Seedy Grapes

Dear Seeded Grape,

I promised I would refrain from innuendo when composing this gauntlet to you, Seeded Grape, but it seems that I cannot. I have nothing against bunches of bite-sized fruit, in fact, I quite enjoy popping a few of your seedless cousins into my mouth from time to time however, and this is quite a large however, I must take offense when you sneak your way in and surprise my expectations with your hidden seed.

Normally, I have found that I can identify you via your look. You are a purple brown colour, almost bursting with juice and when I pluck you, often there is a sweet trickle of said juice down my hand. I would not be taken in by this seduction however, as I know that underneath those layers of pulpy sweetness, there is a grainy seed that will make my mouth pucker with bitterness. So I cast you out in favour of your smaller, greener, seedless varieties. Herein lies the problem. Sometimes, one of you sneaks in, dressed all in green, but still hiding a time bomb of seeds inside of you and I do pop you in my mouth and take a bite only to find a resistant intruder to my mastication.

No amount of spitting or tongue wiping or even, in extreme cases, vomiting, is enough to remove your foulness from my palate. I realise that you must produce seeds in order to reproduce, as do most flora and faunae. This is not my issue. My issue is the hypocrisy that you exhibit when you market yourself as seedless and yet, plainly, are with seed! I should not have to experience being seeded without my consent. No one should.

It is with the fire of revenge that I slip on this gauntlet and the thrill of satisfaction that I press you between my armoured thumb and forefinger and the joy of final relief that I press you into a pulpy mess on my finger tips. And it is with sad regret that I wipe your dribbly remains off my formerly pristine gauntlet. You have stained and soiled us for the last time, Seeded Grape. Feel my gauntleted wrath.

Adrik