An Apple's Point of View - 5/3

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Re: An Apple's Point of View - 5/3

Postby .K.Kerns » Sat May 07, 2011 11:21 am

After The Baby

“Yes, yes, yes!” she squeals in her sickening, high pitched baby talk voice, “You are just the sweetest little apple of momma’s eye. You are suuuuucha itty bitty sweety pie, sweety pie, apple, apple of my eye.”

“OH how I wish she’d stop saying that, singing that over and over. . . and over. I remember when I was the apple of her eye. She couldn’t keep her lovely hands off me. There was always a basket full of Me perched hiiiiigh on the counter top, right on that corner where she passes so she could grab me on her way out the door. She’d toss me up in the air and catch me with her other hand.

Nowadays if she even notices me at all it’s just to hurriedly apple-nab me and stuff me down into that horrible diaper bag with all those gooey, icky, smelly baby. . . things.

Oh how I miss her hands, so soft and tender and . . . and I’d give almost anything to feel the wind upon my face once more but here I lay trapped at the bottom of this stuffy old bag.

Just as I’m about to give up all hope and suffocate I feel her slender fingers reaching around my rotund little tummy and cradling me tightly she pulls me through all the mish mash and I burst through the darkness into the light of day, at last!

As I enjoy the bright sunshine and the feel of the wind I know she is enjoying Me. And just as I settle into the moment I disappear once more sliding downward through a warm, dark tunnel. Is that a seed I feel brush past? Well, you, seed, will make it out of here all in one piece but I won’t (sigh). Life bites.

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RE: An Apple's Point of View - 5/3

Postby tammybellevre » Sun May 08, 2011 4:39 am

Humph.  I'd really like to know how this happened.  Three days ago I was hangin' around, minding my own business when - BAM - a giant sweaty thing with five spikes coming out of it grabs me and rudely drops me in a basket!!!  Then they shove the basket of me and my relatives in a noisy thing that moves and the next thing we know we are on display with more wierd spiky things touching us.  I finalkly end up here in this smaller basket with a bunch of yellow tubes, ornage balls and little red globe like things with a branch sticking out of their heads.  I wonder what we are all here for?  Hey there is one of those spike....hey, wait...oh no...where are they taking me now??  I think..I, I, what are those white things?  Getting a closer look and............noooooo!!!!!!!!

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Re: An Apple's Point of View - 5/3

Postby SoulKitten » Sun May 08, 2011 6:21 am

Hi. I'm Alicia Apple. I can't figure out for the life of me why I am so tired. It's not like I go anywhere. I've been contained in this bowl that sits on a greyish countertop for over three days now. I mean, just what exactly are these people up to? Why am I here? I was fine inside of that huge bright cool building where humans walk up and down the aisles filling their carts with other strange edible items that are beyond my species.
I'm just tired. Tired of the light in this room constantly being flicked on and off. Everytime the icebox on the other end of the room is opened, I feel a cool draft. The red of me gets chilly every time. I'm tired of the little humans running in and out asking for water. I mean, I would imagine that red is more intriguing to the human eye than clear. Why won't they try me? Why won't they pack me in a school lunch and take me on a educational rollercoaster? Juggle me. Play "hot potato" with me. Strip me of my scarlet and enjoy my flesh...although that sounds painful but I DON'T CARE! I just want out of here. Otis Orange just will not take "no" for an answer, and why does he have to be so rough? Jeez! If I sneeze one more time from Pamela Peach's fuzz, I'll die. I worry about Paul Pear because he's too quiet. The only thing I've heard him say was his name, and that was three days ago. Poor Barbara Banana. She let her yellow skin get to her head, until her entire body broke out in dark brown hives. I don't think a man or a human wants her so she's stressed and depressed.
I just want my family back. I want my atmosphere, my dignity and my respect. is that too much to ask?

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RE: An Apple's Point of View - 5/3

Postby honee841 » Sun May 08, 2011 7:20 pm

It’s been several hours…when will someone in this family choose me? I’m a Gala Apple, I’m red and yellow, juicy and perfect for consuming right now. The light from the kitchen window is now covering my sweet skin like a blanket; if it gets much warmer in this basket, I’ll soon become applesauce.

A tween-age girl comes into the kitchen; she glances at the basket sitting on the counter. “Mom!” she yells down the hall, “when did you buy these apples in the basket?” A muffled voice straining to answer, yells, “last night, from the fruit stand.” The young girl takes the plumpest, shiniest apple into her hand. She feels the warmth of the apple in her preteen hand and with the other hand she searches the kitchen drawers. “Mom!” the young girl yells again, “where’s the apple cutter?” She listens attentively to hear her mother’s answer. Instead of an answer, she flicks her eyes over to the ring tone coming from her cell phone on the counter. She sees the name, “Jenny” appear in the display window. The apple is quickly tossed back into the basket as she picks up the phone. “Hi Jen…” her voice descends down the hall.

