By Acquanetta M. Sproule
Quickly and cautiously, Angus ripped the peach’s flesh from its pit. He wanted to make sure that there was no activity inside of the peach before he bit into it.
He’d already gotten enough unpleasant surprises from this peculiar batch of peaches.
Good thing he did, because, sure enough, there was another tiny peach-pit shaped ship inside of this peach, too.
Like the others, it lifted off from his juice covered hands, blasting some sort of energy beam at his face as it surged away.
This time, though, Angus was ready.
He’d opened the peach while holding it down inside of his top-loading washing machine.
The puny, peach-pit ship splashed into the sudsy water, and Angus slammed down the lid, resuming the wash cycle.
He licked the sweet nectar from his fingers.
Just a few more and he’d have enough for a mighty tasty cobbler.
* * *
Acquanetta is a story-teller and uses the written word, music and visual art to show what is disregarded or taken for granted; because, sometimes, we miss what is crucial or lovely when it’s not flamboyant and does not draw attention to itself, so she deliberately searches for and celebrates the overlooked.