back you in a warm holiday pie, served with a side of vanilla ice cream to wide-eyed, slobbering dirty pawed monsters. So things seem a bit trivial now don’t they! I sit here among a pile of my closest friends and family. It is sort of a monarchy of this produce section. The bigger and juicier apples sit on the top, boy are they the dumb one’s! Myself, I tend to borrow towards the bottom; makes it harder for those frightful creatures to find me. You know the type; the ones who waddle through the isle. Wide rounded hips just squeaking past the cereal box’s as a box of Apple Jacks shiver with her passing. Pink rollers in a greasy tangle nest of matted hair. A loose white cloth drapes her stout pear shaped body. Ten chubby digits reaching, clawing at me. So I sit here among the smaller bruised and discarded apples, the bottom of the barrel. We talk about the weather, local gossip and amount of water we got this morning. That tall slender fellow really does seem very regal in his green apron. He takes very good care of us. Every morning, as the first rays creeps through the front windows and bounces off the “2 for a dollar” sign, he walks by. A small gleam and sparkle, like that of a fresh rain drop on the smooth silky leave of an apple blossom, in his icy blue eyes.