Once when I lived in the heart of a dreamy Peach, the seed would bore me to death talking about itself.

It would tell me tales of the faraway lands where he was served in elaborate golden platters and was relished with decadence.

I would think- what a nincompoop, would turn around and go to sleep. 

Sometimes it would tell me about its travel to the fantastical lands of the pixies where streams flowed with delish juices and stars grew on trees.

I would think- what a codology and not long before I was peacefully dozing off.

Other times it would narrate it’s unnerving and dreadful instances when it was squeezed off its juices and was left to be trampled around by street cats and dogs.

And I would think- oh how weak-kneed, and go back to sleep.

One day when I could take the fashionable fables no more, I decided to leave.

So, I went to live in the heart of a more animated and pragmatic Pomegranate.

Soon enough, the seeds started talking.

One said- I want to grow up to become a tree.

The Second chimed in- You are too young and naive and you will probably be crushed to death before seeing the light of the day.

The Third retorted- But you are too ambitious and hot-headed and you will run out of energy before reaching anywhere. 

The Fourth piped in- You are too foolish to hold an opinion of your own. 

The Fifth who was a friend of Third squidged the Fourth so hard that it almost ran out of breath. 

Then the Sixth, who a friend of the Fourth, sat up, harried and hassled.

Followed by the seventh, eighth, ninth, tenth, eleventh and forty-seventh.

I frightfully got up, sneaked out, and went back to live in the heart of the Peach.