The sunlight has moved higher, it’s now warming the bananas hanging over Gala and her friends. Two young men walk by; the taller one picks up the Gala apple sitting on top. He turns on the faucet and lets the cool water rinse and clean the soft apple skin. “Are you ready to go down to the park,” he says to the other young man, “what are you doing?” says the shorter of the two. “Eating an apple, what does it look like?” he answers sarcastically. “Well, put it down, we have to run. We have a game in 10 minutes,” he orders. The tall one puts the apple back, grabs his baseball cap and the two sprint out the back door, obviously late for an appointment.

The apples sit in the basket on the counter the rest of the afternoon, waiting for their fates to be realized. Soon the light in the room starts to dim, the air is cooler and the sounds of the neighborhood coming from the open window are serene compared to the morning’s rushed, chaotic noise. Just as Gala is getting comfortable, she hears the jangle of keys. The door opens and in steps an older gentleman in uniform. He picks up the Gala apple and places it on a red cutting board, he reaches for a knife, Gala emits a sweet, pungent aroma. The man catches a whiff and knows he’s in for a sweet treat. He positions the apple and the knife over the luscious fruit when he spies something on the counter. Upon observation, the man recognizes the wrapper as being his favorite chocolate bar. He puts down the knife; places the Gala on top of the apple bunch and in one smooth swipe, picks up the chocolate bar as he methodically tears off the wrapper and happily glides out of the room.

It’s every apple’s hope to be consumed at the height of ripeness, in 24 hours Gala will start to soften and not be as sweet as this very moment. How can Gala tempt a passerby to taste her fructose charms? A child’s cries are heard throughout the house. A woman talking on the phone walks into the kitchen. “…BRAT diet? So that’s, bananas, rice applesauce and toast? Yes doctor, her temperature is 101 degrees…” The woman holds the phone between her ear and shoulder and with an apple cutter in one hand and holding Gala upright with the other, she presses the round tool to the top of Gala and…

Gala to the rescue!

Robin A
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RE: An Apple's Point of View - 5/3

Postby Robin A » Mon May 09, 2011 4:31 am

God, it's hot in this basket. I'm surrounded by a mushy banana, a hard orange, and what feels like a hairy rock. I can't be sure because it's underneath me. All I can feel are its hairy little tentacles reaching out to tickly my underside. I'll rot soon if I don't get out of this basket, I know I will. The young one almost grabbed me this morning on his way out of the kitchen, but he choose some cookies instead. I can't say I blame him. The tiny fruit flies hovering over my temporary home probably would have deterred me as well.

I hear footsteps. It's the tall, blonde one. She's the one who placed me in this cramped torture chamber. Maybe she'll free me. Maybe she's hungry. She's looking in my direction. I feel the hairs underneath me move, but I try to remain calm. She's coming, she's coming. She picks up the basket and moves us to another spot on the counter. Suddenly, she picks up the banana and tosses it into a big white box. I hear a thud as he hits the bottom, he's gone. I'm tossed aside as she reaches for the hairy rock, thud. She continues fumbling through the basket, thud, thud, thud. I'm scared to death; this is it.

She reaches for me and it feels like the color of my skin just changed from bright red to pink. She begins walking toward the box but changes direction and heads to the sink instead. She starts washing me under the cool water and I feel elated. As she's drying me off, I begin to let my juices flow. I want to be ready, want her to enjoy me; the chosen one.

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RE: An Apple's Point of View - 5/3

Postby DominaPatti » Mon May 09, 2011 4:36 am

Apple of Discord

From my perch in the shallow fruit basket, I had a front row seat to the quarrel. The three sisters Despina, Alima, and Desirae, stood around the small island countertop in the kitchen of their apartment screaming at each other as to who should eat me.

“It’s mine.” The youngest, Desirae, animatedly argued her curls bouncing with her movement.

“I saw it first.” Alima asserted, pushing her glasses firmly back on her nose. “Besides, it’s great brain food. “Desirae it obviously wouldn’t do you much good.” She motioned to her sister’s revealing clothes.

Desirae started to argue but was interrupted by the third sister “I am the eldest; therefore, the honor should go to me.”

“That just means you’re closest to the grave Despina.” Alima retorted.

Despina huffed, and the bickering continued. I never felt as loved as I did in that moment; the only problem was that I knew that it wasn’t because of the natural glow of goodness and health that exuded from my brilliant red skin. Like the goddesses Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite, the sisters were the victims of discord.

Not the Discord or Eris as she is commonly known, but a mischievous spell channeling the malevolent spirit of Eris. I knew this dispute could only end in war.

The door bell rang, and the three stopped arguing long enough to yell in unison “Come in.” before continuing their squabble. In stepped the handsome beau. If he had been wiser and perhaps less of a brute, he would have exited as soon as he assessed the situation. But, he wasn’t.

Within seconds of entering the kitchen, the ladies surrounded him.

“Eric, because I’m the prettiest, don’t you think that I should have the apple?”


Agitated she be spared a wave my way.

“I need it to study.”

“But I’m the eldest.”

“Who should have the apple?” They shouted at him. In confusion, he looked from one sister to the other.

“Couldn’t you just go to the store?” He laughed thinking it was a joke. He was consequently yelled at. The sisters continued circling him like a pack of wolves, demanding an answer.

