If You Were A Fruit You'd Be A Fineapple Novels & Stories

The fruity aroma instantly aroused her taste buds. "You're taking so long!" Rose grumbled softly. Taking over the bowl from the man in front of her. Rose's forehead furrowed when a different-looking piece of fruit caught her eye. "How come there's an apple?" She looked up at Theo's puzzled face. "You wanted mango apple, right?" "Yes. But I mean apple mangoes, mangoes that look like apples. Not mangoes and apples. Don't tell me you don't know, Theo!" The irritated tone made Theo scratch his temples uncomprehendingly. "I've never heard of such a fruit. You're also talking incoherently. You should have told me the mango you wanted, not a regular mango."

"Watch and learn, gentlemen." Stepping forward, I adopted my best sweet-but-sly saleswoman smile. "Fresh fruit! The best in town! Sweet as a summer kiss and juicy enough to make your taste buds dance!" I called, picking up an apple and taking a dramatic bite. "Mmm! See? Pure heaven!" Then, for fun, I added, "Ladies, if you're trying to get something from your man, just take one sexy bite of this fruit—you'll have him wrapped around your finger in no time."

"You look excited. I didn't want to ruin that." "Well, you would ruin it one way or another!" I shook my head before I looked up again. "What kind of fruit is that?" I asked. "The magical aloe." "Yeah, but is it some kind of an apple? A berry?" "Just magical aloe." "Whatever!" I mocked him. "So, who's gonna get that?" We needed to jump higher in order to reach the fruit, and such a talented creature could reach that, but not a normal human being.

“Would you like some?" Julian's brows furrowed watching her. She was having a hard time holding the knife with her hand, she had the apple on the bar but she wasn't really holding it. “Sandra?" “It's my favorite fruit." She said. “Like green grapes, there's just something about the green ones."

"You're feeling better, I see," "Not exactly," he said, switching to a very disturbing flirty innocent smile. "I woke up and suddenly had this strong craving for apples, but no matter how many apples I ate, I couldn't help but feel like it wasn't the apple I craved for. Then I remembered, there's only one apple scent that drives me crazy, the only female who is a living version of Eve's apple. So, here I am, to get a taste of that apple to confirm if it's the same."

With the taxes and having no proper source of income, Fyn couldn't even trade them with the herbs he found near his hut. "Screw it," Fyn muttered. "It could eat me for all I care." Without wasting any more time, Fyn bit into the apple and he couldn't help it, he groaned in delight. The taste of the apple exploded in his mouth. The sweetness coating his tongue like a second skin. As he expected, he started biting into the apple like a deranged man who hadn't eaten in days. Slobbering like a pig. Swallowing like it was the best meal he had in days. Honestly, it was. The best thing he had ever tasted.

He said. I stifled a laugh, but Cooper shot me a warning glare. I gave him a sheepish look so I clamped my mouth shut, but on the inside I was dying to laugh so hard. The lady bent down a bit, "Who's there?" "It's me. The apple." "Apples don't talk." "Well, they do now." "Well, what do you want, apple?" "Buy me." "Now, why would I buy a talking apple?" "Because talking apples are awesome. You can talk to it and play with it all day!"

Should I buy orange,Apple, pineapple or strawberry? I can't buy all of them so I will just take the apple and my one one and only favourite, orange. I throw three apple flavours into my cart, then move to the orange. There is only one left. The last man standing. A hand grabs it from the rank before I could do myself, And I snap my head to take a look at the owner. "Hey that's mine. "I didn't see your name on it." He scowls back. "Besides you were just staring at it." Okay he does have a point.

The men grabbed the boxes and tore it opened and pulled out the first riddle” I am a fruit. If you take away the first letter of my name, I become a crime. If you take away the first two letters of my name, I become an animal. If you take away the first and the last letters of my name, then I become a form of music. What am I?

Somewhere in the building a kid laughs and someone else tells him to be nice, which is a sentence I like for no rational reason. I think about cooking something that would make dishes and heat, a signal to my body that we’re doing evening on purpose. Instead I eat an apple and call it dinner. The apple is mealy. The meanness of that makes me laugh for real. You bought this for control and it’s soft. Okay. Fine. Not everything has to be a metaphor. Some things are just bad fruit.