Saturday, 30 May, Year 12 d.Tr. | Author: Mircea Popescu

One sunny, breezy day of Spring a chattering, giggling gaggle of young girls happened upon an orderly orchard. The trees were mostly cherry, while the girls... the girls were mostly cheery ; but albeit and beyond their differences they made do with what was there present and available : the future luxury holes rolled and fed in the sweet, zesty grass ; the future luxury furniture shot squirts of Earthly delights up and down its plurious, slender trunks, and rained petals of unmitigated joy upon the pluriform (if quite orderly) beast of unbridled enthusiasm falling over itself below.

By mid-Summer the trees had ripened, their branches heavy at the crook with delicious, redolent cherries. Like the trees so the girls had ripened, their thighs heavy at the crook with their species' single, heat-glowing cherry. As chance would have it the same (mostly) girls and the same (mostly) trees then met again ; and during the proceedings of their meetings an' encounterings a single, solitary cherry left the branch that spawned it, the branch upon which it had first seen a dusk, and then a dawn, the branch upon which it had first (and ever thence) wallowed in the wind and danced in the breeze, the branch upon which it had first been kissed by a bee, and by a raindrop, and by a sunray, and by a moonshine, and by all the things that cherries in their ripening by degrees kiss. It left it far, distantly and ever at an increasing rate further and behind ; in a blink the branch was gone, and then there wasn't the branch anymore, but just merely a branch, seen from afar and needfull now of distinction and differentiation provided separately, apart and alongside, like toys and batteries. An entirely different thing altogether, from what it was, or rather, it had been.

The wayward cherry fell, with a delicate plop, red little dollop of delicious color among the other dollops of otherwise delicious but just as color, and they all noticed it, and gathered 'round.

"Hi!" the cherry offered, excitement strangling its small, cheery voice.
"What are you doing here ?" asked one of the girls, furrowing her brow like she'd seen the Ladies do, cherry red lips parting slightly like the blood driving it all demanded from them.
"I want to be one of you guys!" the cheery cherry squeaked, enthused.
"But... how ?" wondered outloud a dark angel of a different faith.
"Essentially!" came, unexpected, the right answer.

The girls were no racists, and readily accepted the supernumerary cherry among their cheery midsts, even if just essentially. Tolerance of impossible arrangements is a foremost female virtue ; and so they jointly (if approximately) did what they all ever do, while flesh be willing even if the spirit week ; but as late afternoon began giving way in to the early rays of dark, the Master an' proud owner of both herd and orchard came riding, and slaughtered the lot. Most cherries he just splayed open with his pointing, ruling stick, leaving but moans and an indistinct itch behind ; but the essential cherry he put in his mouth and, squirting its zests in the purpose-made fleshy basin, deftly separated the pulpy flesh from the stony seed, and spit that latter out.

The essential remains of what had been the cherry, essentially, fell unto the ground. Then it fell dark, and all fell silent. And thus as ever falls The End.

Category: Cuvinte Sfiinte
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  1. [...] whether be or not be, I still woke today, and stretched, and wrotei, and then readii and [...]

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