Don’t do it! I wished I could yell.

“Well Despina is the oldest.” He finally spoke. Angry whines followed. “Alima does have a midterm today.” Still more grumbles of discontent. He looked at the youngest sister, her lips pouty and full. From his expression, it was obvious that he was attracted. “Desirae does have her pageant.” The other sisters growled. “And the proceeds go to a good cause.” He hastily added.

He paused for a moment. “Diserae.”

The other two glared at him as Diserae bounced over to the counter and claimed her prize, me.”

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RE: An Apple's Point of View - 5/3

Postby mummey_nc » Mon May 09, 2011 6:18 am

My beautiful meadow, where have you gone? Cool dew in the morning, soft breeze on my skin, all gone. As my days grow colder, foul odors rise from all directions as my skin softens and shrivels. This, my fate, is waste.

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RE: An Apple's Point of View - 5/3

Postby rach.laff » Mon May 09, 2011 5:06 pm

He’s at it again. I hear him tell his wife and daughter, and even the dog, over and over again, “Apples and oranges this week.” He is on a pretty strict budget when it comes to his weight allowance. Once he gets over 175 he starts his “apples and oranges” diet. At 55 years old, he is just as concerned with his physical appearance as his 22 year old daughter is concerned with her appearance. As soon as he gets home from work for his morning break, he plops a brown bag containing a roll for his lunch. It’s about the time his daughter wakes up in the morning. He usually gets annoyed with her as she bumps into him as she goes from refrigerator for creamer to the microwave to heat her coffee that I saw him make for her the night before. He sits at the little table with his glass of ice water, his sandwich, and his bag of chips. Prior to the decision to diet, he normally eats two or three full plates of whatever his wife cooks for dinner that night. Each time he finishes the second or third plate, he swears he knows he shouldn’t eat that much but, “It’s just so damn good, Patty.” His wife and daughter clear the table and do the dishes while he uses one of his alternating excuses to get out of the chores. “I’m going to clean the grill.” “I’m going to empty the trash.” “I have to use the bathroom.” Each excuse takes up about 20 minutes of post-dinner time, coincidentally that is about how long it takes to clean up from dinner. The man has got it down to a science. His wife and daughter predict which excuse he will use each night. Even I can tell he’s trying to get out of helping and being the lucky last apple of the bunch, I’ve been witnessing this for about 4 days now. I assume tomorrow he’ll go with the grill excuse because I heard his wife ask if he’d like steak tomorrow. And since, I’m the last one in the bunch, I assume the diet will end the meal after my life does.

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RE: An Apple's Point of View - 5/3

Postby L-Zanne » Tue May 10, 2011 6:30 pm

The grapefruit agrees: the people here are crazy. One day they yell at each other and ignore all things fruity and sweet; the next they’re kissing and dancing and eating cheese and crackers. Then, we all have to be wary; any of us could wind up on the plate next to the Brie.

They’ve been arguing a while this time. We’ve been packed in here for three days without a change, and I’m starting to go numb. But at least I’m on top, balanced at the edge of the bowl. The other apples are on the bottom, piled under grapefruit, cantaloupe, bananas, a pineapple, and me. The view from here isn't spacious, though.

The kitchen is so small. You hear about granite countertops and spacious islands with double sinks and double ovens. I study the Formica six inches from my nose. It’s brown and speckled, scratched. Disappointing.

I hear them coming. Their voices are low. Soft. She sways past and opens a bottle of red wine. Pours two glasses. Slides crackers onto a plate. The cheese is aged Cheddar. Apples go well with that.

I wish the counter were at least shiny and stone. My dying wish.

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RE: An Apple's Point of View - 5/3

Postby eljaycohen » Thu May 12, 2011 12:14 pm

Great. Here comes that kid again; the one with the headphones. Every single time he comes in here, he picks me up, twirls me around in his grubby little hand, wipes me on his filthy shirt, and puts me back into this damn bowl.

Just eat me, already, I want to scream!

I don’t understand the holdup. I’m red, juicy, a little bit tart, and nutritious!

When the guy who drove us to the store was unpacking us, he actually said, “An apple a day keeps the Doctor away!” That’s got to mean something, doesn’t it?!

Well, apparently, not to this kid.

This kid is all about touching. I saw him do it with the pear yesterday, too. What is wrong with him? It’s like he sees something shiny and he has to pick it up. But, then why put it down and snatch a bag of those crunchy, salty things out of the cupboard? One would think his mother… you know, the woman who took the time to choose us and place us lovingly in this bowl… would be more concerned for her child’s wellbeing.


He’ll learn soon enough that you can’t mess with Nature. And, not just our mother, either. All of us. We can be a pretty rowdy bunch if you rub us the wrong way, no pun intended. No, you know what? Yes… pun intended! I’m sick of being rubbed and put back. And, yea, everyone else in here is too. I think it’s about time we do something about it!

Well, looking around here, we seem to be lacking a bit in the arms and legs department. What about the stems? Anyone got any ideas what we can use them for? Anyone?


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